Dirty cloud obscured the rising sun, with just a small distant patch of orange beyond Great Mell Fell and some reflected colour to the west to betray the start of a new day. A cacophony of barking, baying and yelping accompanied the start of my climb above the kennels at Gategill, and I could still hear them some time later from hundreds of feet above. Continue reading “On My Tod”
The forecast for the weekend was poor, maybe even bordering on lunacy, and was the main reason why we’d decided not to camp this time out, preferring instead the security of hostels and especially the chances they afforded to get dry and warm after a day out on the fells dicing with the conditions.
The title’s probably a touch dramatic, but in my post New Year’s zombie-like state of mind, it seemed to do the trick. Of course, if you believe the Mayans we’ve just had our last New Year’s Eve parties (no loss there really) as the world is due to end sometime this year. Continue reading “A Day of Judgement”