Woefully wet

It's difficult to convey the unremitting awfulness of our 8.5-mile walk today.

The summary in our North York Moors book was very inviting, following the scarp of Reasty Bank for a mile or two, with views over scenic Harwood Dale, then a descent to the River Derwent, whose bank was to be followed for a couple of miles..

Finally, lanes and tracks would take us through the enticingly named Whisper Dales, returning us to our starting point.

First of all, the weather forecast, which promised a bright morning after a dampish start didn't actually work out.

Mist obscured much of Harwood Dale as we tramped along the edge of Broxa Forest, but it wasn't really unpleasant - it kept us refreshed.

The descent to the Derwent was a trial, however, as we squelched through a muddy morass of a path that dropped us about 300 feet in the course of a quarter of a mile.

The route beside the river through Langdale varied between soggy and usefully firm over the course of two miles, but the pervading gloom robbed the walk of the charm it must hold in sunny weather.

We had to pass through a couple of fields, only to find that the exit from one stile was obstructed by cattle, several of which were crowned with horns.

I persuaded the most inquisitive of the beasts to retreat far enough for us to pass, and we trod gingerly around the edge of the field, watching the cattle for any signs of aggressive intent.

In a succeeding field, we suddenly found ourselves calf deep in the most appalling mud, which we suspected might have been augmented by the digestive tracts of local cattle.

Maureen's misery was completed when she slipped and coated a high proportion of her clothes in the suspect substance.

At Broxa Banks, we were directed to climb 200ft through soggy heather, but we rebelled at that and stuck to the minor road for a mile, taking the opportunity to have lunch while perched on a North Riding County Council grit bin.

Progress did become much easier for a time, although one lane, remarkably, shared its passage with a stream.

Finally, our guide advised us to "join a gravel track that climbs more steeply into forest." Well yes, that's accurate as far as it goes, but the reality is that an extreme gradient is maintained for a good half-mile, so we were very pleased to complete this, and be re-united with our car.

Waterproofs were used to protect the car's upholstery as we drove back, and on our return, I used a hosepipe to remove the worst of the mud from our socks and boots.

Maureen was soon hard at work scraping sticky layers of evidence of our muddy passage from our clothes. To ensure that the washing machine was not clogged with silt, trousers were first rinsed in the bath, which gained an impressive coating of grit and mud.

I washed the socks, with six rinses of clean water before actually starting the main task, which was followed by two further rinses.

We don't usually open a bottle on Mondays, but on this occasion, we decided we deserved a stiff gin and tonic.