R*n 326: Ingleton

It was a small but select group of hardy hashers who gathered in the car park of the Mason's Arms. Cold wet weather had not deterred them, and they were ready and eager to brave the foothills of Ingleborough.

Our hare gave a (mercifully) brief introductory lecture, and then the pack set off, roaming across the main road to find trail. Once found, we set off through the darkened village, up and down cul-de-sacs, around housing estates and across soggy school playing fields. We soon left the village behind, and crossed a caravan site to gain access to the countryside. Sliding around on a dark muddy track Baldbrick managed to fall in a spectacular Keystone-cops fashion, narrowly avoiding injury to his horn! We all expressed our sympathy in the traditional manner by pointing, laughing and jeering.

After a short time on narrow rural roads we broke onto the fell. Hearts sank when Cyberseptic remarked, "This is the main path up Ingleborough, isn't it?" Up and up we went into the darkness, realising after a while that we hadn't seen any flour for a while. Luckily, Morticia was more observant than most of us, and saved the day by noticing the trail leading back towards the village. Pausing only to admire the twinkling lights of Ingleton, we plunged downhill again, and it wasn't long before we were all safely back in the pub car park, looking forward to our beer and food.

Down downs were given to Baldbrick for crashing and me for a variety of entirely spurious reasons made up by Cyber! It was then time to sample the good choice of beer and fantastic food offered by the Mason's Arms. On On.