Premonitions

From Jubilee Hill there was (with aid of the telphoto lense) a good profile of British Camp (The Herefordshire Beacon), with its sculpted sides carved out by the defensive ditches of ancient man.

It was whilst looking at this the GF became conscious of the impending weather that was sweeping in from Wales. Just dark in this view, but slightly off to the right the rain could be clearly seen as it erased the landscape.


No time to hang around, Gorse Fox continued towards Pinnacle Hill and Black Hill.

Now this is where the photos dry up for a bit, because this is more or less where Gf was when theat Welsh weather hit. The camera was squirreled away in the rucksack, and the jacket zipped and button, and the hood raised. At that moment the first drops hit, and a squall blew in the wind was strong enough that it made it hard to walk, the rain turned to hail and visiblity plunged to a few tens of metres. Like many others, GF was caught in the open, and found the easiest approach was to hunker down with his back to the wind until the worst had passed.

There is something deeply unpleasant about being so wet that your trousers are stuck to you and there's a cold trickling sensation in your underwear (though on second thoughts, that might be preferable to a warm one). GF strode on through wind, strode on through the rain though, though his map was tossed and blown. But he walked on, walked on, with hope in his heart that their might be a pub at the next cutting!.