The dark nights have started and so have the winter pub runs. Plenty of fun, especially when Pete Jackson is in charge of the route choice. This week, it was Widdop and the Pack Horse. It's a cracking little pub, situated on the moors between Lancashire and Yorkshire. It sounds far away but going up Lenches and through Thursden valley, it only takes about 25 minutes to get there from the capital of the North (Barnoldswick). Once we got there, it was time to don the head torches and head out into the unknown. The race route would've been a little long for our social jaunt so Pete had been and reccied a route over the weekend and said those words we all dread to hear him utter- "Don't worry lads, I know the way!". So off we went minus the Gaffer(fat cankle Jock). We hopped over a stile into the first field and Pete got us lost. We scurried about looking for the elusive exit from the first field and eventually stumbled across it. At this point I was dreading the rest of our night time excursion into the unknown but to be fair, it was the only time we went wrong. It had a bit of everything in it, a forest, a reservoir, rock, bog, mud, stone slabs, ups, downs and lots of leaves as Pete pointed out through the forest. With the pub being at the top of the world there was a little sting in the tail with a three quarter mile climb back up to the drinking hole. The run was pleasant and the beer was top notch. Satnav even ordered a black pudding stacker and then had the audacity to ask for a poached egg with it. The chef told him where to go in no uncertain terms much to our amusement. A good night and next week is the more local Punch Bowl in Earby so hoping to see even more people enjoying the unique banter the pub run brings.