Stag Two

No climbing this weekend, but things have gone on so I have something
to witter on about. Its Thursday night, its late and we are getting
ready for bed. Best man James is driving up from Hastings on the south
coast. ETA 2330. So, I keep my phone on and curl up on the sofa with a
book, its 2200 - I fall asleep almost instantly and wake up at
midnight. He's still not here, but is about to be. I let him in, we
have a whiggy and I get to go to proper bed.

All too soon its time to get up again. He sets up working from the
kitchen whilst I work from the attic bedroom. There are two
interesting things about James' work (runs own product company), he
exists almost completely on Skype and they have improved this no end -
in short, its fully amazing where it used to be a bit crap before. The
most notable thing is that the call quality is outstanding. And the
other interesting thing he gave me was spotify. This is all the music
in the world (if you have fairly mainstream tastes) at your
fingertips, and for free. You cant download it, but you can create
playlists and just listen all day long online. Isnt so good if you are
into electronic music (from what I have seen so far), but is good to
listen to albums and other stuff.

Anyway, we set off for the dales, bikes strapped to the back of the
car and luggage stowed. Its Friday night, and Bradford is well busy
(predicatably). It takes two and half hours to get to Malham, but all
in good spirits and I am delighted when we arrive, as Kirkby Malham
village hall is perfect for our weekend. Indoor camping with cooking
facilities - and opposite the pub. With most people now here, we pop
over the road for a couple, before coming back for home cooked tea.
The kitchen is pretty awesome - proper full catering job, but
inexplicably with a shit electric oven. Suspect its used for buffet
preparation and tea making rather than Sausage and bean cassoulet.
Sausages, real ale and all boys together in one room - its going to be
a pungent aroma by the end of the night. Back to the pub, few more
beers, few more turn up, everyone is tired and we retire about 1am.

Thermarests are great things - really they are, but they are designed
for sleeping on grass, and its suprising just how soft grass must be,
because a hard wooden floor feels uncomfortable even through the
thermarest. Anyway, a bit achey people start blundering around early
in the morning (830) which is another minor issue with the village
hall, when one is up so are you all. My brother in law, Andy, turns up
at 930, and at which point I am informed that the postie has been.
Expecting this to be some stag shenanighans, I depart for the door
with trepidation. There on the mat is a mocked up post card with the
message on the back that Jim (the best man) has fixed it for me to be
a famous Ben for the weekend. The Famous Ben is Ben Hur! I get
outfitted in a centurion outfit and we head out for breakfast. Its
going to be hot, as PVC does not breathe well. Breakfasted and
slightly bilious we begin what feels like an almost vertical climb up
past Malham cove itself before looping back east round the top of the
tarn. This takes us to Street gate, and then the amazing Mastiles lane
which is a roman road which leads right to the tennant arms at
Kilnsey. The downhill section is fast and entertaining and we arrive
at the pub breathless and grinning.

Its funny being admist so much world class limestone and not pulling
on. Kilnsey is busy and as far as I can tell from the road -
completely dry. We pass the crag and continue on the road until
Arncliffe, when we turn left and climb steeply up back towards Malham
tarn. The sun is now out and it feels pretty oppressively still. With
a lot of stops and some fairly serious whinging from the less fit
members of the party we make it back to street gate, from where its a
short but sharp road downhill section back to the village. All but
three zip off to get to the pub, whilst Chris, lee and I turn back and
ride the first two km of Mastiles again, this time branching
rightwards to Weets top, before enjoying the best downhill of the
weekend. Swooping along flat out in a rut chasing sheep down off the
moor. There are swooping jumps and berms and again, the grin factor is
multiplied.

The dales are beautiful. Airton and Kirkby Malham are just so
wonderful little places to look at. I have visions of buying a house
there and becoming a bumpkin. Wish the honey monster was here to see
it, she would love it. But then again, everywhere looks great in the
sunshine and it would be pretty isolated. Perhaps we are too young for
such remoteness quite so soon. The last road section back to meet the
others in the pub feels hard work but worth it to sit on the green
outside the pub, the sun is out, theres a little stream at the bottom
of the green and it just all feels good! With a feeling of summer, and
euphoric post exertion well being in my bones (and a sore arse), we
head back to kirkby malham to change and go out for tea.

You can imagine the rest of the evening. Drinking beer, talking shit
and farting basically. In the morning the parish hall smells like a
sewage work. We have another slap up feed and a walk up to gordale to
watch someone dogging Supercool and tourists nearly maim themselves
trying to climb out on the footpath. Although tired I have had a
lovely time. I feel wobbly (hungover), but euphoric. I drive back to
Sheff, James collects his car and continues on to Battle. Honey and I
go out for tea. I allow myself more beer and we catch up. The day
finishes with Top Gear and the world feels a good place to be.

So then, this week - rock climbing. Weather is supposed to be shit
(for climbing), hot, humid etc. It might dump its load by thurs from
what I read/hear/see. I would like to get back to do Free Monster, and
that might be a good choice, but then foley was on about thormens on
weds. Will have to see if I can flex the time.