Dartmoor Gliding News–Sunday 6th April 2014

"I wouldn't do this if they paid me for it!" said one delighted Dave Parker. Delighted, that is, to be stood at the east end of a rain lashed airfield, the wind ripping the words from his mouth as he watched Jerry Wellington in the (warm dry) digger and Mike Swann mounted on the (cold wet) vibrating roller 'redistributing' some of the abundant peaks on  the track into the more needy troughs.

We had already got a thorough soaking just surveying what had been achieved over the preceding 'task' week (very impressive) against what  remained to be done, so another couple of lashings was, well, water off the proverbial...

Not gorillas in the mist – but heavy plant crossing – can you tell what it is yet..!?
(Mike Swann on the roller being guided by Dave Parker).

It has to be said, though, that 2 hours impersonating a motorway building gang was quite enough and as we retreated to the haven of the clubhouse and the woodburner to dry our sopping gear - which quickly overtook the aroma of the Sunday Soarers' bacon, eggs  sausage and tomato - we reflected upon what good planning it was by those who, 30 years ago, decided to put the club buildings in such an effective hideaway from wind and rain. 

Jerry Wellington, Mike Swann and (in the distance) Dave Parker redistributing some of the track (from crown to ruts)

Our flagging morale rapidly restored by tea and crumpets, courtesy of Dave Parker, there was just time for a couple of briefings to our Junior brethren Andrew Swann and Mike , before grandfather Mike decided that a hot bath and dry clothes were the order of the day.  But not before they swept the mud from the hard standing outside the hangar.

Mike Swann and juniors Andrew and Mike sweeping down the hangar apron.

And so we departed, some to the prospective arrival of a new Wellington (Jerry's first grand-daughter) whilst others were happily  looking forward to pouring 2 inches of water from their existing ones (boots, that is). And none of us were paid for it - nor would we wish to be...!

Martin Cropper