Sadly David and Rod couldn't join me for my 50th High Street walk due to David hurting his back and Rod still finding his fell fitness after a nasty dose of the flu. As my 50th High Street summit draws to an end this morning which will inevitably allow me to roam the fells once again I'm feeling a tinge of sadness. Since October I've walked High Street on six consecutive walks in varied conditions as today will prove one of those six walks will most definitely count as walk of the year. I'll let you guess which one. I left home under starry skies the moon glowing like a distant torch I only hoped conditions would be the same once Mardale Head was reached, according to the forecast, it would. I got stuck into an Audible book during the drive north and was still immersed in the story line as I drove through Shap from where I left the main street for Keld Lane and Bampton Grange thereafter and arrived at a deserted Mardale Head at 06:50am. I hadn't experienced dark like it, so much so I missed a couple of ice patches which caused the back end of the car to twitched a couple of times under ice which caught me unaware but the majority of standing water was run-off from the fell side and it was flowing. I had everything I needed on the passenger seat including head torch, beanie and gloves just so I'm not searching for them, I was even going to lace up back home but thought against it at the last minute. With my beanie and head torch added I slid a hoodie base layer on and laced up under light from my head torch. It was kinda spooky in the darkness unlike our last early start from Hartsop we could see the silhouettes of the mountains, here, nothing just inky black. Water poured from the crags that supported the car park like someone had left the tap running while a breeze blew down the valley. I had 'good nerves' kitting up and had pre-planned the areas of attention including the small rock step in-between the car park and Mardale Beck just two minutes away. Other areas included the rock steps on Eagle Crag but by then there should be enough pre-dawn light to see where I'm putting my feet. The only thing I couldn't plan for was how much snow had been dumped over the previous days because no webcams cover this area.

After a final sweep of the boot I locked the car and opened the deer gate exiting the car park into the inky black. To test how dark it was I pressed my head torch twice to turn it off and I couldn't see my hand in front of face. I've had the head torch a couple of years now it's a mid-spec Petzl that's adapted to run on x3 AAA batteries or one rechargeable battery pack, I carry both. After stepping down the rock step nerves began to settle the torch leading the way with a ten by five arc in front of me, I was feeling the right explorer now. With no views it was the sound of Mardale Beck and the wind which commanded my attention as I approached the footbridge from where I spotted a head torch at the top of Nan Bield Pass, we both stared at each other for a few seconds and for a minute it looked as if the walker was descending to Small Water but seconds later they'd moved left. It was surreal, just a pin prick of light no silhouette but it was company on the hill and that brought a strange comfort. I crossed the footbridge and turned my back on the head torch only turning around to check on its wearers progress and for a few seconds we stared at each other again the wearers head moving left or right causing the light to pulse, please do not be a distress signal. It wasn't and the walker continued in his/her ascent on Harter Fell.

Continuing towards The Rigg my head torch leading the way over the rough ground until the path turned west for the Rough Crag ridge. It was here I was met by an icy wind but with a combination of layers and exertion through ascent I would soon warm up. Between The Rigg and Swine Crag I ascended in complete darkness, from where I was I had views of my fellow walker still in ascent on Harter Fell, we stopped and stared at each other again before continuing with our ascents. The walker would often disappear behind crags only to emerge further up the ridge; to him/her it would look as if I was walking straight towards them, at least until Swine Crag was reached.

There was no point stopping to take photos or admire the views, it was pitch black so I got stuck into my ascent and soon started to over-heat ignoring it. The darkness was slowly being replaced by the light of dawn my head torch still lighting the way helping to identify ice on rock which glistened back at me. The light was still poor as I crested Swine Crag not stopping to look down from the familiar drop in the wall I continued to Eagle Crag and crested its snow covered summit. The plan was to watch the sunrise from Rough Crag and with just eighteen minutes left it felt like I'd ascended in second gear all the way my engine and clutch now screaming to back off.

I left the summit of Long Stile behind head long into the windchill verglas and rimmed ice underfoot I needed the spikes more here than I did anywhere in ascent but I persevered without. It was exactly 09:30am by the time I reached the summit two and a half hours since leaving Mardale Head which included downtime to watch the sunrise back on Rough Crag.

The windchill was perishingly cold against my exposed skin much colder than the -7° on my anemometer was reading. There was no one around not even on the distant fells the Helvellyn range looked like a scene from Mordor with cloud down to its lower slopes. It looked like a wall of whiteness was heading my way and after I patted the trig with a gloved right hand I left for The Straights of Riggindale.

Within minutes of taking the previous photograph, the snow started to fall, blown horizontally and once again I could see it settling in the valley below. There had never been a time that I'd wished for the snow to stop halfway between Kidsty Pike and Kidsty Howes than I did now. I descended with pace, conscious of how much snow was falling. By the time I reached Kidsty Howes, I knew my descent would be slowed by the various rock steps where snow was beginning to settle. I was overheating, by which time I'd adopted the 'it is what it is attitude. I couldn't change Mother Nature; all I could ask was for me to get out of Mardale before the snow settled. Zigzagging my descent, the snow eased, but I kept my pace up until Kidsty Howes was behind me and I was looking down on the steep grass slope that descends into the valley.

Rain now fell vertically, and I eased off the gas, punishing myself for the panic I'd worked myself in to. Had I overreacted? It felt like it, but during that last hour I had visions of getting stuck similar to the escape I had this time last year when dozens of drivers were forced to sleep in their cars after unforecasted snow had fallen on the county. Heart rate returning to normal, I eased to a crawl and negotiated the bog prior to reaching Bowderthwaite Bridge that spans Riggindale Beck. The Rough Crag ridge was still visible, but it ascended into cloud from Caspel Gate, where it looked to still be snowing. I stopped to take in more views of the Riggindale Valley. Kidsty Pike blended into the white sky, certain of more snowfall. It was incredibly wet underfoot as I left Riggindale behind and rounded The Rigg before beginning my descent into Mardale Head. It was still raining when I got back to my car where I had flashbacks from this morning now overtaken by a warm glow in the pit of my gut.