Storms Isha and Jocelyn have left high winds in their wake, in particular on the high fells, with gusts averaging over the last week 40mph, with some summits exceeding wind speeds of 80mph. Most, if not all, of the snow that fell has thawed, leaving streams and rivers in spate, yet above 700 metres, the freeze thaw continues. It's fair to say that Lakeland has been licking its wounds for some weeks now.

The trio were meant to get back together this weekend, but I had to duck out due to having a new stair carpet fitted, meaning I was needed around the house on Saturday. I managed to wrangle a day off without checking the forecast, which, as it turns out, didn't look too bad on paper despite the high winds, which were forecast at between 30 and 40 mph, and that was at valley level. No matter where I walked today, I was in for a fight.

The forecast predicted that the east of the park would be the brightest, and after checking my mapping software, one place stood out: the Grisedale valley. You might remember that I attempted this walk at the beginning of December but was forced to turn around due to snow. Despite the wind, an attempt on St Sunday Crag looked manageable. If I walked westerly into the headwind, I would walk through the Grisedale valley first and have the wind on my back for the mile between Deepdale Hause and St Sunday Crag's summit.

It was windy but clear when I left home, and I was surprised to find it had clouded over when I arrived in Patterdale with the intention of parking at the Cricket Club, but I managed to squeeze into a space at the layby opposite the White Lion Pub. Patterdale was deserted, with just the odd car passing as I switched the engine off. The noise from the wind outside instantly took over. With the summit windchill into double figures, I kitted up for a chilled day on the hill, not bothering with my mitts instead I dug out my Montane winter gloves meaning I wouldn't be handling my mobile phone which I stored in my pack's lid pocket. I even remembered to slide my buff over my head to keep my neck warm, and after a longer than usual kit-up, I locked my car and left Patterdale for Glenamara Park.

Within minutes, it started to rain as I passed through the woodland behind Patterdale Hotel, but it soon stopped the moment I'd cleared the trees, where I was presented with views of Arnison Crag's north ridge and Birk's directly behind. The path was swollen, almost flowing underfoot, as I made my way through Glenamara Park, where I crossed Hag Beck by half a dozen well-placed stepping stones. Thankfully,  the stones protruded just above the water line managing to keep my boots dry for now at least. With Arnison Crag behind me the path passes below Thornhow End, which I'll be descending by later. From here, I swerve right and drop onto Grisedale Lane and the Grisedale Valley shortly after.

Up until now, I'd been protected from the elements, but the further I walked into the valley, the windier it got, and with it came a brutal windchill causing my eyes to water. We're not into minus double figures just yet, but not far off.

Last November's turn around came flooding back to me, and as I watched the clouds scuttle across the sky while my conscious repeating the question, 'What are you doing here?' I'm not one to walk myself into trouble; should the conditions worsen, I won't have any issues turning around, but I'm gonna put up a fight first.

The further I grew towards the summit, oddly the winds eased a little having little effect on the windchill which was brutally cold leaving exposed skin wind burned and painful. Summit time was kept to a minimum again by which time it had clouded over which probably descended the temperature another couple of degrees, but blue skies were opening up over Ullswater in contrast to just how uncomfortably cold I was feeling.

The wind eased as I continued my descent under winter sunshine. The windchill didn't feel half as cold as I took in fantastic views over Ullswater and Place Fell. With the descent behind me, I reached the path below and began the short walk back to Patterdale while the sun beamed directly above Trough Head at the head of Hag Beck. It felt a million miles from the chill of Deepdale Hause as I began to overheat from the exertion of the walk, but I'd put up with it as the Patterdale was so close.

Patterdale was only slightly busier than this morning, where the sight of a gang of scaffholders working at The White Lion Pub brought me back to reality as I collapsed my walking poles and began my kit down, first easing off my boots to see how the Sealskinz socks had faired. Yes,  they had kept the damp out, but I think next time I should invest in a winter pair rather than an all-season because my feet felt like blocks of ice. I switched the engine on to warm up directing the heater vents towards my feet for obvious reasons. I took my time kitting down; there was no rush to get home as I soaked up the winter sun before I climbed back in the car, closed the door, and relished the silence while the engine warmed up.