Last week we headed to the Lake District to build some teams by walking up a gorge. We were all excited about enjoying some country air and a pleasant stroll along a picturesque valley, apart from those of us who had looked it up on youtube.

We travelled there in style, though obviously the 2009 and 2010 coaches of the year were slightly beyond our budget. We can affirm that 2008 was truly a vintage year, though.

Once in a very wet Coniston, we were briefed over lunch on the details of our impending doom. Appetites round the table noticeably shrank as we were informed that the rapids were the fiercest they’d been in months.

After squeezing into our wetsuits, we strode out to brave the thunderous gorge, carefully avoiding eye contact in case it forced us to acknowledge that we’d all just seen each other naked. Ultimately, we all had an awesome and nearly totally safe time thanks to our lovely instructors.

Nobody even almost died, apart from Steph, who managed to lose her balance, tumble down about eight waterfalls, beyond the safety rope, emerging at the bottom of the river mostly unscathed, but with a strange faraway look in her eyes that said she had faced the abyss and would never be quite the same again.

This goat looked unimpressed about the whole thing:

From gorges to gorging, we finished up the day with a feast, a barrel of real ale and a pudding competition. Some of the entries:

Dark chocolate truffles with dulce de leche filling. Sounded better than it tasted. A bit pretentious and the cocoa dust was a legitimate choking hazard.

Bought from a shop. Shameful.

Millionaire’s shortbread. Little bit sickly. A good effort.

The winning entry, Ed’s semi-crushed-in-a-car-boot sticky toffee pudding. Just the right balance of stickyness, toffeeness and puddingness.