From car to twilight fresh ground as peat stained earth rolls beneath my feet. No conveyor, heaving breath and feet ploughing up ancient long forgotten forest. Furze bound as I turn to track and startle cattle that move on to chew and shelter.
Blackslade passed, the gentle rise to wittaburrow's scattered stones laying where three thousand years could not move them; laid by men; now interred.
The moorland sunset clear and crisp. Clear. Tors and hills presented for skyline muster, my inspection: my moor. God given, God thanked I run on through settlements where once my ancestors had farmed, a child in the long grass playing in the depths of imagination, my grandfathers forefather.
Beyond lies bog, it was bog then and is now. Bracken covers hillward slopes as I press against them, digging in. Bracken brown and beaten by summers sun now receding to autumn gold.
I rise atop Pill Tor with Rippon rising to my Eastern flank, noble, great yet unvisited in her loneliest moments.
Boyond the ponies happy to roam, wild. The pace quickens my heart beating faster and legs workingharderfasterstronger beyond my normal thresholds....... ALIVE!
I reach the car and think, there was a chill in the air tonight.