I slept fitfully and was already awake when the alarm went off. We rose, dressed, and used the kettle in the room to make instant coffee, filling our thermos flask with it, before quietly letting ourselves out of the still somnolent house. We drove the few miles to the point that Johnny had said the track started and parked by the church. We shouldered our packs in the first grey light of the day and set off through a rickety gate along what we hoped was the right path.
For an hour or so the walking was fairly easy, the path was grassy under foot, and sloped gently upwards, heading towards a gap between two hills whose peaks remained covered by dense grey cloud. As we approached the hills, the path became steeper and rockier underfoot. The stones were slick with moss and slime where they protruded from the ground and our pace slowed as we picked our way between them. The hill tops remained stubbornly covered in cloud and it was obvious that unless the sun or wind intervened, we would soon be walking through a dank grey fog. We continued to climb steadily, not talking much but focusing on placing our feet carefully, a misstep here could easily result in a twisted ankle, or worse, and that would certainly not help our cause.
After we had been walking for about two hours, although it was hard to pinpoint our position given the limited visibility, after pouring over the map and trying to compare it with the terrain, we were just short of half way to our destination. Our progress was slower than we had hoped but in theory we could still make it to the cottage by lunch time, even if our pace remained the same.
I was feeling fine, strong, and full of energy, and Beth, long limbed and sure-footed as she was, seemed undeterred by the conditions. We eyed the lowering cloud through which it now seemed inevitable our journey would continue and, perhaps to give it a last chance to dissipate, we rested just below its base and shared a coffee from the flask. Having only one cup we took it in turns to sip the hot liquid and I was glad of its warmth and the companionship of the moment.
All too soon though, we shrugged ourselves back into our packs and after a few minutes of steady climbing found ourselves in the first swirling tendrils of mist. In the cloud it was noticeably colder and as we continued to climb the density of the fog increased. We could see very little of the landscape now, although mercifully the path itself remained distinct.
Gradually the way levelled out and it seemed that we had passed through the gap between the hills and were now walking across a plateau. Without the benefit of a gradient the ground became boggy underfoot and now any misstep resulted in a boot disappearing up to the ankle into a peaty pool of freezing water. Before long, our feet were soaking, and my previously buoyant spirits were dragged down by the dankness of the air and the numbness of my sodden feet as the cold seeped into my bones.
Now we were moving more slowly. Between the rocky protuberances which littered the path and the freezing boggy pools the going was treacherous and with hindsight an accident was inevitable and yet, when it happened, I was not really prepared. We were walking in single file with Beth leading when a rock on which she placed her foot proved unsteady. It tipped as she swung her weight over it and she was pitched forward and fell heavily, the sharp edge of another stone slamming into her side as she went down.
Even through the padding of her jacket I heard the sickening crack as her ribs took the full force of her descent. I crossed the few yards to where she lay, her face contorted with pain, my mind struggling to come to grips with the potential consequences of the situation. I stripped off my pack and knelt at Beth's side. She was conscious but the fall had winded her and at first, she was unable to speak. She had rolled off the jagged spike of rock and lay on the waterlogged ground her breathing shallow and her face drained of colour. I put my ear close to her mouth and listened carefully to her breathing, it sounded normal and my great fear, that she had fractured a rib and punctured a lung, receded.
Beth groaned and clutched her chest as she tried to lift herself.
"Just try and take a deep breath before you do anything else," I told her. Beth grimaced as she slowly drew a full breath.
"It's ok," she said, "Its painful but I don't think I've damaged my lungs." She tried to move again and failed to conceal a gasp of pain, "I might well have cracked a rib though," she said through clenched teeth, "but I need to get up, I'm getting soaked here."
On balance I knew she was right, even if she had broken a bone, no good would come of getting her clothes sodden. I gave her my arm and slowly she managed to get to her feet. The pallor of her complexion frightened me, and I held her, prepared to cushion a fall in case she lost consciousness. Beth was soaked to the skin. She had not been on the ground long but it was enough for the freezing, peaty water to penetrate all the layers of clothing that she wore. I could feel her trembling with a potentially lethal combination of cold and shock.
"Do you think you can walk?" I asked the key question.
"Yes, I think so," Beth said, without much conviction. She pressed a hand to her ribs and winced at the touch. "I may need to lean on you though, I'm not all that steady and I dare not risk another fall."
