By Mick Enwright

Hi Folks

Before any of the scurrilous rumours or downright untruths assail your
collective delicate ears, what follows is the plain unvarnished truth……Pay
no heed to any other reports of the incident!!!!

Martin S and I set off at some unearthly hour on Thursday 24th heading for
the Great Beyond … well Hathersage for starters, where we planned to meet up
with Norman at Outside…I have to admit that leaving early does have it’s
merits, for we arrived after a trouble free…speed observed (Hmmm) journey,
arriving at 09.55 outside Outside, and after the usual round of gear fondling,
tea drinking, and generally lusting after kit we didn’t really want, couldn’t
really afford, etc. (recognise yourselves, anyone)??? set off for “popular end” of
Stanage, and spent a nice productive day soloing V Diffs, climbing, leading,
seconding and generally enjoying the scenery, before setting off for Castleton
YHA.

There seemed to be a mite of confusion on the part of the reception staff on
our arrival, as to who was bunking with whom and where, which was eventually
sorted out. So then it was off to the “self catering kitchen” to prepare our
respective tucker, which in all cases was accompanied by various beverages,
having seen off some small Stellas, a couple of very nice bottles of red, and
taking up later, Tony’s offer to help lower the contents of his wine box, ’twas
all in all, a merry evening.

Now being of a less robust constitution that in earlier days, I decided to
leave the others to their wines, jokes and general frivolity and went off to
bed, to some of the most wonderful sleep I’d had in a while, until summoned in
the early hours by Martin practising his own particular “Coughing for Britain”
routine, which after a while he’d perfected, and we all finally settled until
some unearthly hour, when aroused again by Tony, bearing gifts of hot
tea (Sorry, that should be roused, but then, who knows what other effects tea
can have).

After a hearty breakfast, and the most minimal faffing (largely by me)
leaving just on 9.a.m. we set off for The Roaches, parked up, met Caroline G,
geared up and set off for Upper Tier, where we off-loaded the rucksacks, and
strolled in a leisurely fashion along the face, checking out potential routes,
and waiting for the rock to dry. Norman and I set off to do Maud’s Garden for
starters, which although still wet and somewhat green was a “pussycat” of a
climb, which we enjoyed immensely. The others, going off to do their
thing. Ask Martin S sometime about Jeffcoat’s Chimney; he does have a
descriptive turn of phrase.

Other climbs came and went and then I mentioned to Norman that there were 3
or so climbs just across the wall left of “Right Route” which seemed to be worth
a look, which for me was all they were, I just lost any bottle, retreating in
ignominious fashion, and apologising to Norman who happily was quite relaxed
about the whole sorry business…

Then it was time for lunch. Which came and went, With Mike B and Caroline setting up to do “Pedestal
Route”, Tony R and Martin setting up to do “Right Route” and Norman and myself
looking lovingly at a climb which I could not put a label to, just to the right
of “Right Route” which had my name on it. I went up had a look at it, perching
on a fine thin ledge without too much difficulty, comfortable and satisfied that
it was do-able, came down re-checked the gear, tied in and set off once again,
don’t know at this stage why it didn’t seem quite the same, and tried to alter
my stance, but suddenly I was plummeting all of 3 feet to the ground, where
rather unfortunately somebody had left this flat rock upon which the front half
of my right foot landed (ouch)!

Apparently on landing one footed I was heard to yelp rather loudly, and
mutter in unseemly fashion. “Oh dear” I said “I think I have hurt my foot” (or something similar), all
the time fighting off the sudden feeling of faintness and nausea. Willing hands
helped me down, somebody finding a bivi-bag to lay me on, and folks on hand to
generally render such help as might be needed. Including a guy from the local
mountain rescue team offering to turn out his group if needed be. Could I ever
live that down?

Opinion was however that in fact it might have just been a bad sprain, with
Kearton applying bandages and Ibuprofen, and generally making me comfy.
Apparently there are ‘photos …

Everybody was able to finish his or her climbs (Tony R leading an absolutely
stonking good “Right Route” which I could watch from my resting place)

Some years ago I was more than a little derisory of walking poles, but had, as I
got that little bit older, come to appreciate their merits and none more so than
this day! Martin set out the plan of action to get me off the hill, fashioning
for starters a carry seat from my walking poles and some tat. Sending Kearton
off to recce the best way down, avoiding those wonderful stairs!!!…. They then
took all of the gear back to the cars, while Caroline stayed to mop my fevered
brow and keep me amused ’til the lads returned.

The next bit was something of a tour de force, with various methods of carrying
and lifting a body across some pretty rough ground (again, photos exist) to get
me back to the road.

Norman then ferried me off to Buxton minor injuries dept, where after checking
and X-raying, they found I had indeed broken a bone, provided me with a soft
cast and picks to take to the fracture clinic.

I know why it is that I joined the IMC. What a swell group of guys and gals you
all are! Special thanks to Martin, Tony R, Norman, Mike B, Caroline, Adrian and
Kearton for all of their combined efforts to get me safely off the hill. It
was no picnic!

Prognosis. Likely to be in plaster 4 to 6 weeks, will I dance again? I doubt
it – couldn’t dance before. Will I climb? You bet I damn well will !!!! And
I can’t complain, having climbed for about 12 years without mishap. So take
care out there folks, and thanks once again to all those mentioned above.