If anyone actually read my post last week, they would have seen that I rashly wished that I had started my walk on 9th March going south to north. As I turned my head from blizzard that assailed it on my morning walk across the East Hill on Friday, I had absolutely no regrets whatever that I had missed out on camping on Kinder Scout that night. I had to screw up my eyes to walk into the cutting wind.
Not the worst blizzard I’ve experienced, of course. I remember about 20 years ago crossing the bridge over the Dnieper River in Smolensk. It was -10°C, and storm-force easterly winds were carrying minute shards of ice, which cut into my cheeks like daggers. On that occasion I could not open my eyes into the wind, even for a split second.
Closer to home, and much closer to why I want to do this walk, a friend this week sent me the following quote from Wordsworth’s poem ‘Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle’ (thank you, Cecy):
Love had he found in huts where poor men lie;
His daily teachers had been woods and rills,
The silence that is in the starry sky,
The sleep that is among the lonely hills.
I think the song which is silence is the most joyful song of all.