Moughton Scar

I had an excursion set to Crummackdale for today, having planned a walk in the Dales with E. We had to think hard about whether to still go ahead, especially in light of the unwanted hordes of visitors to the Lakes and the Dales over the weekend. But this walk was in a very quiet corner of Ingleborough and I knew we could park discreetly and avoid contact with anyone. We made the decision to go ahead. As it turned out, we only caught sight of a handful of people all day, all of those from some distance.
 
We felt guilty at being rewarded with the most incredibly beautiful light. I still can't quite pin down what it is that makes a day such as this so perfect for photography but it must be something to do with the moisture content of the air. A little hazy but not too hazy. A sweet spot of softness. 

It was a day for walking slowly and feeling the warmth of the sun on the skin. Occasionally, just occasionally, for a few minutes, it was possible to forget about the alternative Coronaverse we've all entered.

Back home, we listened, of course, to BJ's message to the country. Give him his due, he got the tone right. It was clear and concise. He stepped up to the mark. I suppose the upside of generally being a buffoon is that when you do become deadly serious for once, people will sit up and take notice. 

We've been in the shit for weeks. The true reality of just how deep we're in the shit came home tonight.