Three Barlickers made their way to Gargrave to take part in John Thompson's Eshton Moor Race. Jack Smith of Wharfedale carried on his good form winning by 2 and half minutes. First Barlicker back was raging bull, Lee Edwards in 6th place. Richard Lowther is another solid performer at present and also came home inside the top 10 in 9th spot. Perennial racing machine John "Duracell satnav" Boothman ran his 3rd race in 3 days finishing a creditable 16th, after his jaunts up Stoodley and Widdop.

1 Jack Smith 33.22
6 Lee Edwards 38.03
9 Richard Lowther 39.25
15 John Boothman 43.24
27 Hannah Watson 46:59 4th lady

This eagerly anticipated pub run took place last night. A great night for it, with cracking views from Simons Seat. With Glenn Whittaker injured, Satnav and massive AWOL, it was up to the hardcore pub runners to take care of themselves. Which meant a straight forward decent paced run, much to the dismay of riverdance Ingham. After his track session the night before it was hard to tell if it was his mental or physical performance that was suffering. Andy Collins set off at famous Craig pace but like his idol didn't know where he was going and was soon reeled in. As the gents approached the hill Riverdance and Livers showed their class on the rough terrain and were soon cut adrift by the famous Craig like spurts of pace forced by Collins and then CaptainTreitl.  Jock was also annoying everyone by getting to the front of the train and then walking. He was quickly dispatched to the back with a few choice insults, known to the standard pub runner as banter. Once at the top, the lads had their customery argument about whether they could see Blackpool tower because it was a clear night. The funny thing was the unnamed person swore he could see it even though he was indeed looking the complete wrong way. Livesey and Ingham finally made it to the top and once Livers had stopped shaking because of his fear of heights, the lads were off back down to Ted Mason's village.  Firstly though we had to guide Scott "Mr Wharfedale" Baistow over the flat paths, as the last time he came on this run, he managed to fall on the untrickiest of terrains, resulting in a few grazes and a smashed ego. We finally made it back to the river Wharfe for a cool off, but didn't bother with the tree swing as Jock would have clearly snapped it and spoilt it for future use.  So back in the Craven Arms for a few Raspberry Blondes, abuse and the usual moaning about how rubbish everything is. Ted Mason came in and kept us entertained for 20 seconds with his tale of his race at the weekend. We all yawned and went back to quaffing ale and generally abusing each other until 11. Then we disappeared off into the night and dreamt of the feast to be had at Castle Boothman next Wednesday.