February

[Sweder]

Wow!
A fabulous if exceedingly cautious splurge through the snow-mantled hills this morning. The higher I climbed the thicker the snow, the only down sides being a) poor visibility (cloud sat like a great grey mother hen atop Blackcap) and b) the potentially lethal camouflage concealing the myriad of nooks, crannies, rocks and tree-roots along the trail. I hadn't realised quite how constant my off-road reconnaissance usually is until I got the equivalent of a series of warning lights and alarm buzzers going off in my head, the terrain before me innocently portrayed as smooth and flat with no sign of the perils lurking beneath.

I compensated by slowing down and adjusting to a sort of slip-sliding gait, run-shuffling up the hills into heavy mist and Narnian landscapes that took my billowing breath away. On top of Wicker Man Hill the snow, whilst not deep or crisp, even, was considerably thicker than the semi-sludge back down the trail. It looked for all the world as if it had been dumped from a giant snow skip, all in one go. Tree branches and gorse bushes groaned under their sudden burden, bowing as if to kiss winters’ cold white hand.

Despite my pledge to spare all the wobbly hell of my phone cam I shot a couple of clips. The first shows the dogs chasing around Blackcap, frolicking in the snow like children. This is not too bad, as I remained pretty much static.

The second returns to seasickness hell with a chug down the east side of WMH.

Five miles in a shade over an hour.
How can time be relevant on a day like this?