whether forecast

The further down you go, the longer it takes for the sun to reach you.  Even when you’re desperately craving your neck, gazing upwards.

(Rays of sun light reach over the southern edge of Winnats pass, midday.)

Looking ahead, this is where I’m going, into the mists.

(Along the ridge, Hollins Cross, Back Tor, Lose Hill.)

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Filed under favourite places, hills

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