Pennine Lines w/c 7 July 2025

This is how spring normally goes, how it’s supposed to go; a waft of wild garlic carried down the dale on the river breeze. Benchmarks repeated, the barometer recalibrated. Good banter at the Tor. Familiar faces, back again. Stone is here with that same weird blue PVC gym mat. Ted edging with glacier-like inevitability towards the belay on Evolution. Wide-eyed and fresh-faced owners of immaculately clean pads spill four-deep out of a hatchback, first time bouldering outside, looking for the easy “V7s”, never to be seen again. A dance as old as time itself.