I only discovered the main bridle-path down the Beacon last year and it’s still a thrill to run down, although today it was slippery enough for me to recall passages from Richard Askwith’s earlier book, Feet in the Clouds about the completely balmy sport of fell running. [...]
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Cliff said that they were out in the worst part of the storm and that the weather was ‘so bad’ that they were just slipping everywhere in the mud while being inundated with sheets of water. In the pitch dark. [...] When we turned to the East towards Firle Beacon at the top of the hill, I finally emerged from Cliff’s lea and the full force of the wind hit me. It was so strong that it was actually difficult to breathe and when it started to hail, ten minutes later, it was like needles stinging the side of my face. [...] |
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