I have just relit the boiler after it lost an argument with a stormy night. The rain now isn’t torential but it is audible, even when wearing headphones.
Tuesday, just two days ago, was calm and blue - save for small fluffy white creations sown by the contrails of jet aircraft.
With the resonable excuse of needing fuel for a long walk, a bench over the road from the excellent Marsden village bakery is my favorite place to tuck in to some of their wares. Between sips of coffee I ponder whether pastry outside of this pie heaven is usually made deliberately worse because butter is too expensive.
Starting up a gentle slope to the first reservoir the sheep outnumber other walkers. For awhile the path becomes a series of mini reservoirs. A 4x4 comes through like a speedboat.
Such a warm October day would usually mean I was in Portugal. I was soon tempted to hang my jumper in a tree to collect on the way back.
Drop down along the next narrow reservoir and you’ll want to stop so the loudest noise isn’t made by your own boots.
At its end there is a scramble up a steep slope to meet a section of the Pennine way. Holding on to the heather, Sun in my eyes, there are kestrels circling above.
I’d feel quite adventurous if it wasn’t for the fact some dog walkers many years my senior seem to make it up here every day!
