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Spending a week in Cumbria back in May, all quite an intense experience - my much loved Mum had died a three weeks earlier.

As said in my previous reply I fell totally in love with Castlerigg even though first seen in the pouring rain. Later in the week we made the long drive down to south Cumbria to visit Swinside which I had read was on a par with Castlerigg as surrounded by (albeit less dramatic) fells. My friend, doing the driving, was a keen walker, whereas I just wanted to get to Swinside. Shared holidays are about accommodating each others interests so I readily agreed to the five mile walk my friend had planned - which in theory would take us across Swinside Fell to the circle.

We parked in a village on the road to Millom and set off. Friend was however using an old 1960s one inch map, a big mistake as it transpired; after crossing the A5093 (a fast road) we walked downhill towards the astonishing site of a reservoir being 'restored to nature' - workman and diggers moving tons of earth around. Before too long we were hopelessly lost and to make matters worse we had just picked our way through a bog only to find ourselves hemmed in by barbed wire fencing. My feet were wet but we had no alternative other than walk back through the bog retracing our steps. My friend was now hungry and wanted to abandon the whole project in favour of food but I was determined - "lets just try the turning for Broadgate" ... we did and found a clear signpost up a single track road to the circle.

Car parked and a walk of about a mile up the track across open fenland with just cattle for company. By now completely chilled due to soaking wet feet and a cold wind blowing - this visit stands out as my most uncomfortable but thoroughly worthwhile. Its a beautiful, perfect and remote stone circle - with a fairly strong possibility of having it to yourself. Just don't do it the hard way.

Mine's easy..... at Coedcae Gaer hillfort on Christmas Eve I had the complete misfortune of finding myself literally in the middle of a fox hunt..... there's me thinking these were illegal.

It fair made my skin crawl to have to share a hillside with such worthless scum, but I was determined not to be intimidated by all the heavies watching in pick-ups, so blatantly went over to a bloke on his quad and said I was going to cross the barbed wire fence and look at the hillfort.... 'hillfort?' he replied, looking utterly bemused. 'Yes, that thing over there', said I, pointing.

I sincerely hope the fox outwitted them, since it doubled back past me into the hillfort.... needless to say I kept stumm...but guess I'll never know.

Dunkery Beacon on the Friday before Christmas. The weather was awful - pouring rain and a incredibly strong wind on the Beacon itself - and got progressively worse the further I got. I would have turned back but the trip was quite a long one and would have been a waste of train fare if I had. I had picked up a blister on the Stiperstones two days before and on this walk I managed to get a blister on the blister. Lovely.

By the time I got off the moor and took shelter in Luccombe church, I was entirely soaked through my waterproofs, including my boots. My gloves were wringing wet and the supposedly dry spare socks and t-shirt in my rucksack had also got soaked. (Mr Monkey did manage - somehow - to stay dry though).

The five mile walk back to Minehead was horrible and I sat soaking on the bus back to Taunton as well, trying to dry out on the rubbish heater on board. Yuck!