Forest Frolics
RIDE no :: Nash Bash #4
Friday 19th July 2002 Thetford
Hares:: Crabbo (with thanks to MrBossy for research)
After 500 miles and very thirsty, I finally found Bidwells Scout camp at 5pm, somewhere on the outskirts of Thetford Forest, thoughtfully located beyond the low railway bridge (lucky Robocop wasn’t coming) and down some unmettled roads fit to test any 4WD. My first encounter with CRABs life was Crabbo (and the rest of t’committee) ‘testing’ the Bash beer, informing me that it wasn’t available to the general Nash Bash proles until 11pm and the nearest pub was miles away and was probably shut and there would be a trail there but it wasn’t laid yet. I was sent away to drive over another assault course to my allocated camping area.
My next encounter was with TalkingBollocks, who relayed the instructions from MrBossy (who was out mislaying a trail) – where I had to camp and park, what time I was allowed to go to the pub, where and when I was going to eat. Apparently he had arrived three days earlier with a collection of farm vehicles and trailers to set up the extensive Camp Bossy. Other bashers were now drifting in from all points south and were involved in frantic efforts to assemble tents and bikes. Most entertaining was Cannonballs, who was using all his army training to demonstrate how to erect his new ‘3 minutes to erect’ tent in just over an hour.
Finally around 7pm, with the trail laid (all 3 miles of it), we were allowed to go out in search of beer. Crabbo provided something of an obstacle course for the gentle ride to the pub – junk yards, gravel traps and a rugged trail teetering on the edge of the river bank. After 20 minutes, at last a pub. Time for a couple of pints of fine local ale before force-feeding and lager in the local Chinese. Back to the trail. On arrival at the 2nd pub the pack had already left; the reason was obvious – they’d drunk the pub dry! MrBossy suggested a ‘short cut’ over the local slag heap (apparently the highest hill in Norfolk). We arrive at the 3rd pub at 10:55. It still has beer (and the pack), so we make up for lost time by stock-piling a few pints.
Being the last to leave the pub, we were now reliant on MrBossy to get us back to Camp Bossy. All went well until we arrived at the start of Crabbo’s gentle in-trail. Mr Bossy insisted that we re-trace the perilous out-trail, risking life and limb, not to mention a late night swim. Luckily we met up with Mother and his bright night lights to guide us home. Miraculously we made it back to Camp Bossy to find the crowds gathered round the camp fire. More beer, wine and even champagne flowed until the early hours. All good preparation for the following day’s events.
On!On!
Eileen
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