Arrive in the holy town of Kendal and settle down at home to watch "A century on the crags". A video that I stole from T a few years back for no apparent reason.

It only succeeded in pissing me off. Watching a beardy wierdy telling me that the only way to climb is with hob nail boots and no rope is not the best way to spend an early Friday evening. I persevered.

Chis was due in at about 6-7pm after getting a lift up to Kendal with a girl from down South. Apparently it was both a money-saving and time-saving exercise. Getting to the pub at 11.00pm (nine hours in a car) and having to buy a return ticket anyway, as its cheaper than a single, led us all to believe he was interested in more than just saving money.

Got pissed. Went to a shit night club. Tried to get to a party. Got lost.

Saturday May 27th

Next day it rains. We have no wheels, as Dave is off to Cartmel races with the crowd for a flutter. Standing defiant Chis and I pop up to Tilberthwaite as it was most definitely a 'slate day'. It rains, so we go for a pint of Bluebird in Coniston.

It finally stops raining and Chis throws down the gauntlet and attempts The Curver (E2 5b). He fails. I don't even try!

Should have gone to the races - not surprisingly, Cartmel was the only place in the Lake District that didn't get pissed on.

Get back and pop round to Lou's for a Barbeque. Make a fire on her front drive, get a lungful of toxic smoke and talk late into the night. Get pissed again. Stumble home.

Sunday May 28th

Bit of a slow start. Me, Dave, Chis, and Sean troop off to Castle Rock of Triermain to do some climbing.

Get waylaid in Ambleside where we all do a bit of shopping. Bought a camping mat (£10 - robbed!)

Get to the crag about 4pm and Me and Chis lead a Severe each. I shat myself and Chis shot up it looking distinctly bored. Dave A seconded me in his super-snug, limestone pocket-optimised, contoured competition boots. Sean escapes.

Me and Chis then decide to stay out, as Sean had exam's to revise for, and Dave a girlfriend to keep happy. After begging a lift to Borrowdale we were dumped in a field, and befriended by a pathetic looking Labrador. I needed a beer.

The Lanstrath Country Inn looks a bit pants from the outside. It looks more like one of those teashops that you would find in Grasmere that's full of geriatric tourists. We were pleasantly surprised - a roaring fire, cheap beer and stools at the bar started what turned out to be a pretty messy night.

We drank too much Bluebird, and upset the landlord. To top it all off Chis made very good use of his social skills by making a grown man cry through telling him that Pete Livesey was dead.

Monday May 29th

Woke up with major hangovers, and slightly less enthusiasm about the proposed climb we were to do - Falconer's Crack (VS) on Eagle Crag.

Tried to cook breakfast on Chism's high-altitude mountain stove. Two hours, a box of matches, a bottle of paraffin and a tube of primer later we eat a dubious looking bacon and egg buttie.

Set off up the valley to Eagle Crag. It takes about two hours before the crag is looming menacingly above us (it looked over-hanging). We take a breather, and sit down to check out the line.

It was about now that the penny dropped. Falconers Crack…Eagle Crag…The connection was birds, and two very unhappy Peregrines swooped down to let us know that Falconers Crack was definitely off limits today. Shit…we were so looking forward to that climb. Slimy, overhanging, exposed and windy climbs is what makes the world go round.

Settle on Lining Crag, which the guidebook refers to as an idyllic, and lovely crag. We thought it was a bag of choss. A bag of wet choss at that.

We set off on Evening Wall (S) which neither of us enjoyed particularly. Finally ate chism's, by now, tired looking Rhubarb Pie, and returned to the valley. Tried to motivate ourselves into another climb. We failed, and put it down to a curious lack of balance and acute dizziness.

The evening was more interesting!

Dave and Lou came up to meet us in Rosthwaite. Chis meets a mate of Andy's in the pub - with his son - and we arrange to meet him later for a fire and drinking. We finally make it back at about 11.30pm and Neil goes a bit weird.

A gallon of paraffin, two disposable lighters, two bottles of wine and more beer than I care to remember later, and things get a bit messy.

