Tonight my late night walk with Robbie has reminded me that the Craven Dales are sometimes at their best when the wind is in the east and the cold bites at you. This is a night when silence and solitude can be easily found; even the sheep have hunkered down as sleet floats on the wind across the valley bottoms.
I stand for a moment and listen, as the nights silence is broken by a distant and o so soft whistle from a diesel locomotive. This lonely whistle only heightens the silence that returns. However this is not a night for loitering as the temperature drops close to Zero Celsius and on nearby hills snow settles.