I'm back in the Lakes on another planned walk repeating a route I walked with Rod back in May last year. Back then we had blue sky and sunshine, much like today's forecast, which as you can see has been flipped on its head. It's not uncommon. I left home around 4am. It was mild and a tad cloudy, but the skies cleared the further north I drove. By the time I reached junction 36 I had clear views of the Langdales under cloudless skies. It was early, but from what I could see I was in for another belter. The clear skies continued all the way north, and after leaving the M6 at Penrith, twenty minutes later I was passing Blencathra and Skiddaw both summits clear, just the odd wispy low cloud over Derwent Water. I arrived at the parking area north of Dodd Wood around 6:30am, noting that despite temperatures in the mid-teens the morning air felt much cooler, so I added my lightweight windproof just to take the edge off. Five minutes later I was ready to leave and entered the Old Plantation north of the car park. The path passes through woodland flanked by the A591 on the left and steep, dense woodland rising to the right. About twenty minutes into the walk I was starting to warm up, and I could feel my calves begin to ache no doubt brought on by their lack of recovery after my Scafells walk two days earlier.

The woodland path began to rise, hardly noticeable at first but gradually steepening once the Ravenstone Hotel was passed. Woodland gave way to hillside, and the first thing I noticed was that the blue skies had been replaced by a build-up of low cloud and lingering mist. My view north was virtually non-existent, though there was still a bit of sunshine punching through over the Grisedale and Lord's Seat fells. The path rose towards the grassy col between Watches and Ling How, where despite the building cloud it was now incredibly muggy, and I had to wear my buff bandana style to stop sweat running down my face. I soon reached the col and was hoping Skiddaw might have escaped the cloud, but it was the complete opposite cloud had completely taken over the Ullock Pike ridge as far down as Ling How, which I could just about make out ahead of me. I still had a signal, so I checked the forecast for Skiddaw using the Met Office app. It had changed in the three hours since I last looked, now advising mist until 11am. There was now't I could do about it and besides, I quite like walking in cloud.

I left Long Side and steered left at the familiar grassy fork that leads to the base of the horizontal path. Heading right here would have taken me directly to Carl Side. After five minutes I reached a rather sorry looking, bone-dry Carlside Tarn and steered left again for the final, steep ascent of Skiddaw. I got my head down as beads of sweat dropped from my hair onto the ground. Removing the bandana now twice its weight and ringed with sweat I wrung it out and folded it into my pack's side pocket, ready for the washer when I got home.

Continuing the ascent, I noticed the sun through the corner on my right, trying to pierce through a thin veil of cloud. It happens, and I thought no more of it. Further ahead, about halfway into the climb, my surroundings were turning from grey to white and back again. Jesus am I about to break through the cloud? I turned around and looked down into the cloud layer, while overhead I could see faint piercings of blue. I was still inside the cloud, but not by much. I continued another twenty feet, the light growing brighter with each step and then it happened. Within the click of a finger, I broke through. Butterflies somersaulted in my stomach before I squeezed my fist into a fucking yes!

I approached the summit from the right so I could keep my eye on the cloud mass which, despite there being little wind, was doing weird and wonderful things. I arrived at the summit to find a solo walker who had just popped up from the shelter, and we shared our thoughts on the incredible cloud inversion. He went on to tell me that despite living near Coniston this was his first visit to Skiddaw because he preferred the Coniston Fells, and it felt like he was having to justify it. I replied, "Walk where it makes you happy, mate," and I meant it.

I summited Little Man, passing a trio of walkers heading down. By the time I reached the top I spotted a larger group leaving Lesser Man, which gave me a few minutes to take in the views before they arrived. The summit of Little Man was well and truly free from cloud, but as I mentioned earlier, cloud clung to the slopes of Jenkin Hill and spread east as far as Blease Fell on Blencathra. I had mixed views between fleeting cloud over Keswick and Derwent Water below. I was also aware of how much time I'd spent watching the cloud including the twenty minutes back on the ascent of Skiddaw which was well and truly justified, but it felt like I had time to make up.

With that, I turned heel and began the descent of Little Man. My plan was to traverse Broad End, the scree slope on the left. I've made this traverse a few times now, and during my last visit with Rod we picked up a trod through the scree that was lower than previous traverses and spits you out overlooking the summit of Carl Side. It's not something I'd recommend if you're not confident walking off-path, but it's definitely a great alternative in good weather for reaching Carl Side.

With the traverse of Broad End behind me, I began the descent towards Carlside Tarn, by which time the cloud had lowered and visibility had dropped to around thirty metres. The ground levelled and the crack-dried tarn bed came into view again just as a chap and his young son were beginning their ascent on the horizontal path towards Skiddaw just as I had earlier. With any luck, I hoped, they'd climb out of the cloud. I ascended the short incline and reached Carl Side, whose summit cairn was occupied by a solo chap studying a map in one of those clear cases, with all sorts of gear spread out on the ground. I smiled "you ok?", but he ignored me, head still buried in the map case. With the cloud down, I didn't see any point in trying to take a photo from Carl Side, so I began the descent towards White Stones.

I passed a fell runner, hands on knees, sweat running off him and gave him a morning and got one in return. Further down, White Stones came into view a place I haven't visited as much as I'd like, but one I'm really fond of. Its position makes it a natural gathering point for walkers either on their way up or heading back down, such was the case this morning. Two families and their dogs occupied the stones, and I passed with smiles and mornings, everyone friendly and returning my gestures, before beginning the descent to Long Doors via the narrow path where views opened out over Dodd, with Bassenthwaite Lake shimmering beyond.

Naturally, it started to get busy with walkers heading towards Long Doors and the familiar bench below Dodd was occupied by a large group. I reached the bottom of the path and briefly thought about a visit to Dodd, but my legs took me in the opposite direction, leaving Long Doors for the mile-long descent through Dodd Wood and the parking spaces thereafter. During the descent I spotted workers erecting new fencing on the steep ground below Long Side, the echoes of their hammers fading until silence resumed. I was overtaken by a fell runner and his two dogs, and then about half a dozen walkers on their way up, most with children and dogs. Scale Beck was never far from earshot but often out of sight until I crossed it at the weir behind the Dodd Wood car park, where my car was parked just beyond.