Tramp tramp tramp

Today 18 May 2024 was the Saturday picked for The Blackstairs Challenge, an up hill and down dale yomp that has been an annual fixture at Castle Blob since our long-flown daughters were tots. They missed a few pandemic years, despite hill-walking being the least covidy social activity known to epidemiologists. Just like last year, I set out my stall, about ⅓ of the way along the 33 km route.

I set up Bobby Buoy Boy to make sure that nobody took too many flapjacks.

There are stewards at The Off between 07:30 and 08:30 and the challengeers have to be through the checkpoint at the bottom of our valley by 13:00. We usually expect people therefore between ~09:30 and ~12:30 . . . and it was so: the first pair trotted past the gate at 09:23 in full metal lycra. Such people have no time for water and it wasn't until an hour later that the first dehydratees pulled into the yard to fill water-bottles . . . and sample the flapjacks: of which there were ~3 kg.  I think Wayfarers limit participants to 300, so not everyone gets a flapjack. 

It started off overcast with the peaks lost in cloud and reports were that the ground was right soggy above us. That's what happens when the gods deliver 9 months of continual rain. There are reports that spuds may be rationed later this year because the weather has been so much agin potatoes. 

One of the ironies was that, having promised water to ~300 strangers, the water pressure went all feeble on us in the last week or so. Then providentially Roy the Plumb rocked up Thursday lunch time, presumably to settle accounts, exactly a month after installing a new submersible pump and hydro-accessories. I almost hugged him and he was quite happy to put in an hour's pro bono to keep a customer happy. Turned out the water filter was all gunked up with bedding-in sediment. All it needed was a nail-brush and a few buckets of cool clear water. Now that I know what the problem is, I can rinse and repeat if symptoms recur.

By 11:30 the sun peeked between the clouds and the day shaped up for being a lot brighter. Not enough to dry out the ground for the walkers, but enough to put a spring in their step. The self-styled Roll Up came down the lane at 12:30 and that was it for another year.  Income: €5.60 [half the take for last year], one water-bottle with a 15c deposit, a half-used tube of lip balm. Zero tinkle-tissue, so that's a Win.

STOP PRESS: . . . and [14:00] a bottle of whiskey from Wayfarers. This is getting to be a tradition.

Update 15:30: Zero tinkle-tissue, so that's a Win one tinkle tissue, behind a dwarf wall in my yard. FFS: is there anything else I can do for these people? wash out their garbage bin? change their infant's nappies? Next year there will be signage to our compost heap, then I won't need to clean up after "adults".