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Mastrangelo, Kanaley

Joe Carr, Stan Carr, ?

Clyde Parade - Glasgow St. near Caroline

Originally my plan was to head for a wild-camp around Beckhead Tarn between Great Gable and Kirk Fell, but the combination of a late start and oncoming rain has persuaded me to pitch here not far short of the summit of Green Gable. As soon as I was pitched the rain and wind turned up to storm levels and for a short time I felt pretty smug, but it didn't last and was soon replaced by worries about being blown away.. Well I set two new 2012 records with this camp, first its the highest at 2,400' and secondly its my longest enforced in-tent fester! Night became day, then morning morphed to noon and afternoon to night again and still I was sitting it out. Long since having given up on getting my walk round the Pillar Red Pike option there seemed nothing else to do and time if it doesn't fly in these situations, it certainly goes, and in this case it went from tea-time on Wednesday till noon on Friday! But why is it that when it would be really useful to have a copy of War and Peace with you, its never there? Still, I amused myself by a bit of schoolboy sing-song verisfying:

 

GREEN WITH ENVY

 

First verse:

Many a trail I’ve tramped and trodden

Many a camp’s been damp and sodden

Here’s another for the table

Endless night upon Green Gable

 

Chorus:

Oh the wind blew in from Mickledore

The rain lashed down

With a monsoon roar

The night was black

As a harlot’s tooooomb

And the storms

Ripped up

From Gillercombe

 

Second Verse:

The morning came

As mornings do

I stirred myself

And stirred a brew

The weather Gods

Were malcontent, said

Listen boy

Keep in yer tent:

 

Chorus

Oh the wind blew in from Mickledore

The rain lashed down

With a monsoon roar

The night was black

As a harlot’s tooooomb

And the storms

Ripped up

From Gillercombe

 

Third Verse

Got through the night

And in the morn

Still no respite

From the storm

I’ve shot my bolt

And pushed my luck

And now its time

To get to (?) work!

 

Chorus:

Oh the wind blew in from Mickledore

The rain lashed down

With a monsoon roar

The night was black

As a harlot’s tooooomb

And the storms

Ripped up

From Gillercombe

 

(Well it passes the time).

   

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