A wet weekend on the moor

Tuesday, 15 September 2026

The forecast said showers. It rained without pause for thirty hours, the kind of rain that finds every seam. By the second afternoon everything I owned was some shade of damp.

What saved the trip was keeping one set of clothes dry in a sealed bag and only putting them on inside the tent at night. Walking wet is fine; sleeping wet is how a miserable trip becomes a dangerous one.

I came home with a new respect for a cheap dry bag and a packet of firelighters that lit a stove in wind that killed three matches.