It was a beautiful but bleak day in the hills yesterday. The
rapid overnight thaw was a surprise but there was enough snow to leave us with
the exhilarating thrill that comes from crossing virgin snow, the icy crust
breaking with a satisfying crunch underfoot.
The light was ethereal at times as the clouds scudded across the sky at
an alarming rate, evidence of a powerful jet-stream high above us,
orchestrating the weather. High on the fell we fought against its destructive
power, the wind whipping our faces and tearing relentlessly at our clothes as
we returned from the summit.
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