6am - gunmetal greay skies, Wednesday are at home to Wolves, Liverpool are at Chelsea and sara need a trip out. I know I'll go clean a route at Yarncliffe!
Train, breakfast at the caff and a short walk up the amazingly dry gorge running away from the hoards of gaitered up walkers to the quarry.
No one is here - great no abseilers to mock me and I'm free to look ludicrous, and I do, with wire brush, scraper, saw & chisel all dripping off me.
Zapples clean, so is Fall pipe, wow - that needs checking soon,. Cardinals slab's gopping and I would need a sandblaster for that. Inverted Jigsaw's (E1 5b) full of cack - never done that - looks goodif cleaned. Just then a chap brings his son into the quarry and doesn't even acknowledge me - how very rude!
Ab in and chop the 1st third off - which is good fun - until its then pisses it down for 15 minutes and I'm soaked through - still grimly ripping sods of grass from the crack and my feet can't get any purchase.
Albeit happy in the fact that Septembers DWS festival in the Costa Blanca is booked finally this morning and as I claw at earth and grass & cling on to the thoughts of azure skies and and the aqua marine Briny - plopping into the Med off perfect blanca limestone. Keep cleaning young jedi - soon - you never know I might even get to use a rockfax guidebook in anger (sorry Mickey - its ace - ground breaking etc etc...)
The ants are in my hair now, down my neck and probably my trousers. I find a great crimp which gets me to a tree. Tie in and relax, and drop the nut key - poo.
The ants are now into my eyes now and waters pouring off my noggin, Sara's scrattering and gyrating - switch to belay plate and lets get out of here.
Helens at Stanage in the rain - and not a happy gal. Grouse Inn? You knows it...