17th January:

It all started with some confusion. I had been looking at the wrong programme and Tony had lost his. We got all the information out in a last minute panic, then only to find the Club web site was out of action. However all came through in the end. Sunday morning saw even further excitement due to a fresh fall of snow, however almost everyone got out to Tideswell on time.

At 9.30 we left Tideswell walking down Stancote Lane, then through fields to join the Limestone Way. This then took us into Millersdale and the path down the side of the River Wye. With the fresh snow on the trees and the sun shining, it all seemed very pretty and a slight haze gave a soft light that added to the effect. Plenty of mud and water underfoot kept a bit of reality for us. Further up the Wye, Martin Pierces dog jumped into the river after a thrown stick, and we saw its head in the rapids as he went round the corner and out of sight. However, the dog must have enjoyed itself, because it jumped in again! Pressing on over the stepping stones, both sets in very good order and well clear of the water, we walked into Wye Dale.

21st February:

On an overcast but surprisingly dry morning, and not one in keeping with the overnight forecast which promised rain for most of the day, the walkers gathered in Wetton village car park for a 9.30 am start.

After the usual exchange of banter, attention turned to Martin C's stocking feet. He had arrived at the club hut the previous night minus his walking boots. Fortunately Bob G came to the rescue and loaned him a spare pair.

Just after 9.30 am and no Martin Pierce in sight (he had a sore throat during the previous day’s EGM), the party set off. A steady walk past Lett’s pub (the Royal Oak) led quickly to some open fields in a NE direction to Alstonefield. “Why were we heading north and not south?” some muttered. “Was a pub not included?” asked Bob G. “Maybe” the leader reluctantly replied. So Bob suggested the bar in the Ilam Youth Hostel.

14th - 15th May:

Not sure which God Geoff is invoking, but another couple of days of astonishing weather for a DPC Meet; this time in Wales (Croesor) to be exact. Indeed in all my 38 years I have never experienced such glorious weather in Wales.

The Hut is rather beautifully situated overlooking the Cwm Croesor with nothing but deep countryside before the Snowden range on the near horizon to the north. Almost next door to the Hut is the gorgeous house and gardens of Plas Brondanw.

I confess that gardening is not my forte but even I recognise that to carve this type of garden out of a wild Welsh hillside is no mean feat. look for yourself; www.plasbrondanw.com/gardens/

The walking party that fine Saturday included our President, Mike, Martin, Chris G and LOM. With due deliberation, and at no unseemly pace, we ascended Moelwyn Bach stopping at frequent intervals to enjoy the splendid view down onto the coast and beyond. On reaching the summit there was a large party of Welsh people; I found out they were Welsh when Martin asked them where they were from. To our Saxon ears they had sounded distinctly foreign. That embarrassment over we lay down beside a pool on the peak and thought of the meaning of life.

16th - 19th June:

I arrived at the hut on Friday evening, having picked up Goulden and Hood at Perth station. We unloaded some food for the weekend, and then headed for the local bar which overlooked the Ballachulish bridge, where we found four of the less youthful members tucking into a bar meal. Pierce, Grayson and Goodier arrived a little later having nipped up a local hill to stretch their legs after a long train journey – they never made it to the top as the ‘hill’ turned out to be more than expected. We returned to the hut for some late supper and were joined by the Peppit brothers who had driven up after work.

Friday dawned overcast but dry – a relief after a week of rain. Chatburn, Crowther, Harris and Johnson executed their plan of leaving the hut for the 0830hrs Corran ferry. They headed across the Ardnamurchan Peninsular to catch another ferry to Tobermory, on the island of Mull. They were on the lookout for Golden and Sea Eagles whilst travelling around the island.

17th July:

The weather forecast a good day and for once delivered a perfect day for a walk on the Kinder area.

The classic Jagger’s Clough was used for the accent to the Kinder Downfall for a very brief butty stop.

It was clear that the party were advanced walkers well suited in ability, if not age, at 81 John Eastwood showed all the characteristics of an extremely fit 40 years old. Phil Crowson was back in training and looking ‘buff’* and Lionel was, well Lionel, I man who has the ability to walk all day long and look better than when he set off 8 hours earlier! Maybe it’s because he’s the President and has special powers, who knows, but it’s a great thing to see.

After some considered thought, a decision was made to execute Phil’s exuberant plan to follow a ‘good line’ to the Snake Inn via the Mushroom on Fairbrook Naze. Given past experience’s, this was considered very carefully...then we went for it.

