Girls beat men in wacky walk
By Tom Waghorn
It was the jolliest walk, wackiest walk ever down the backbone of
England.
A marathon in which a record 13 bogtrotters tramped the gruelling 70
miles from Colne, Lancashire, to Rowsley, Derbyshire. A marathon in
which four girls finished but four men retired. A marathon n which
two of the trampers carried umbrellas (but not brief cases) with
their rucksacks and the party sat down to a hot pot on the way.
Seventeen members and prospective members of the Manchester Karabiner
Mountaineering Club began the jaunt at 6.40am last Saturday,
including Mrs Millie Black, Mrs Shelagh Manning, Mrs Liz Schoffield
and Sylvia Pringle, a slip of a girl on her first long walk. One of
the modern hazards of moorland walking was encountered on the first
day _ the road works for the new trans-pennine motorway. "Bob Heynes
fell into a mud pan near the workings and hours later still showed
the caked results, despite frequent rolling in the heather like a wet
terrier," laughed the meet leader and organiser Mr Bowden Black, of
Marlborough Road Stretford. "The moors were in an appalling
condition, soggy and sloppy, with hundreds of yards at a time up to
boot top level, with an occasional squelch up to the shins."
Tempting
After 10 hours Wessenden House was reached. Hot-pot time. All the
girls arrived but not Bill Aspden. He had missed his way and went
home instead. Over the moors to Crowden to bowls of soup, tea and
coffee at their supporting van. The sight of this was enough to tempt
Alan Jones and Roger Reid, who finished the rest of the journey in
it. The girls passed on.
The party looked hard at the stream they now had to cross. "I had
inspected the course a week earlier and assured them it was only a
trickle," said Mr Black. Now it was not much less than the Mersey at
Sale. "Dave Summerfield was the first across and how much the rest of
the party appreciated his umbrella! This had been the subject of much
caustic comment up to now, but here it came into its own. Using the
handle as a gaff most of the party managed to get across dry. "But
Bob and Sylvia tried another crossing and Sylvia went right in up to
her waist. Fortunately Bob held on to her and she clambered out none
the worse except for a soaking."
Trundling
Darkness came with the Derwent moors. The girls pressed on. "As no
path materialised, heather, bog and bracken had to be negotiated",
Continued Mr Black. "However, a mile or two lower the path turned up
and this led us down to the slippery stones at the head of the
Derwent reservoirs. In the full moon, they looked very beautiful, but
we could not really appreciate them as we were now becoming rather
tired. "Millie, trundling alone down the road, rounded a corner and
found one man fast asleep in the middle of it and another curled up
on the grass verge. She prodded them awake and they carried on to
Bamford", Here they had a rest and Brian Hussey retired. My blisters
were so big that I was Having trouble balancing on them", He joked.
The girls pressed on. Along Stanage Edge in the welcome daylight, a
thin skimming of ice on the pools reminding them of the cold darkness.
Waiting
Breakfast in the sun near the Longshaw estate with the men beginning
to feel the strain. The hum of parfait stoves sent one to sleep:
another summoned enough energy to fry a pan of bacon and eggs. . Then
fell asleep with the meal half eaten on his knee. The girls pressed
on . . . Came the best part of the walk along the gritstone edges to
Baslow village and stately Chatsworth. The sun was well up and warm
the breeze light and cool and the outcome not in much doubt. The van
was waiting with sweet tea at Rowsley and the walkers limped in to
finish in times between 28½ and 31 hours. "It was quite a jolly
occasion." Said Derek Seddon, a veteran of countless marathons. "But
for the first time a big party was an advantage. Everybody was pretty
much of the same walking standard and when conversation waned in one
group you just moved into another."
Extract from Manchester Evening News Weekend Magazine
May 18th 1968
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