Due to Storm Bert disappointingly, I didn't make it up to Lakeland on a weekend when I should have walked High Street but with winds peaking between 60-70 mph across the exposed ridges it was a wise decision to stay home. Yesterday (Saturday) it rained from dawn until dusk but with Storm Bert clearing east Sunday actually looked a dry, and dare I say bright day.

I'd taken Brad and Holly out early doors and despite the forecast looking dry we got soaked and the chances of the weather brightening up later looked slim. By lunchtime my fears were confirmed with grey skies stretching from one side of the horizon to the other but seeing as I'd sat out yesterday I wasn't about to do it again so I left home for Georges Lane Horwich with an hour or so walking time.

I left Winter Hill summit and again followed the diversion around the transmitter station before arriving on the new slabbed stone path on Rivington Moor, despite being ten to fifteen minutes before sunset I was passed by a couple and their Dachshund dog who barked at me playfully "you'll have to excuse Richard (the dogs name was Richard!) but he thinks this whole moorland is his! I replied this is his Kingdom while Richard continued to bark from below.

I was passed next by a solo walker and his black Labrador who was carrying a stick three foot in width, stepping off the path so the dog could continue on his way I was greeted with a smile and a nod from the owner. It was 16:00pm and officially the sun had set time but I figured I'd still have enough light to cross Crooked Edge Hill before arriving at Pike Cottage below.

Crooked Edge Hill bore the scars of Storm Albert with the sound of draining water never from earshot. I began my descent down to Pike Cottage and passed a fell runner and his dog jogging towards Two Lads which isn't as uncommon as you'd think given there's only minutes of light left. Finally a fiery crack of colour appeared a solid fifteen minutes after sunset revealing a thin layer of colour between the gloom stretching as far north as Morecambe Bay, the only colours my eyes had seen all afternoon and it was worth the hour of greyness.

A young girl appeared from the snack shack and we shared an hello before she disappeared around the back of the cottage full black bin bag in one hand. Sheep grazed below as the last of the light faded blackness, two dirt bikes pass me their head lamps lighting the way leaving the smell of two stroke in their wake. It was 16:20pm by the time I'd reached Wilderswood and with the night settling in I unlocked my car my head lamps illuminating the woodland opposite.