The first “proper” winter hill walk is always special and
yesterday’s walk up Great Dodd delivered an unexpected bonus, for as we
approached Troutbeck, we saw several fell tops covered in a dusting of snow. Once
we were above the bog hop that was Bruts Moss, we hit the snow line and
revelled in that unique, squeak of boot sole on snow. Molly, as always, was highly excited, racing
round on the sparkling, icy carpet in exuberant fashion as we trekked to the
summit. The absence of wind was uncanny,
creating a feeling of deep peace in the beautiful stillness.
The first “proper” winter hill walk is always special and
yesterday’s walk up Great Dodd delivered an unexpected bonus, for as we
approached Troutbeck, we saw several fell tops covered in a dusting of snow. Once
we were above the bog hop that was Bruts Moss, we hit the snow line and
revelled in that unique, squeak of boot sole on snow. Molly, as always, was highly excited, racing
round on the sparkling, icy carpet in exuberant fashion as we trekked to the
summit. The absence of wind was uncanny,
creating a feeling of deep peace in the beautiful stillness.
