St Beefcake united

This extra hour knocked off has knocked me for six. I feel exhausted, but then I suppose I did get up at what my head thinks is 0445.

I last wrote at the end of the Mega week, and I am saddened but not suprised to report that that was indeed the end of any greatness. The void of obscurity beckons!

The night after I was last wittering, I got called out at 0300. I was then working right through till 1300, when I took my leave and headed out for some fresh air. I was rubbish. Felt really strange and nothing worth writing about happened. The point in telling you this is that whilst I am fortunate enough to sometimes get to do stuff midweek, I do pay for it occasionally with out of hours things overnight.

She and I went to the Lakes for the weekend (19/20). We drove up friday morning, arriving beneath clear blue spring skies, the summits jagged across the horizon and the ODG glinting in the distance (we were in Langdale). Set up camp, and legged it over the hardknott pass to the coast. To say St.Bees was further than expected would be something of an understatement. Granted, we had taken the direct but twisty route, but still - an hour and twenty minutes! Anyway, it was a nice day for a drive, and very stunning situation. Turns out St Bees isnt actually at St Bees, but north at Sandwith. Anyway, the PDF on lakesbloc is spot on, and with exellent, clear directions we arrive and pay for parking at the farm. A short trot up the track to the light house, and I can't emphasise enough quite how beautiful the setting is - 270 degrees of sea, clear blue glittery sea. Wow. Then a death track. Well, actually we had a refusal on death track one which lead to trekking off round the head towards whitehaven to take an easier but still deathy track down. Then once you get down its epic getting around, slippery and involving tottering across a rocky platform over death chasms. And, going down on that path isnt even where the boulders are! Eventually we get back to the original path, which is right by where we need to be, and the first impression is on how incredible the rocks look, and of how amazing the shapes the water has carved are. But there isn't much. Plus, its 1630, and we have to leave at 1730. I do about 45 minutes worth before we trek back up the cliff to the car. A dash back at lightspeed ensues and we arrive at the campsite, mildly car sick and having missed our table. We have no signal to phone through, but after a moments deliberation get changed and decide to try it anyway. We arrive and there's space, and they fit us in. Both finally relax and have a lovely evening.

The saturday isn't as stellar a day as Friday, but its still good. Bowfell is in cloud, but the crinkles occasionally come into view, so up we get and off we go. I think we left at about 1030, and we were atop bowfell by lunchtime. Then back along the crinkles and down back to the pub for about 1600. That first pint was brilliant. We had another, felt quite pissed, then went back to the campsite to get showered and wait for them to start serving food. Went back to the pub, ate, drank a bit more but by 1930 we were bushwacked and back to the campsite we went. Now dont think of us struggling into a tiny tent, oh no - we had rented a wooden camping pod. Which is basically a wooden tent. The plan was to watch a film on the iPad, but by 2030 we were both fast asleep. Sunday it rained, so we left early and went to see my sister's new baby.

So, i got back to work on the Tuesday to find out that one of our suppliers had been hacked and that I needed to spend the week sorting all that out. This was last week, and that consumed most, if not all of my time. I did make it to the pass on tuesday afternoon though, and set about working Mr Fantastalog again. Ultimately, I didn't get anywhere, but I feel like I learnt a bit about what will be required. Popped in at the cave on the way home and worked out a method of starting halfway, then back to Chester where I was stopping that night.

Finally, to finish off this rambling tirade - at the weekend I met Neddy, Nick Brown and Micheala (caminati, not the bleached climbing works stalwart) out at Burbage. Old Micheala wanted to get on Voyager, I wanted to do the Sphinx, Nick was up for anything, and Neddy wanted to sit and think about football. Micheala had just done Full Power. We both did the Terrace again. That shot hole is loads bigger than when I first did it. Then I did the sphinx. Nick and I fumbled on Giza and Micheala furtled at Voyager. Michaela got me to push him through the start, and the thought which struck me was how ferkin hard his back was! it was like benching a granite man! he is the most ripped man in the universe! You could cut yourself on his abs! His torso is like a badly peeled potato. Thats what you get if you climb 8c I suppose. Anyway, it starts raining and we end up back in Fritzl's champ chamber hanging off strips of wood.