The holly tree will never recover, everyone falls over, Dave injures his foot, I injure my hand. Neil looks for more flammable stuff. We run away.

Tuesday May 30th

And I thought yesterdays hangover was bad. Woke up at 5.00am to glorious sunshine. Woke up again at 8.30am to driving hail.

After sitting in the tent getting slowly wet for an hour or two we decided that it was time to move on. Off to Keswick in search of breakfast. Si Tully had by now joined us, and while I had a kip in the car, they decide that it would be good to go back to Borrowdale.

Keswick - sunny. Borrowdale - pissing down. Typical.

Go to the Bowderstone to do a bit of cranking. Chis and Dave get pumped, and wet. Me, Si and Lou do fuck all.

At this point things again went a bit weird.

Lots of young bible-bashers dressed in long skirts and trainers appeared from nowhere. There were literally hundreds of them. And then they started to sing. We laughed uneasily, and tried not to think of cults.

After walking back to the car in the pissing rain, we decide that the only course of action is to head down to Kendal wall. It was either that or ten-pin bowling! After fighting our way through the bank-holiday traffic we arrive in Kendal just in time for the sun to come out.

This time we don't let the Lake District weather fool us, and head down to the climbing wall regardless. We were right, it didn't take long to start raining again.

Drink tea and eat the excellent climbing wall chocolate cake. Chis burns everybody off, but at least we didn't get wet!

That night Me, Chis and Si pop down to The Brewery for a pint or two, and were presented with a one-man band playing Joe Satriani tunes at full volume. Go outside instead!

Wednesday May 31st

Woke up without a hangover??!!

The last couple of rain swept days pissed us all off enough that we decided to find some gritstone instead. Bridstone Boulders beckoned.

It took us about two hours to get there in a car that smoking was not allowed. Arrived to a sprawling mass of tourists and fought our way through the crowds to try and find somewhere quiet. Eventually find it and realise that I had forgotten my boots. Shit.

Decide to accept my fate and do a bit of belaying and photography. Dave gears up and gets ready to start off on a severe. Chis pisses everybody off by immediately soloing a VS next to it in his trainers.

Dave does his severe, and Si follows him up it.

After pissing everyone off by soloing a VS, Chism decides to do a horrible climb. I can't remember what it was called but it takes a nice line, and then half way up goes off the nice line and onto a shit line.

After pulling round a pretty grim looking greasy roof style chimney, an unprotected delicate slab leads to a belly-flop onto the top about 20 feet above.

Maybe I shouldn't have shouted that he should really get some gear in, when he was about 15 feet above his last placement. He knew that, but there was nothing available. I think he might have started to sweat a little!

Decide that we can't possibly do anything else without a cup of tea, so head off to touristville once more. Decided against buying a cornish pastie for £1.70, drink tea and decide to try another climb.

Wednesday May 31st The last climb of the day was called Right Crack, and was a nice looking route up a vertical wall. Again Chis accepted the challenge, donned a silly hat and about two and a half tons of gear, and set off with a skip and a jump.

I took the role of official support, which involved lobbing up the odd hex, when he realised that he didn't have the right size, and generally taking the piss out of him.

It only took the rock-rat about five or six hours to climb this one, with more time spent farting about on gear placements than anything else. One of those gear placements was extremely good - but then thats another story!

Eventually he was pondering the final move - a mantel-shelf, come chimney, come jamming extravaganza - so I thought I'd wander up to the top to greet him.

"Where are the holds," he said.

"I'm not telling," I replied.

Afterall that would only succeed in taking away the true on-sight success. Something that I know Chis is extremely concerned with. On top of that there weren't any anyway!

He eventually belly-flopped onto the top, and Dave got ready to follow. Again it only took him about four or five hours, with most of that time spent on trying to get the bloody gear back out.

One lost hex, lots of cursing, and plenty of fags later we were back at the car planning how we were going to get suitably pissed later that night.

Drinking games always come in handy....