Despite the glorious sunshine there was a nip in the air, so I added my fleece lined softshell to take the edge off and was already regretting choosing long walking trousers. It was due to get quite warm later so I filled my water bladder with 3.5 litres of summer fruits and emptied my pack of a few non-essentials to lighten the load though it still landed against my back with a thud once shouldered. I left the dusty car park squinting into the low sun and picked out the fence line I'd be ascending by beyond the overspill car park and made my way towards it.

By now I'd reached the stone slabs, around 1,100ft into the ascent, and despite knowing the ground eased beyond still questioning my stubbornness as I stood there in a sweat soaked T-shirt. Recovered, I got stuck back into the climb and noticed the fence I'd been following was leaning directly over the slabs most likely the result of folk hauling themselves up using the fence wire. The fence was half collapsed, held together by rusted strands and I was grateful there was no barbed wire involved. Once over the slabs the gradient did ease, and I continued following the fence across occasionally swollen ground until it steered right towards the summit. Not like I was counting but I'd managed to make it from car park to summit in one hour and one minute - my OCD quietly cursing the fact that I didn't make it exactly on the hour.

With Windy Gap just beyond Green Gable, my stomach was churning into knots knowing that once I decended into Windy Gap there'd be no turning back. Even now, every time I'm ascending Green Gable, my stomach still does a little loop the loop at the memory. Good stuff.

He told me he was on a three day wild-camping trip on the hill. He'd started from Buttermere and spent a night on the High Stile ridge, but after that he kind of lost me pointing at places rather than naming them. He did mention he'd been up Scafell Pike yesterday, so I figured he must have camped at Sty Head and then come up Green Gable via Aaron Slack, especially after saying he'd only been on the go for about an hour.

From Windy Gap I got stuck into the ascent of Great Gable first by the almost horitzontal path that ended below a patchwork of boulder followed by the odd scramble.

The descent is slow going, steep and loose in places, and it's essential to stick to the path, even more so in descent. Eventually the chap came back into view as he reached the top of the zigzags, before disappearing from view again.

As it turns out the chap was from Carlisle and had set off from Seathwaite this morning and by now was second guessing why he'd included Kirk Fell in his walk which would mean he would have to re-ascend Windy Gap via Stone Cove which was quite a task I agreed. I left the chap and continued my ascent - the guy just minutes behind me until I steered right towards Kirk Fell's north top where my boots thanked me for its easy grassy gradient. Turning around I spotted the guy following me but then he stopped, turned back and rejoined the path, he either didn't want to summit the north top or thought I was heading the wrong way.

Positioned directly opposite the shelter's entrance, I eased myself down and instantly felt the warm sunshine on my face while the stone wall kept the wind out. I stretched my legs, unclipped my waist strap, and used my pack as a giant pillow, my body sinking back as my shoulder straps lifted away. I must have looked ridiculous had anyone wandered in, but I was unbelievably comfy.

She told me she'd be completing her Wainwrights today on Great Gable pointing at to Kirk Fell as number 213 before spinning around to Gable for 214. I was genuinely taken aback and absolutely delighted for her. What started as a quick exchange turned into a twenty-minute yarn about all things Lakeland. My one piece of advice being after today, lose the numbers, forget them, and walk at free will.

My mobile phone rang, and I figured it would be one of two callers: work, or more serious my wife Paula, who would only to call if it's urgent when I'm out on the fells. I let it ring off, but when it started again I downed pack and rummaged through the lid to retrieve my phone. A missed call from Paula. I couldn't ring her back straight away as the signal was dipping in and out, so I descended a little further until the signal returned and the call connected. Paula answered immediately with, "Are you on your way home yet? I'm in Sainsbury's, the traffic's bad, what do you fancy for tea."

My signal held for a few minutes, long enough to report that the walk hadn't burned me out, a positive sign that my fitness was returning. I turned right and began my descent towards Honister Mine, glints of sunlight bouncing off half a dozen car windscreens on the car park below. I'd left Kirk Fell nearly two hours earlier, and it was close to 1pm by the time I arrived back at the car park, where I passed a Honister Land Rover Defender idling keys in the ignition, just chilling there on the dusty gravel followed by a single decker bright orange Honister bus with its battery on charge. A layer of dust had settled over the paintwork of my own car, thick enough to write your name in. Car unlocked I began my to load my gear into the boot not notcing the elderly couple parked alongside who were reading news papers. I removed my creased Softshell from my pack, placed it on a hanger then hung on the hook on the passenger rear. Easing myself down I began to untie myshoe laces as little dust clouds escaped the laces, a sure sign of a great day on the hill.