2. Be careful with your money - maps can last up to twenty years if you take great care of them
Great Whernside - January 1992.
Bit more adventurous this time. I seem to remember him muttering something about the bloody fog and if we followed the little line of crags to the right, we'd come to a wall and we'd be back in Kettlewell within the hour.
So we followed it.
And then we followed it a bit more.
Then it disappeared, so we followed where it would have been, had it been there, if you catch my drift.
An hour passes.
Somewhere, hidden in the cloud, over on the Western horizon, the sun has it's cocoa, winds up the clock, puts the cat out and prepares to sizzle into Morecambe Bay for the night.
Denis has a logical explanation. Hill fog, you see, is, by definition, on the hill. Dropping down the hillside will increase visibility dramatically and there, below, will be the fine Yorkshire village of Kettlewell, twinkling in the gloaming.
So we drop down out of the fog and there, below, sure enough, are two bloody great reservoirs. But no Kettlewell.
The map comes out and the bit with the reservoirs on it has clearly gone the way of all Ordnance Survey paper, and is somewhere else.
Would have looked at a Compass. But who needs a compass on Great Whernside, he said. Been up there loadsa times, he said. Know it like the back of my hand, he said.
Its not like we'd get lost (he said)
I will draw a veil over what happened over the next two hours, mainly because it will spoil Part Three, but it did involve a certain amount soggy peat, a big hill, a torch with four spare bulbs and a tin of sardines.