Saturday's Lakeland forecast had been fixed on dry but cloudy this weekend, yet closer to home the morning promised something brighter. That was enough to set my mind wondering over where to walk locally. A new approach to Pendle Hill looked tempting right up until I arrived at work yesterday morning I was getting out of the car when it hit me: why not do a Winter Hill sunrise walk instead. Sunrise is around 5:34am, Winter Hill is only half an hour away, and despite the early hour it felt very doable. It's been a few months since I last needed the headtorch, so when I got home I stuck it on charge then left it on my cars passenger seat ready for the kit-up. I left home at 4:30am and arrived at Wilderswood at 4:55am parking beside a motorhome whose owners were probably fast asleep inside.

Winter Hill has its share of strange tales from big cat sightings to UFO mysteries, strange lights and orbs - there's even a dedicated YouTube channel which I visit once and again but until I see something with my own eyes I remain firmly sceptical. Still, it was pitch black, and one of the more recent big cat sightings was from this exact spot. Perhaps I was being watched. Perhaps I wasn't. Best not to think about it. I locked the car twenty minutes earlier and set off up the bridleway through Wilder's Moor, eventually joining Rotary Way where I got my first glimpse of dawn over Bolton and a distant Manchester. There was barely a breath of wind, but the air carried a definite chill and by now I was wishing I hadn't left my mitts at home. I was undecided which camera to use the DSLR or just the mobile. The DSLR handles direct light far better… provided you don't leave a giant smudge across the lens like I did. But more on that later.

I left Two Lads and began the short descent towards Rotary Way, briefly losing sight of the figure before they reappeared about 150 yards ahead on the road itself. I was still waiting for the sunrise to break properly and it finally appeared around five minutes after I joined Rotary Way. By now I'd worked out the figure was female, and out of simple courtesy I wanted to keep a comfortable distance just to help her feel at ease.

I stopped to take a few photos of the sunrise, only to notice she was heading towards me. Within minutes we passed with a pleasant but slightly awkward "morning." A young girl should feel safe whenever she's out alone, but when it's just the two of you at 6am in the middle of open moorland… well, it felt a bit awkward for me anyway. She'd been taking plenty of photos on her phone, clearly enjoying the moment. And honestly good on her. She'd got up at stupid-o'clock, drove out here, and came to appreciate the good things in life. Fair play.

The sunrise had put me on a real high, not quite believing how spectacular it had been. I was snapping away at free will, and the morning handed me an extra bonus: I didn't have to detour around the transmitter station. Access has been closed for the best part of eighteen months due to mast cable replacements. The detour was never huge, but in winter it was boggy enough to swallow a boot, so I was more than happy knowing my boots would be staying dry today. I left the transmitter station behind, often stopping to look back at the first light spreading over the moor. The whole moorland glowing with a vivid gold and yellow hue.

The temperature hadn't changed but the breeze had dropped. Even so, the tips of my fingers, end of my nose, and my ears were all feeling the chill. I arrived at Winter Hill summit expecting the usual boot-losing bogs, but this morning the peat was dry and cracked, the caps of my boots brushing the grassy dew as I crossed over. I was probably twelve miles from home, but for those few moments it felt like paradise.

Footnote: I only realised when I got home about the giant smudge on the cameras lens which might explain why the sun appears smudgy.

It's a pleasant stroll west to reach Noon Hill, and for once it was nice not to have the sun in my eyes, blinding me and setting my ears streaming. With the sun still rising now over my shoulder, I wandered towards the summit, knowing I'd have to pass through that natural depression on the hillside the one that always holds water like a swimming pool. I joked to myself that with it being so dry lately, it might feel more like walking through a desert.

How wrong I was.

A burial monument on Noon Hill sitting about a mile to the east of Winter Hill's summit. Archaeologists have dated the Noon Hill mound to around 1100 BC, which always adds a quiet weight to the place when you're stood there alone in the early light. It's been excavated twice first in 1958 and again between 1963–64 by the Bolton and District Archaeology Society.

During those digs, the cremated remains of three people were found: an adult male, an adult female, and a child. Their ashes had been placed beneath a collapsed food vessel inside a central stone cist. Several secondary cremations were discovered too, along with flint tools, arrowheads and scrapers. It's a peaceful spot now, just a grassy rise on the moor but there's a deep history tucked just beneath your boots.

I left the two fell runners at the summit and began the short, rutted descent, passing a chap and his blue Staffie who looked cute in a bright pink collar. We exchanged a "morning" across the fellside before I joined the cobbled track, then Belmont Road shortly after. The sun was climbing fast now, well clear of the moorland and back in full view.

The track, normally alive with flowing water was dusty underfoot and awkward with its rutted stone, but I left it behind as the path climbed towards Pike Cottage and the Snack Shack, who I follow on Facebook. It was only a couple of months ago that Dudley, the black Labrador and chief pasty taster, passed away. His memorial bench now sits overlooking Rivington Pike, no doubt part of Dudley's old running ground.

Half a dozen dog collars hung looped over a nearby fence; I wasn't sure if they'd been lost and found or were a tribute to Dudley. I liked to think the latter. I left Pike Cottage behind and walked the half-mile back to Wilderswood, passing a fellow walker who offered a cheery "morning" before the parking area came into view at the edge of the moor. It was only 7:25am and by now I was starving so I figured I'd treat myself to a McDonald's breakfast on the way home, and maybe climb back into bed for an hour.