Christ, Scott had a shitty journey last night. But he got here finally and we had a few hours kip before heading out to miss the joys of the M25 on a Monday morning. Got to Dover early doors and snagged an earlier ferry. Ferry food sucks! I don't think there are any eggs in the scrambled eggs, and the beans were watery and tastlesss. Should have stuck to croissants, but I was trying to keep the healthy thing going.
Got to Milly in just under four hours - not bad. Sorted out the tents - John had forgotten to include pegs to the one I'd borrowed, so we improvised and sent slagging texts. Then headed off to Apremont, thinking that it was a bit showery, but it would be close to the road.
Arse. Road was closed, so couldn't drive all the way to the main car park. Instead, parked at the south end and bush-whacked around for a bit.
Finally got to the near car park area. Easy problems were all wet, so ended up doing stuff that was probably too hard, and wasted too much skin. Stupid, where's my self-control? That's what happens when you don't get out on rock much.
Didn't hear back from the others, so we just sorted out food at the campsite. It started to bucket down, so we cooked at the toilet block, hopefully not setting a precedent for the rest of the trip.
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