Despite having the time off last weekend, I didn't make it to the lakes due to the poor weather, but I still managed to enjoy a local walk over Counting Hill and Winter Hill last Sunday. Like many other local walks, this one didn't make it to the website. When I emailed David and Rod about today's walk, I had no idea that we'd actually walked through Dovedale almost one year ago next weekend, which I found pretty uncanny. I wonder if returning to the same places is related to the seasons, quite possibly. This walk found its routes well over three years ago, as so many times we have walked the ridge from Little Hart Crag towards High Hartsop Dodd, from where you get spectacular views over Stand Crags and Stangs, all three of us uttering the words 'we really need to plan a walk over Stangs' and after years of saying it, here we are.

I proposed an anti-clockwise route, first travesing the Hartsop above How Ridge, up onto Hart Crag, over to Dove Crag, from where we will descend onto Bakestones Moss, which is where we would leave the crowds behind before making a high-level traverse across Hunsett Cove. It was from this cove that we spotted a path that led directly from Bakestones Moss towards Stand Crags, but us being us, we wanted to explore as much of the area as we could and included the steep grassy north ridge situated directly below the south aspect of Dove Crag's summit, from where we would gain Stand Crags and Stangs. It's been a while since we went off piste to do some exploring in an area of Lakeland which hasn't changed since the last ice age.

We had arranged to meet at 8:15am, and I arrived around 8:00am to find David's car parked up, minus David. I was right, figuring that David had taken Calva up the lane towards Lane End to stretch Calva's legs before we all arrived. David soon returned and was surprised to see that I'd arrived in a brand new Peugeot Expert van that I was testing for work, and we both imagined how good it would be to kit it out into a camper.

Moments later, Rod and Louise arrived, and Calva performed his rendition of the 'zoomies' for Louise having never met her before, and I'm sure Louise was smitten before she had the chance to lace up her walking boots. Both David and Rod have chosen to wear shorts, but for whatever reason, I'm wearing my Montane walking trousers because, in the week that I've missed I obviously think that winter has arrived! It's a cool, bright morning and much milder than what the forecasters had predicted, with the temperature already climbing as we locked the cars and carefully crossed the stepped wall to join the grassy track towards How End.

Silence ensued as we descended alongside the narrow stream, each of us concentrating on where we were putting our feet. We had left the cold mountain air behind and had descended into a warm afternoon. David delayered again once the hole in the wall was reached. Water coursing from a three-foot drop in the wall left slime-covered rock, and we descend carefully throwing our walking poles forward so they don't hinder. Just three feet, I know, but three feet of slime. Poles gripped back in hands, we continue our descent until the footpath is reached proper.

A group of walkers are not far behind, who we had seen from Stangs earlier. We stop to photograph one of many waterfalls in Dove Beck before continuing our descent, each of us tip-towing through a plateau of quagmire. Soon after the footbridge over Dovedale Beck is reached and after we crossed it, we let the walking group pass us. We still had over two miles to go as Hartsop Hall is reached just as sunlight breaks through the thick canopy of clouds above. It doesn't last, but the mildness of the afternoon continues as Brothers Water is passed along with families who picnic on its shores below.

Cow Bridge is reached where we hook a left for the narrow footpath through Low Wood, where two runners pass us from the opposite direction. Tree routes do not get much light through here as cars and bikes pass below. Murmurs from Goldrill Beck below between the silence, but predominently the sound of traffic and smell of two stroke's accompanied us back to Deepdale Bridge. The walk had a 'day of two halves' to it; this morning's sunshine certainly was a treat, but when the clouds arrived, intrepidity took over, and we explored to our hearts content.