Thursday, 14 December 2006


For most hill-walkers, winter walking conjures up images of snow filled corries, bright winter sunshine and a flask of hot soup at the summit cairn.

Not where we come from. Inevitably, winter-time walking with my LeJog Trainer (aka Phil) means Mud Up To My Goollies, rain coming in horizontally and finding the car by head-torch.

Well, yesterday was a little better than that. As usual, my LJT planned it, did the transport thing, and dragged two reluctant compatriots around the ten mile course, to eventually find the last car in the car-park just as despair was setting in.

The good bits included TWO pubs (excellent planning there) and a café. We did have the horizontal rain, the MUTMG and to add a bit of interest, a stream that seemed to flow uphill for a few miles.

We met sheep blown about like tumbleweed, Dartmoor ponies and numerous rather terrifying sink-holes that appeared to be bottomless.

Returning to the pub thing: I had heard from Ali Ashton on this blog that in fact my body is actually allowed twenty eight units of alcohol a week rather than the twenty one I had believed. So my LJT & I wasted no time at all in making up this week’s difference at lunchtime. The afternoon’s walk flew by.

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