So I went out walking Loopus up the local cycle path, our usual route.
It was stunning, no need for a torch for the first time since the snow disappeared. The wind was strong, but it didn't feel too cold until I realised that the ground was starting to freeze. Birds called, chirped, and whooped, and a solitory fox yapped in the distance. It was wonderful. There and then a wee plan hatched...
Saturday night saw David and I meet at Gargrave at around half 8.
"Your car or mine?" he asked.
"Mine, Ah've got the dug!"
"WOOFWOOFWOOFWOOF!!!!"
"Wheesht, Loopus, it's only David!!!"
By 9 o'clock we were at the Ribbleshead Viaduct, walking towards Whernside by the light of the silvery moon. Loopus, kept in the car for the last 90 or so minutes, was running around madly with that look of disbelieving pleasure on his face at being somewhere new with all of its smells to explore. Whernside looked magnificent with a decent amount of snow still on its flanks and peak.
We wandered up the path with Loopus always a short distance ahead of us. We said good evening to the Permanent Way, out working on the Blea Moor tunnel of the Settle-Carlisle line.
Further on, we crossed a stream, Loopus plowtering on ahead across the ice to find that the water was 6 inches below it! He came along the opposite bank to face us; we'd just seen the bridge that we would use, but he looked as if he was going to come back across to us. I didn't want this to happen, as I couldn't see what was below the ice. So I called to him to "SIT, WAIT!" and to my astonishment, he bloody did, too! Even when we'd got across! I called him to me, and he was given a big reward.
So we continued up, setting a rough time to turn back, and stopped for photos occasionally. Loopus wouldn't sit still long enough to get a shot of him in the moonlight, there were too many smells to explore, too much ground to cover. He was loving it.
We turned back not long after this, realising that if we'd got our act together and been out there an hour earlier we'd have been able to reach the summit. As we came back down, we could see the reflection of the P-Way's lights in the Blea Moor tunnel , and the houses in the valley. The Station Inn's lights were blazing, the fruit machine doing its rhythmic flashing lights thing through a frosted glass window. It looked inviting, but we needed to get back; we could have a drink another time.
As we parted at Gargrave, we said that we'd have to do this again. It was bloody wonderful to get out on the hill, even if we didn't make the top. Oddly enough, the last Saturday of February should have a full moon too - let's hope the weather and the moon are feeling co-operative...
