The cool breeze strengthened to a squall, pressing clothes close and tight. A light drizzle flurried in the air making it a woollen-hat-over-the-ears day. Mother Nature had called to say “hello” and give us a gentle reminder that the Pennine Hills could be a changeable, bleak and dangerous place to be.

A cantankerous Texel ram froze Peter and I with a challenging Catalan stare that proclaimed, ‘This is my patch and don’t you forget it’. Not before the ram was sure we’d got the message, did it saunter away to let us pass.