Into the Wasteland

I was totally wasted on my return from the top of Ilkley Moor. Armed with microspikes, I battled my way up the ice to the Cow and Calf and then it was a weary trudge in very thick and crunchy snow, which at least meant I could keep my feet dry. I was hoping for more intrepid people to have already carved a track over the top by now, like the one pictured here, but this only lasted a hundred yards or so before all that was left were a couple of sets of deep footprints. It was hard to decide whether it was easier to place my feet in the treads of those who had gone before, or just make new ones myself. Both were equally hard work. Occasionally, the crust of ice was thick enough to bear my weight but that invariably lasted just a few yards before I broke through. When I reached the Keighley Gate Road and was able to run again, I found that I'd lost my microspikes in the deep snow, but the ice on the road was crusty and actually quite grippy. I didn't have any problems getting back down. Naturally, I never met a soul on the tops and the light was fast fading by the time I finally encountered another human, down at White Wells. I'm not sure why I enjoy that experience of being so cut off from the rest of the world.