Shortly after entering the cave, my five weeks of newborn-induced sleep loss started to hit me. Don rigged the first three pitches of the Cathedral route and I prised my eyes open just long enough to rig the three lower pitches.
Dr Miller seems to have taken up punning in the latest lockdown, splitting my sides with such acerbic quips as, “Do you think the other guys are MONKeying around on the Monastery pitches?” The guy’s a banana.
It’s a short trip and we were in Sink Chamber less than an hour after leaving the sublunary world. The band of brothers from the monastery soon joined us and I asked politely if I could just nip back the way I’d come in, favouring whichever route would lead me to an earlier siesta. Chris Special K showed bravery and escorted Don on the monastic derigging punfest.
Good to be back to doing club trips. Once I’m a bit more into the rhythm of regular sleeping patterns I may manage a trip of over two hours without drifting off. They do say the first eighteen years of parenthood are the hardest.