I threw in a suggestion: why not start with Silver How, then wander over to Loughrigg via Dow Bank? By the time we were locking the cars, we'd sketched out a rough route that felt which we'd make up as we went along. The morning turned out calmer than expected with barely a breath of wind and even the odd break in the cloud showing hints of blue. Hardly the conditions we'd been been expecting.

There was no need, at least for now, to don the waterproofs, so I attempted to fold my jacket neatly into my pack the way they do in clothes shops. Predictably, I made a complete hash of it, lost my rag, and stuffed the thing into my pack which in turn, triggered a quiet little OCD episode in my head which, unbeknown to David, went ignored.

The treelined lane offered some shelter from the rain, and after passing the hostel the road junctioned sharp right and through the trees we caught sight of the steep path leading up onto Loughrigg Fell.

That said, two couples had just set off and another wasn't far behind us. We'd stopped earlier to pull on our waterproof jackets, which turned out to be perfect timing as the drizzle turned heavier and the views, murkier.

Finding solid ground was scarce, and we had to weave around the boggier sections, sometimes gaining a little extra height over the humps and hillocks one of which was Black Mire at the southern end of the fell. From there we had a fine view of our final descent via Loughrigg Brow, and beyond it the long sweep of Windermere.

Continuing our descent, David mentioned a walk we'd done back in December 2019 the one where he celebrated his 2,000th outing. "Well Paul," he went on, "just over a week ago I surpassed my 3,000th walk. Today is walk 3,004." I tried to reply, but first I had to pick my jaw up off the floor. Joking aside, as I've said before, just because we don't have Walkthefells anymore doesn't mean David has stopped walking the Lakeland fells. If anything, he's getting out more.

The A591 at Pelter Bridge came into view the rain still pouring but the crowds came, jostling for space in the car park while others looked on. The incline that followed was steady and pulled at my calves, but we kept the pace up, if only to escape the crowds. Through the woodland, Rydal Water appeared, and David and I were the only two who dropped down to the lakeshore path; everyone else continued towards Loughrigg Cave and Loughrigg Terrace. Silver How was now cloaked in a mix of murk and cloud, and through the drizzle I don't mind admitting it made for a dismal scene. I felt quietly thankful we'd reached its summit during those brief gaps of sunshine five hours earlier.

We headed through White Moss Common Wood, where a polite young girl stopped to ask how to get onto Loughrigg Fell and then to the caves. We told her it was a good four hour round trip, and with conditions deteriorating we advised she just visit the cave. She thanked us warmly before we crossed the new bridge over the River Rothay. A right turn would have taken us back to the A591 via White Moss car park, but we turned left and followed the river towards Penny Rock Woods and on to the weir at Grasmere. I'd hoped to stop for a photo, but with folk on the bridge I thought better of it. Leaving the Weir and woodland behind, we joined the A591 and walked single file with Grasmere on our left and heavy traffic a foot away to our right. We passed the Daffodil Hotel, crossed the mini-roundabout, and soon the lay-by came into view now emptied of the half dozen campervans that had been there this morning now replaced by cars. Kit-down took a while: laces wet, fingers chilled, jackets soaked. But in those last few minutes before heading off, we both agreed how good it felt to have stayed ahead of Storm David and squeezed five great hours on the hill