"Let's get going then," I said, "the sooner we get you warm, dry and in front of a doctor, the happier I'll be." I made to take Beth's arm, but she stopped me.
"We need to go on, "she said quietly. I had naturally assumed that we would turn round and head back the way we had come. "We must be at least three quarters of the way to Brother John's cottage," she said, "I'm not sure I'll make it all the way back, and at the speed I think I can walk it will be dark."
She was right of course, but the thought of pressing on to an unknown destination in the cloud was equally worrying to my mind. We could easily miss the cottage in the mirk, and then we would almost certainly be stranded in the hills overnight. I tried hard to persuade Beth to turn back but despite her injury she was adamant that we continue, and in the end, I gave in, consoling myself with the knowledge that Beth's intuition had not failed us in the past.
I pulled the flask of coffee from my pack and half-filled the cup. It was still piping hot and for that I was thankful. I offered the steaming brew to Beth, she looked as though she needed it. She smiled a rather wan smile, as she took the drink from my hand.
"If you fish around in the side pocket of my pack you'll find my hip flask," she said. Retrieving the small stainless-steel flask and guessing with lifted spirits, that it contained some of Beth's wonderful potion. I unscrewed the cap and poured a little into the cup. Beth drank the coffee with its infusion of magic and the colour began to return to her cheeks.
And so we set off again, this time at a snail's pace with Beth leaning on my arm, her free hand holding her ribs. The path remained the same as before, boggy and rock-strewn, treacherous underfoot, especially for Beth who seemed to struggle to balance properly. Several times I saved her from another fall and each time she gasped in pain as the unexpected movement jarred her injured ribs. This was so unlike the sure-footed Beth that I became increasingly worried. Very soon we would be forced to try and find somewhere drier than the boggy path to spend the night and in the fog I dare not leave her. Nor dare we stray far from the path so the task would be doubly difficult.
As the day wore on, Beth became more and more tired, we would move forwards for ten minutes or so and then rest for five. The way thankfully remained level for most of the afternoon but just after three o'clock, with no more than an hour left before the winter darkness began to close in, we started to climb gently. Although Beth found this harder going I was faintly encouraged, firstly because, from the map, the cottage should be somewhere on an upward slope at the other side of the plateau and secondly because I thought there would be more chance of finding somewhere less boggy if we were above the lowest point of the land, and I had by then resigned myself to spending the night in the open.
Not long after we started to climb, we rested. Beth leaned on me, her head bowed, with hardly the energy to speak. She was shivering uncontrollably and there was little I could do to warm her. Our flask of coffee was by then empty. I had wanted to keep some in reserve for the impending night but without it Beth would have long since been unable to continue. Now I was determined that we needed to seek shelter for the night. I opened my mouth to tell Beth that we needed to stop when she lifted her head.
"What's that?" She said, her face was ashen and I wondered whether she was delirious.
"What's what?" I answered.
"That smell," she lifted her face, sniffing the air like a dog on a scent. I took in a deep draft of the dank air through my nose. I got nothing, just the musty smell of the wet upland. I shook my head.
"No! Beth was insistent. And then, faintly, I could smell it too, the unmistakable reek of a peat fire. It could mean only one thing; we must be close to the cottage. We could not tell from which direction the smoke came, but I was sure we had not passed a building and logic said it must be close to the track. With renewed energy we started out again, still at our painfully slow pace, but now with growing hope.
The smell grew stronger as we inched our way forward up the slope. I knew we were close to our destination but as night drew in, the cloud was getting thicker, and the light was fading. Beth's brief surge of energy had dissipated and now she seemed barely conscious, putting one foot in front of another more like an automaton than a human being, leaning on me heavily so that our progress was impeded. And then, having threatened all day, the rain began. At first it seemed like an almost imperceptible thickening of the cloud, but soon the drizzle became a downpour. Our waterpoofs, sodden already, were no protection against the deluge. Within minutes I could feel the icy coldness against my skin as the water penetrated every layer that I wore.
How Beth kept moving at all, I will never know. Now we could hardly see where to put our feet and the path rapidly became a stream that filled our boots. I hardly felt it, my feet were already numb with cold. All I could do was place one foot in front of the other and take Beth's weight as she followed as though in a trance.