16th – 18th September:

Location – The Rucksack Hut at Beudy Mawr, Llanberis

The Hut was as ever found to be comfortable, well equipped and convenient for Snowdon.  With excellent weather, a good turnout and excellent food provided by the joint leaders a memorable meet was guaranteed. Many happy memories of previous meets at this hut, including impromptu, were recounted. Our southern members, Clowes, Goulden and Hood missed much of the Friday evening merriment having circumnavigated much of Wales to get there.

Given the excellent weather conditions Tryfan and Snowden were inevitable draws, the former scaled/scrambled by Clowes, Hood and Goulden and the latter by Johnson with remarkable ease despite his overtures of “this could be the last time”, Hughes and Stout. The final trio were embarrassed by Rick Shawcross jogging, having hardly broken sweat as they approached the summit after which he went on to complete the remainder of the Snowdon Round to be followed by his feat referred to below.

16th – 18th September:

It wasn't helped that we set off for the drive north from Bristol to Bawdy Mawr for the Presidents Meet very late in the day. The typically execrable service of GWR from London saw to that. However our determination to avoid the stationary queues on the motorways and drive up through central Wales in the dark much assisted. When we arrived, late and suitably knackered at Croesor (site of a previous Meet) we had not only a sense of déjà vu and a sense we had been here before, but also a sense of panic. We had travelled to the wrong Meet. Scrabbling around to first find and then read the Meet Notice we convinced ourselves we had the wrong date too. Old Men and their short term memories eh. No wonder my son refers to me as an oxygen thief.

T’was about 11 pm we rolled up at the Hut. There we were met by the ruddy faces of The President, Mike J, Martin, Syd, the Peppit Boys, Skelly, Brian, Richard……… I say ruddy because the table was covered in empty bottles. Full ones rapidly appeared and in the best Club traditions, we drank too much on the first night. It may be that ( the booze) was the reason Mike J solemnly announced this would be the last time he would be ascending Snowdon. Toasts followed. 

16th October:

No Report

18th - 20th November:

Glaramara - Lake District

By Crowson: Ok, up a snowy Great End via Cust's Gully, escaped from waterfall under chock stone to exit on head wall. (Crowson Grayson). 

By Bob Grayson: On Saturday Phil and Bob tried to climb up a snow gully on Great Gable.  The snow was like tiny polystyrene balls - we didn’t leave foot prints - it was so powdery that it was like wallowing in fluff.  We failed to make it up the gulley - despite being well equipped with Colonel Haythornthwaite’s ceremonial ice pick - a chock stone blocked our way but we did have a fantastic snow slide on our way back down.  Having walked around the side to the top the snow blew quite hard and Crowson took the opportunity to take off his socks and boots and to announce that a) he was having his heart stopped on the Monday and b) he had severe chest pains.  Fortunately we made it down the valley to a lovely pub in Stonethwaite (the Langstrath Country Inn) which I would recommend.  Sadly too small for the club to hold the AGM there - but well worth a pint or two on the way down.

18th December:

Scheduled activity:- to walk from the Club Hut to the Shoulder of Mutton in Bradwell, have a drink or two, and walk back.

The morning was fine with a cool breeze - ideal for walking - and after the traditional coffee and mince pies we got away from the Hut by 10am. We soon split up, some going up the Cliff to Eyam and others following the leader up the lane. We were reunited at the top.

Progressing past the Miners' Arms and then the Youth Hostel on an ever steepening incline, we joined the tarmaced road going west and later made our way along a good overgrown track to Nether Bretton. Here, the footpath to Abney was hidden in the garden of a residence but, fortunately, the resident was in his garden and helpful, when asked. We were soon making the very steep descent into the clough and crossed the brook on a footbridge to go past Cockey Farm into Abney.

We took to Duper Lane - more tarmac- the troops were getting a bit restive over tarmac. They didn't appreciate its good qualities at all. Arrived at the head of Overdale, Pierce, by this time, had lunch on his mind and when we came to a bench at the point where the footpath from Abney Grange came in it was the obvious place to stop. We ate our lunch but didn't tarry there and were soon making the second steep descent of the day- and very muddy this one- into Bradda. There's an old saying:- Tidza tatters, Bradda rappers and Castleton swilltubs. What it means, I am not sure, but I have always taken it to refer to the respective inhabitants.