This morning I made the hour-long climb up to the top of Skipton Moor in complete darkness. This is the second time I’ve done this, but unlike last time I could not see the lights of the town receding from view as I climbed. Instead there was nothing, because a dense fog had set in. This kind of weather is wonderful for photography, but terrible for navigation. I know my way around this place like the back of my hand, but it took longer than usual for me to spot the familiar trig point.
Isolated from its surroundings by the dense fog, this small stone was like a beacon for me, piercing through the haze to show me the way to the summit. Once up there I was completely encompassed by fog, unable to see further than about 5 meters ahead of me. Eventually some of it cleared, exposing the valley below, still blanketed in cloud.
The fog obscures most of the landscape, but leaves just enough uncovered to give a sense of form. The hills look like giant creatures emerging for air from a sea of white cloud. It is hard to describe how breathtaking this sight was, with the town so familiar to me completely hidden by clouds, and this image can only show a small fragment of that wonder.
Eventually the sun rose, forming a pillar of light that shot up through the sky, while the sleepy landscape below still lay under its blanket of white.
With the sun up it was time for me to pack up and return. This was a truly magical experience that not many people will have had this morning. For an hour, in that fog, it felt like I was the only person in the world, watching an awe-inspiring scene unfold just for me. Creating can be stressful, especially when I have so many other commitments to juggle, but times like these make it all worth it.