The thought of putting my soaked, icy-cold waterproofs back on in the dark at the bottom of Scafell Pike still makes me recoil.
I had been standing on the edge of the lake for ten minutes. If I didn’t get in soon, it was going to be too dark. I knew I’d regret not going in. I was frustrated with myself. I pushed my sweaty hair away from my face and balled my fists. I was going to do this.
After extracting myself from my soaking waterproofs and boots, and spreading my waterproof trousers out along the sill and weighing them down with a rock, I peered out of the misted window. Clouds rolled through the lonely valley and the grass glistened in the rain.