Very good conditions, bit damp on the bogs perhaps. From my vantage point on the gates at Hag Dyke i was able to witness some truly remarkable route choice down the crag above the hostel, i salute each and every one of you. The situation seemed to arise out the ancient fell running tradition of 'follow the person in front'. An initial miscalculation by someone seemed to lead to an established and visible alternative line coming into existence, leading unsuspecting competitors over possible the worst and most treacherous sections of the crag. The leaders all took the usual route, but most of the rest of the field risked life and limb over the biggest drops onto the loosest sections. I should have fashioned an improvised swearing jar out of my thermos, i could have raised possibly hundreds for Wharfedale MR. The secret Wharfedale Harriers alternative line, known only to myself and Jean P, remained unused and incognito.

Full marks go to Darren Fishwick for taking such a tumble in the bogs, that he passed me looking like the Golden Shred Gollywog. I wanted to shout some encouragement, but was unable to stop laughing.