Walking Yorkshire - Ilkley Moor Today I was out and about on Ilkley Moor experiencing a most Yorkshire weather phenomena. Sometimes in these parts people might tell you that the weather is 'changeable'. This means you can set out in t-shirt and shorts, but take snow shoes just to be on the safe side. Today was very changeable, and none of the changes were for the better. You can't see the rain in this picture, but I can assure you it was there. It even looks bright and sunny, look, you can see my shadow, this is a ploy to get you to remove your hat. Seconds after doing so you will be pelted by horizontal hail propelled by rail gun. Those clouds are ten miles away, they are dropping sleet, the wind is so strong that the sleet still manages to hit me. I struggled up and over the moor to Twelve Apostles, on to Dick Hudson's then along to East Morton and back over the moor. The moor road here is a disgrace, we live in one of the most beautiful places you could wish to be, so what do car drivers use it as ? A rubbish tip. Take your bloody litter home you rabble, don't just bung it out of the window as you tear arse along. Perhaps slowing down a little would prevent scenes like this, mother and fawn lying dead a few feet from each other at the road side. I had two close calls whilst walking a couple of miles along the road, the first with a car full of teenage boys, the driver was looking at the passenger as they crested the hill in front of me. The second was one of those bloody huge Rangerovers. This is a dangerous road for pedestrians of all species. Flowering gorse on the moor, probably the high point of today's walk. On the way back, close to the radio station, I attempted to cross a section of man-eating bog and sank up my waist. This gave me quite a fright, but I managed to haul myself out and get back home. The last hour was miserable, a steady sleet had set in, I was freezing, I had soaked my gloves pulling myself out so couldn't keep my hands warm, why do I bother. We're strange folk us Tykes, I've been up on the moor on beautiful sunny summer's days and seen nary a soul, but today, with sub zero temperatures and high velocity hail, the moor was packed, there were queues at every stile. All together now............... "Tha's gonna catch thy death o' cold, death o' cold, On Ilkley Mooar baht'at."