With a few days off work this week I set about planning a couple of walks which I had planned around the weather. On the cusp of Autumn during a wave of low pressure it wasn't the easiest of tasks.

Looking ahead this week looked a total right off but with the weekend out of the way things started to calm down and I was able to pick out a couple of days when the forecast looked to be dry and bright, today being one of those days. I don't mind cloud, in fact it can be a came changer but I can't get my head around how the forecasters can get it totally wrong.

It's been an age old question which as a fell walker I should be used to by now but that doesn't stop the frustrations creeping in. I'd originally planned a walk through the Great Langdale valley taking in Lingmoor Fell but according to the forecasters the east, and far east of the park looked the brighter day and when someone mentions the far eastern fells to me I immediately think High Street.

Even though there was a lot more cloud about than I'd anticipated down in the valley it was feeling quite mild and for now there was no need for a hat or gloves. I'd managed to park against the stone wall which divides the car park, a privileged space where I don't think I've ever parked before during all my visits to Mardale. On the opposite side of the car park a chap is also kitting up who nods a 'morning' as I lace my boots up. By the time I was ready to lock my car I noticed the chap walking the footpath close to where I took this photo so I hung around a few more minutes just so he could get a good lead on me.

As expected for a Tuesday morning the car park isn't full and the valley has a real quiet feel to it, just the way I like it. Once the chap was out of site I locked the car and passed through the Deer gate noticing just how damp underfoot it was which isn't surprising given the amount of rain we've had over the last week. I cross the footbridge over Mardale Beck and tell myself to slow down, this isn't a race, there's no rush to get home and you've no work in the morning. Perfect.

Autumn has reached Riggindale where the wild grasses had turned into a rich orange now that the bracken has died back while in the distance I can hear the distinct sound of the Deer rutting as I stand on the spot listening in silence to try and distinguish where the sound is coming from. Sighting no Deer the rutting continues until it fades into the distance.

Wherever the Deer where, they appear to have moved on possibly above the ridge.

I continued over Swine Crag and spotted the chap who had left just before me less than 50 yards ahead. I lost sight of him then spotted him again who by now had somehow gained a good 200 yards on me, jeez I muttered, this guy isn't just fast, he must have a flipping time machine! I crested Heron then Eagle Crag(s) and soon arrived at the splendid summit of Rough Crag.

From Rough Crag I took in the view up the ridge towards Caspel Gate and Long Stile where I spotted the chap again, yep the guys got a time machine I muttered again. By now any sunlight had succumbed to cloud which had overcome Mardale III Bell and was creeping over Blea Water towards High Street. The cloud seemed endless and no sooner had one wave passed another was on its way.

Yeah, Autumn has definitely reached the fells.

I'd reached the top of Long Stile where I stopped to add a pair of gloves and a hat as my hands and ears where starting to feel the pinch by now. Feeling much more cosy I head off towards the summit trig point and spot the chap who was using the wall as a windbreak while he sat and drank from a flask. I removed my left glove and drew my wedding ring across the trig point making sure I heard the scratch before slipping my glove back on, it's a ritual that I've always done today being that little bit more significant as its my 40th High Street summit.

I pass the chap with a 'hi' and we break into conversation on where we're heading next, as it turns out the chap is from Nelson in east Lancashire and was repeating a walk that he'd last walked 20 years ago. "Looks like you'll get the clearer views" pointing towards Mardale III Bell which by now was lost in a wall of cloud. We part with 'enjoy the rest of your day'

I totally forgot to ask him where he got his time machine from!

I left the summit of High Street and followed the stone wall for a short while before parting left for the singular grassy track where visibility was cut to just 10 yards in places. After joining the stone path the cloud would part then close in again. I reached the summit in eerily silence even the wind seemed to have dropped. It's been some months since I last walked in cloud and it's easy to forget the silence it brings.

An hour ago I was down beat knowing I'd lose the views but I wouldn't change it for the world now and, it's only going to get better.

The rain stopped but it still felt very Autumnal across the summits as I began my descent towards the top of Gatescarth Pass. I seemed to make the descent in no time unlike the three chaps carrying mountain bikes up the pass who I passed with an "alright" "think so" one chap replied.

It was mild enough to remove my gloves but I kept my hat on through the embarrassment of hat hair. Further down the pass I pass a Norwegian woman and her dog who in broken English explained that she was only hiking to the top of the pass. We commented on the forecast which we agreed, hadn't turned out as planned before bidding each other to enjoy the rest of the day.

As with most lakeland passes the ground underfoot was rough which didn't seem to hold me back as I took in the twist and turns before the pass begins to level. Peering up to Harter Fell gully I was drawn back to a conversation I had with the late Ron Black who asked me "had I ever attempted to climb it" "are you trying to kill me" I joked back. The car park was much busier now but there was still places to park as I pass through the Deer gate around the same time a lady with a Cocker Spaniel arrived from Haweswater permissive footpath "what a perfect day for walking" she cheerily smiled. I agreed while hooking my jacket into a waiting coat hanger.

I'd arrived this morning on the pretence of a much sunnier walk than what I got but what I lacked in sunshine was made up by the cloud dramatics over the Kentmere valley, the light rain that was never forecast and the feeling of solitude that only the far eastern fells can provide on a damp, cloudy weekday.