Walking above Ribblesdale this afternoon I realised that a degree in meteorology wasn’t necessary to deduce I was about to get an almighty soaking. So I took this photo, tucked the camera away in my bag and braced myself for the downpour. Head bowed I battled back to the car. The label on my cagoule says waterproof – but it doesn’t say leakproof. My drenching lasted less than ten minutes but the wetness stayed with me a hell of a lot longer. Strong winds soon blew the storm clouds up the dale and I hung around to see if the new light following quickly on behind would illuminate Penyghent from the west. It didn’t, but as can be seen in the other photo, the cloud clung to the peak, looking like smoke rising from a slow-burning peat fire. The scene may have improved later on but as I was starting to smell like a wet old dog I wasn’t hanging around to find out.
