Undaunted despite the weather

It’s early July and we’ve had yet another wet weekend. The bad weather seems unrelenting this year. OK, we had some occasional good weeks earlier on – one in March, a couple in May/early June, maybe – but, apart from these it’s been cloud and rain all the way. The BBC website is now telling all who want to be further depressed that the 2nd quarter of 2012 has been the wettest since records began in 1910.

Yorkshire folk laugh in the face of bad weather

Despite this I headed out into the Yorkshire Dales on Sunday. I just couldn’t spend both days of a hard-earned weekend huddled indoors. And I wasn’t alone. Yorkshire folk, it appears, laugh in the face of rain and clouds and wind. The Dales are just too gorgeous to be left there on their own, lonely, unloved, not enjoyed. It seems there are plenty of hardy people here who think the same; not as many as on a sunny day, of course, and arguably that’s a good thing.

Wrong clothing

Billy Connolly once said, “I hate all those weathermen, too, who tell you that rain is bad weather. There’s no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong clothing, so get yourself a sexy raincoat and live a little”. Well, there were plenty of people living a little this weekend. Rain jackets, waterproof trousers, covered backpacks, gaiters, were all the order of the day and the wearers all seemed to be enjoying themselves. In fact, there’s more of a spirit of camaraderie on the fells. Fellow walkers pass with a wry smile, a cheery “Hello” and some happy comment about the conditions. We’ve all made the effort, we’re in this together, the fair-weather walkers are all hiding, is the implied message.

“To the victor goes the spoils”

The scenery hadn’t changed, it’s still wonderful. Yet walking in the rain produces a particular feeling, in me at least. There’s a much greater sense of achievement after a hard week in the office. I have forced myself into the fresh air, battled the elements, not let the rain beat me. The endorphin buzz generated by the vigorous exercise is greater somehow.

And, perhaps best of all, I know there’s a hot chocolate and home made cake waiting for me in a warm, cosy, cafe at journey’s end. “To the victor goes the spoils”.

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