I'm fairly sure it was still dark when we got up. Either way, it was early, it was Sunday and it was quite surreal. Sundays are not meant for getting up before the sun does. The downsides of winter are - it's cold, it's still dark while you make coffee, going into the hills demands an early start and so it's still dark when you have to get up...
I tried, but wasn't allowed to roll over and get on with some essential snoring practise; the sandwiches had been made, the rucksacks packed and we had a plan. Of sorts...
Saturday had been a brilliant, typical anti-cyclonic day; cold, bright, blue skies and lots of snow on the tops. So we went to Carlisle to Christmas shop and have an early lunch with Donal before he headed of to his Saturday job at Woolies. Sue and I finished with a trot around the shops before taking the dogs for a whizz (see what I did there?) and heading home for a lazy evening, cauliflower cheese, stuffing gear into rucksacks and enjoying "Strictly Come Dancing". Well, one of us enjoyed that part. There had been hard snow over much of the Lakes - I later heard that there had been enough on Great End to glissade all the way down Cust's Gulley.
And so to Sunday. Sunday wasn't as cold as Saturday, but started a lot earlier (see above; while not strictly true - Saturday demanded an even earlier start than Sunday - I just feel the need to whinge about two early starts on a weekend). Rather than chance an hour on frosty roads in order to go to Buttermere and find snow on Grasmoor, we drove into Wasdale where we parked below Middle Fell, hoping for snow high up the Nether Beck valley.
Sue by Nether Beck, Middle Fell above and The Screes in the distance
We found snow alright, an hour and a half up the valley, doing its best to fill the basin below Haycock and Scoat Fell. Unfortunately it was that 'orrible sugary stuff, much of it sitting on ice or frozen bog and more than happy to creep into your boots just to say "Hi" to your socks.
Middle Fell in the middle (!) Seatallan to the right. And snow.
After a mug of soup and a bit of a think about the weather, which had been brightening, but was by now going in reverse with the cloud base dropping and the biting wind finding its way though any weak points in our shell layers, we decided that down was the way to go. More map reading practise (which, since I wrote this on our return, must be paying off!) confirmed that the way home was to follow the path downwards, saw us crunching back downhill.
I think the pub must be this way but will they let me in wearing this hat?
The dogs really seemed to have enjoyed their day out; apart from a brief rampage after the only sheep in the Lakes not off the hill (Dougal!), Bruce had been rolling about in the snow and both had been leaping and bounding through it.
It certainly made me appreciate having legs more than 9 inches long. It meant that I didn't have to drag my nuts through the white stuff ; )
N
Say "No - I only swam once!?!" 
