We have got away early so we take the route home over the Corpse road, treading again in the footsteps of countless pack ponies over the hundreds of years before us. If you’ve seen any of the films I’ve made about my travels with horses you’ll know that there’s always a curlew in there somewhere. They instantly give a sense of place, a barren and open wild place. But the last 2 years the skylarks have started to take over that feeling of wildness and freedom, and here on Swindale common, the skylarks sing and fly fast and free.

The bridleway follows an old pack horse route that cuts up the side of the fell and then past through a gate at the top where the path joins the forestry track. They’ve been felling trees all around Harry Walkers Ground and it’s the first time I’ve been here since the trees have been felled. Once we’re on the track I hand the halter over to Richards daughter and its within 5 minutes Mathew wants to lead her as well.

As we get about half way along the lake shore the paths peter out and there are more than a few craggs to scramble over. The light is fading fast so I re-evaluate my timescale. As I work out a new route around some craggs with a couple of the guys it’s also brought to my attention that one of us has a broken head torch. This is an issue if we have to negotiate craggs in the dark. Then as we discuss it, it turns out that we have two dodgy head torches.

And then the wind comes in hard. We’re all getting tired. the wind gets harder. So strong that I insist on Flo being ahead of me so that I can see her. Its relentless. The wind, the rain and low visibility. This is not fun. This could be serious unless I use all my skills.

Once I turn onto Lingmell Gill I get my first glimpse of the summit and grasp the steepness of the incline. I’d read up on the routes up to Scafell Pike and they all said that none of the routes were easy, but I hadn’t been quite prepared for how steep it is.

As I reach the summit of Knowe Crags the path leads close to the edge of Gategill and suddenly I’m blown away by the enormity of the gill. I have had this feeling several times now (especially on the last trip at the top of The Nab) where the scale suddenly hits you and I feel humbled, insignificant by mother nature.

But there is no shelter now. Visibility is down to about 50 yards. I hear voices way before I can see anyone and thats saying something in this wind. 2 men are coming down off high street. We exchange pleasantries about the wind and rain and check in with each other on my map as it wasn’t a well marked path I took and I don't want to end up the wrong side of high Street

At the far end of the ridge I meet up with the man in blue. There's a bit of a queue to get down the far rocks of Striding Edge. A group of East Europeans are a bit stuck and the man in blue is helping them find some foot-holes. He's from Glasgow and has been up Helvellyn about 10 times. We chat about the rocks here. "These rocks are the ones that kill people up here" he says. I follow his lead and climb down backwards. I wouldn't like to be up here in the wind and the rain.

As soon as I leave the car I feel the first drops of rain. It's an easy gravel track for the first stint but I'm soon stepping between slate and rocks and before I know it I turn around and I'm in another world. The clouds are grey and black and It's starting to feel like the entrance to Mordor.