I'd booked a couple of days off work, and as far back as a week ago, I'd set my heart on walking one of two walks: Harter Fell and Hard Knott from Jubilee Bridge or Yewbarrow from Overbeck Bridge. I don't like to be predictable, but anyone familiar with the website will know I try to walk Yewbarrow during the month of November, but now it's got more personal it being the first walk I walked after the death of my father. The forecast, however, wasn't playing ball; in fact, it was all over the place, which isn't unusual when putting your trust in the forecast is the most hit and miss thing you can do at this time of year.

According to the Met Office, Central and Eastern Lakeland looked like the best forecast, although MWIS (Mountain Weather Information Service) predicted less than a 30% chance of cloud-free summits. Weatherline, however, had raised the bar to 90% for the east of the park. The Met Office forecast for Grasmere stuck forecasting sunshine from dawn through mid-afternoon, when rain would arrive from the west. It's kind of like spinning plates with the weather gods, so I put my trust in the Met Office and returned to a walk, which in 2016 had almost seen me benighted due to deep snow; today there was no chance of that; in fact,  I was lucky enough to experience a classic autumnal walk were, by pure chance, the forecast paid off.

It had rained heavily through the night, both at home and in Lakeland, and I was expecting a wet walk underfoot, more so given where I was walking which even in the summer is still quite boggy. It was a grey drive north, but after several sharp showers as I drove between Ambleside and Grasmere, the clouds parted, revealing blue skies and even a rainbow beyond. It had stopped raining by the time I'd parked up, but there were still droplets in the air as I began my kit up, adding gaitors and my waterproof jacket from the off. In hindsight, I should have been wearing my windproof, fleece-lined trousers instead of a regular pair, which will probably get folded away for winter after today.

Despite the blue skies, the treat of rain never seemed far away, and moments after turning right onto Pie Lane and Broadgate, the heavens opened, forcing me to put my hood awkwardly over my beanie, and moments later, as quick as the rain arrived, it had stopped again. I kept my hood up as I passed White Bridge Forge, where a metal worker was measuring a length of steel with a tape measure while Jackie Wilson's 'Your love keeps lifting me higher' played in the background. Unbeknown to me, said song would be my earworm for the rest of the day. I hate it when that happens.

Watching where the rain was heading, I continued my descent before passing a solo chap, and after a brief hello, we stopped to chat. As it turned out the chap, whose name I forgot to ask, was originally from Manchester but has since moved to Arnside, north of Morecambe Bay.

We shared a similar interest and had picked up plantar fascilitis due to our passion for fell walking, and he'd even visited the website for a walk or two. If you are reading this, I hope you enjoyed the rest of your walk on the Greenburn Horseshoe. It was really nice to meet you.

Both the chap and I watched the rain scuttle east, expecting it to stop just as quickly as it started, but the rain spread, and after parting ways I noticed my jacket was being pelted by rain drops. I looked back up the ridge, but in the time it had taken the rain to spread both myself and the chap had covered some ground, and he was out of sight. I couldn't help but feel sorry, not just for him but for the three solo women, one of whom was just a young girl taking a soaking right now. I really thought the rain was going to ease, but it didnt ; in fact, it got heavier, and by the time Ghyll Foot was reached, I was soaked through.

Once again, a canopy of trees came to my aid as I descended from Ghyll Foot towards Low Mill Bridge, where I was passed by another young girl who'd stopped to wipe her glasses before saying hello. Rainwater was draining in the gutters carrying along pine needles and leaves. Low Mill Bridge was passed from where I headed left towards the A591 and the Travellers Rest. With the A591 reached, it was safer to walk back to Grasmere on the opposite side of the carriageway, which at least afforded me a view up a raging Tongue Gill, the white water almost drowning out the traffic over my shoulder. The sound of water cascading down the hillside faded as I passed the Traveller's Rest before taking in the view towards Stone Arthur. While below, during a fleeting few seconds of sunlight, the woodland shone in autumnal glory.