From the desk of the transport secretary

The final trip of 2022 crept up on us unawares, with Dartmoor seemingly barely in the rear view mirror before once again it was time for me to brave the friday rush hour to go and collect my trusty 9 seater (for the third time this term!) and putter on over to Churchill for a 1800 departure, destination: Helvellyn. An uneventful journey was punctuated only by the standard stop at Wetherby services. The tunes on the way up were once again impeccable with my Finnish copilot managing the playlist. That was until the final 5 minutes when, as Ullswater rolled by and we turned right up the rough track to the bunkhouse, I assumed control and the unmistakably frenetic sounds of the now traditional* Spongebob Squarewave track woke the more soporific passengers of the car.

The bunkhouse was clean, spacious, and warm, and with the obligatory intro talk conducted by safety officers Grace and Thom done, everyone drifted quickly off upstairs. Save, that was, for the committee subset who - perhaps worrying - seem to be getting in the habit of staying up far too late.

Saturday dawned misty and drizzly, but undaunted everyone eventually set out into the lakeland landscape - even the unnamed individual who was discovered still in sleeping bag past 9am! Some groups headed high to brave the forecast gusty winds up on the tops, while others - mine included - opted to stay low in the valleys.

All groups returned without incident, and the kitchen soon became a hive of activity as Team Xmas Dinner begun preparations. After a marathon and highly coordinated (and incredibly low stress?) few hours, no less than three gigantic turkeys (and suitably vegetarian alternative) emerged, along with plentry of accoutrements - sprouts, roasties, and a huge jug of gravy. To a well deserved round of applause, we all tucked in.

The evening was documented throughly by the dual in-house photographers and passed in a very pleasant haze of fire and wine induced warmth, save for a very heated discussion around the rules of Cheat**, and the bunkhouse fell silent by 0030.

Sunday proved slightly better weather-wise, and as such I (and some other committee members) made the most of it by staying inside and dozing on the sofa, the term's now 4 trips and lost sleep finally catching up with us. Leftovers were carved and a Going Postal audiobook was idly listened to, and I took the opportunity to continue work on the club's new website. Eventually we managed to drag ourselves out for a late lunch at the local tearoom, before all too soon it was time to return to the Bunkhouse, clean up, and squeeze in a group photo before cars gradually filled and left back for the flatlands of Cambridgeshire. A festive and relaxed end to a very successful first term of hillwalking.

* I mean, I'm the one making it traditional...

** I'm still salty about this Oliver