As the years tick by, walking gets harder. Not in the physical sense, although the right knee is a bit stiff now and I do tend to reach the pub a bit earlier these days. No, the challenge is in finding the time to get out there. Walking was previously a spontaneous, near-constant pastime, with few of life's other chores getting in the way.

Our trip to Scotland had by necessity been fluid in the planning. As always, we'd purchased our train tickets as far in advance as possible to benefit from the cheapest available fares. But with various distractions of the 'day job' and a house move to prepare, we left the finer details to just a few nights before.

Black Combe is a lonely outpost, tucked away in the southwest corner of the Lake District. No other fell reaches 600m before you reach Harter Fell, nearly 17km away. This isolation has its advantages. William Wordsworth described the views from Black Combe as "the amplest range of unobstructed prospect may be seen that British ground commands".