A pincer movement once only possibly by the advancing Wehrmacht took 10 gentlemen of uncertain age to the All Stretton YHA Bunkhouse. Arriving from various directions the group gingerly converged on the Yew Tree public house. Conscious of some curious reviews of the pub, the group were none to sure of the reception, but were pleasantly rewarded by good food, washed down by Hobson’s Choice and Butty Bach ale.
So as answers to searching questions flew around the pub: why wasn’t Port on the shopping list, yet tea and coffee were; would First Names’ new boots cause him discomfort; and indeed could a cat be swung around the kitchen at the bunkhouse, the group trooped back in the dark to rest before the exertions to come.
Replete from breakfasting on Clever’s sourced Perry’s Porkies, Dibber led the saturday group through a lowland walk, hoping the rain would clear before climbing Caer Caradoc. Resting at basecamp, Councillor’s pasties hit the spot, as the damp began to be blown way by a front and the group deployed their resources for a summit attempt.
Guinness and RD were probably cursing their recent lack of mountaineering stamina as they climbed, but the reward was spectacular.
It was with no regret at all that the great unwashed, for indeed they were, found their way back to the Sarong-clad landlord’s hostelry to check that the quality of ale had not diminished overnight. To be sure of a good evening the group this time didn’t bother with something as tame as a magician, but booked an entire choir.
Sunday woke to a dusting of snow, with snowballing on the summit of the Long Mynd, a visit to the Pole Bank, perhaps the only bank unaffected by the downturn in the economy, and return to meet an under-the-weather RD, or is that KD, at the Acorn tea house in Church Stretton completing another epic adventure.
