Despite being between storms the forecast was too poor to keep Rod off the fells today, but, living a tad closer than Rod, I thought I'd bring in the new year by walking my favourite fell, High Street.

My intention was to walk an anti-clockwise circuit of Mardale Head, and that was still the case before I arrived in Mardale to find thick cloud cover that stretched from Mardale III Bell right the way across to Harter Fell and Branstree, but what confirmed my change of route was also the south westerly wind direction, which would mean I'd be walking into the oncoming wind.

A few weeks ago, I mentioned to David and Rod that I'd like to reach 50 summits of High Street before my 50th birthday in May, which on paper is easily doable. Present conditions may keep me off, so may work, but it would be a nice figure to aim for to celebrate my 50th on the fells

With a null between Storm Gerrit and Storm Henk I left home under cloudless skies, which remained that way as far as Shap, where I left the motorway to views of the High Street ridge which looked more like a scene from Mordor with summit cloud clinging to the entire High Street ridge from south to north. As the blue skies disappeared in my rear view I joined Pow Lane, bound for Haweswater, where I dodged fallen tree branches and flood water.

Despite my late arrival, and given that today is New Years Day and most of the nation are nursing a hangover the car park at Mardale Head was full, and after failing to park I settled a little further back up the lane in a rough cutting flanked by crag where water cascaded down eventually spilling out onto the road below.

Kitting up was fun with what appeared to be a river running beneath my car. I walked a few yards away carrying my boots, just as it started to rain. I don't think there was one person in that car park who wasn't cursing the incorrect forecast. Laced up, I returned to my car and placed my mids into my boot, and while using my tailgate to shelter from the rain, I completed my kit-up - or I thought I had. At this point, any normal person would have added over-trousers, but I sought sanction in the forecast, believing the rain would stop soon which it did but not after drowning me first.

The rain fell heavy and vertical, and by the time I'd reached the footbridge over Mardale Beck, I looked like a drown't rat. I cursed myself. I found a large boulder which I rested my walking poles against and in the pouring rain I de-shouldered my pack and added my over-trousers, and, for good measure, my packs rain cover. Two minutes earlier, a solo walker had been approaching but turned around, and the last I saw of him, he was back at the car park. Either he'd forgotten something or the rain had put him off.

Had I added my over-trousers back at the car, my legs wouldn't feel so wooden under my over-trousers, which I hoped would dry soon. Re-shouldered, I followed the path towards The Rigg, where I spotted three pairs of walkers heading for Kidsty Pike. With no one behind me, it looked like I might have the ridge to myself, so I gripped my poles, and began my ascent on Swine Crag.

No sooner had I thought about removing my over-trousers did it begin to rain again, this time heavier, but thankfully, it didn't last. With Swine Crag and Heron Crag behind me, I was able to get a good look at the ridge ahead, where I found a solo walker at the base of Eagle Crag. The walker was just standing there, and for a few seconds I started to get a bit worried, but the closer I got, the more I realised he was looking at a GPS that he had strapped to his left wrist.

Hanging from his pack was a notted carrier bag, which patted against his pack after the slightest movement. My first thought was, 'That would really annoy me' The wind by now was disguising my approach, so I snurched noisily, which got the walker's attention, causing him to spin around, by which time I was almost stood on top of him. "You ok, pal" I asked, and he replied in a bordered Scottish accent, "Aye, no bother; I just hope this weather will make its mind up. Do you think we'll get any sunshine?" "Well, it's done just about everything else" I laughed while noticing he had a GoPro fixed to his chest. I wished the chap to enjoy the rest of his walk before continuing towards Rough Crag.

Here, you can see the pair of walkers re-joining the path. What happened next was totally magical. The two walkers, for now, maintained a good distance ahead until they dropped further onto the ridge ahead. Unbeknown to the pair, a herd of Deer were sprinting along the right shoulder of the fell side right below the couple, who were totally oblivious to it all, when, with no reason, the Deer doubled back, ascended the ridge, and crossed the path from right to left just feet in front of the couple. Even from my distance, I could see the couple were totally shocked by this, as was I. What had caused the Deer to double back and cross the ridge?

As I descended further, the couple were still amazed by what had just happened, and it looked like I'd soon catch them up, but before I did, I spotted the chap wearing the red jacket I'd seen at Caspel Gate earlier who must have spooked the Deer, not before taking well-timed photos with his DSLR camera. I didn't get a chance to talk to the red jacket guy, but I did pass the couple, who, as it turned out, were on holiday from Norway. They went on to explain that in Norway, they had never encountered wild Deer as close as they had a few moments earlier, and they went on to question me about how common it was. What just happened was extremely rare, I explained, and to see them as close as you did was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

In the fading light, I left the Norwegians and began my descent, a descent that, after years, I have mastered to the point where I can descend at pace. With the gap widening, the couple were still on the ridge as I dropped into the hollows and crags that form Kidsty Howes. The path narrows and twists through groved rock and soft peat, which had been weakened by the rain where it paid to test footings first. With the rock and peat behind me, I found myself at the top of the steep grassy bank, which today felt and looked like a water slide.

Testing footings became more common, but I was still able to maintain a good pace as my boots soaked up the flank of the fell until the gradient eased over more boot-swallowing bog. There was no way around the bog; each step was as boggy as the next, it was just a case of going for it. Bowderthwaite Bridge came next, where I stamped my soaked boots on the concrete foundations to rid them of tangled grass. It worked, and for measure, I rinsed them in the beck. Just two walkers ahead disappeared around the headland that forms The Rigg, and minutes later I joined them, where my view was filled with Harter Fell in the fading light and folk returning to their cars who, like me, had just enjoyed their first walk of 2024.