Cumbrian rain had kept many a walker awake at various points in the night, so we set off from Dufton hoping that the Pennines would do their usual trick and keep the other side dry.
As we crested the Backbone of England, we saw that our hopes had been fulfilled, in that it had stopped raining but, even in County Durham, the watershed had lived up to its name and usually placid meandering streams had become rivulets of speeding white (or, rather, brown) water.
True to form the sun came out at Low Force, and we walked to the hugely swollen High Force for a picturesque picnic with a loudly rumbling soundtrack. Very, very, loud it was too - but by the time we'd got there, we'd all almost run out of superlatives anyway!
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