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BB2514
: By the Order of the
Rambling Knights
St
George's Day: Wednesday 23rd April 2025
On this hallowed day
of Saint George, Patron of England, when dragons dare not stir and the red
cross flutters proudly in the breeze, six stout-hearted Englishmen once more
took up arms—well, walking poles—and strode forth to conquer that noble height:
Wansfell Pike.
The warriors of the
path—Stan the Steady, Stewart the Stalwart, Mike TV the Talkative, Mike II the
Miraculously Moisture-Wicking, Tony the True, and Robert the Rambler—gathered
in Troutbeck beneath a sky as grey as a Norman castle but with spirits bright
as Excalibur’s blade.
This was no foreign
battlefield. Nay, this was familiar ground—Wansfell, our old friend and worthy
opponent, climbed many a time, but never without reverence. The ascent began
with the usual winding path, slick with morning dew and echoing with the call
of curlews. The men moved in formation, boots thudding in rhythm, tales of
hikes past mixing with gallant banter.
As they reached the
summit, the clouds briefly parted—as if St George himself had pulled aside
heaven’s curtain—and the view stretched from Windermere.....
..... to the snow-kissed
Langdales.
Cheers were raised, sandwiches unsheathed, and flasks passed around
like chalices at a round table. A toast was made: To England! To Wansfell! To
comrades on the climb!
The descent was swift
but sure, our heroes bounding down with the kind of vigour that only comes from
English pride and a pub in sight.
Tales grew taller, legs grew shorter, and by
journey’s end, all agreed: it was a fine day to honour Saint George, not with
sword and steed, but with sweat and steadfast boots.
God save the Boot
Boys. England expects — and we deliver.
Mike II, the Miraculously
Moisture-Wicking, 233rd April 2025
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