Don't you love weather forecasts? The Met office you'd assume would be a cut above the average US based site so when their site said dry, misty and 20mph gusts I thought I'd go get the post Silverstone cotton wool blown out of my head. The reality was heavy horizontal rain propelled by 60mph gusts and near zero visibility.

Anyway, that was at the top, the unexpectedness started when I turned into the car park with a bike on the car roof to be confronted by a barrier to stop campers and caravans parking there. After almost biting the steering wheel stopping in a hurry, I stepped out to remove the bike into a six inch deep puddle. So, driving trainers waterlogged and the prospect of driving home in my boots on the agenda for later.

Next up is getting splattered by the fresh deposits left on the road by those ever so cute highland cattlle when cycling to the start of the climb. There's no way to avoid verge to verge cow pats on a bike and it was so recently laid that it still felt warm on my face.

The bike was duly chained up and the walk began in earnest. It might be opportune at this point to mention my total inability to point myself in the right direction and head there in a straight line. To illustrate the point, I got lost in the Silverstone campsite and had to phone my son to come find me. So after having read the walk description, downloaded the route to my gps and studied the map carefully I then proceeded to do the walk in reverse. Slogging up the "easy" grassy descent isn't much fun but I got there eventually having missed the excitement of the scrambles. But more of that later.

The path near the summit is precipitous and well worn, so I was grateful that the 60mph gusts were blowing me back from the edge and the horizontal rain was generally in my back. You've obviously worked out, as I did, that I was going to cop in in the face on the way back down but I was out for a breath of fresh air after all.

Lunch was consumed on the leeward side of the summit between showers and I started off down the path I should have come up.

So to the scramble. I slid down it on my ass ensuring three points of contact all the way. Slippery but not scary as the drop's considerably less than has been suggested. Maybe coming down it is easier than going up? Nah! I scrambled up and back down again just to prove the point. The North Face of the Eiger it isn't.

The rest was uneventfull. No stunning pictures of the scenery as there was none. Only low clouds, driving rain and 30yard visibility. Back at the car I reflected on the day and realzed that in spite of everything, there's nothing else I'd rather have been doing.