2.8 The devil in the dark
The route onwards is as obvious as a very obvious thing. What used to be a vague line of posts, possibly marking a parish boundary, has a sort of fency thing underfoot....So far so good. We pass doctors gate and begin to accelerate up the Devil's dyke, emulating Clive at his best.
("Emulates Clive at his best", New York Times )

I think the weather is gonna.....

It is starting to get darker. High above, the clouds must be expanding massively....or something. There is a little wind that plays around the tussocks (pardon?) and it is quite cooollllddd suddenly!
("Cold tussocks at their best", New York Times )
("Shuttupp", The Observer)
("lood gord!, The Gruniad)
It has been so warm so far, even in the rain, that the effect is rather like walking into a freezer and shutting the door. I was going to say but the little light does not go out but........
Far off in the cold distance, we can hear a strange noise and it isn't a wild cat growling either - we are mystified.
"Its a train" says Mark
"Tidal wave" says the ever imaginative J
"Big lorry" I guess still completely mystified
J goes and stands on the tallest bit of ground he can find...."Nope" He shouts to us "Its too dark and misty" He looks round in some surprise "Do you have any idea just how dark it really is? I mean its....REALLY DARK!!!"
I climb up beside him and look off to the east "Oh No! Oh bugger! Its the Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiind" and the rest is lost to the elements. The wind is all over us with a huge roar! A massive unseasonable easterly full of Siberian promise and the taste of ice in every breath!
"FimbulWinter!" I scream to the elements. Chaos!  I am repeatedly blown over. J is looking stunned and holding onto the ground. Mark is....Where is Mark? 20 feet away trying to control his inflated grotex, and loosing.
I can hear screams from all over the mountain. or perhaps its just me.... Nope I can hear genuine cries for help! The wind is confusing me. My sense of direction is shot. The compass is fine however and very comforting.  Rain hits us. But there is something wrong with it (apart from it being horizontal).
It is very very dark. I can hear cries for help over the roaring wind. Mist and frozen rain blow past. When the rain hits you it stops being wet and becomes clear ice..... This is serious. (How do you feel J? Serious, very serious) We look like we are wearing some kind of transparent armour.

But Whist what sylvan voice breaks the unholy din?!  In the icy blackness, there really are more real cries for help, really!

Look! An invisible sheep!

Suddenly I figure out where the shouts are from - There is a massive peat mire just waiting for anyone careless enough not to turn north west after the devil's dyke....Sure enough there is indeed some poor bugger right in the middle sunk almost to his armpits and screaming in real fear! His mates are all running 'round in circles, which simply doesn't help.
"Throw yourself forward" I shout and we race to help. "Oh Very helpful Mate" Murmurs Mark who does not yet know how much a peat bog sucks. "Look" I say, "we have to break the suction"."Speak for yourself" he replies.
We lay out the rucksacks and get the poor fellow to throw himself forward,  He is wet, cold exhausted. His lips are blue. and he is making bugger all sense. Exposure.
"Tea" says J "and insulation" Luckily its still warm, and it must be the only thing for miles that is! He starts to revive and gradually he looks better and so does our rescuee!
His mates are in a state. "We're lost" they sob "Lost!".
"Doomed" Mutters Mark.
We need to get everyone moving. "Right!" I shout, "Every one foll....." I am interrupted by J and Mark who shout "Nooooooooooooooooooooo"......