A short story of my little adventure yesterday.
It starts fine my run round Midgely Moor. I feel good and I’m running well. I’m alone on the moors and I’m enjoying it. I follow the route up and over High Brown Knoll, down to Warley Moor Reservoir and up the bog following the fence. Then it all goes wrong, very wrong. I climb over the stile and head for the stones at the top of the moor. Except that today I can’t see them because the fog has descended on the moor and the layer of grey mist is all there is here. I think I’m following the right path, I see some stones and head for them believing I am on the right path. But I’m not. I walk around the moors for 5 long miles through ankle deep water and knee high tussocks getting more lost and confused with each step. I hear voices but cannot see anyone. Are these the voices of the dead who got lost on these moors and come out when the fog hides them? I pass the stones again and realise I am alone on the moors, lost in a blanket of fog with only the voices of the dead calling out to me. I keep seeing a path only to get close and realise it’s just grass of a different colour. Is this it I wonder? Is this where my life ends alone on the moors, exhausted, confused, scared. I pass the stones again and head in a straight line, it’s my only hope of getting off the moor. I come out of the fog and I can see where I am as the air clears around me. In the distance I can see a path, this is much clearer than the others. I head over the moor and finally get to the path. I can get home now back to the warmth and safety of my home and away from the moor that wants to eat me up.