And when I went cloudbusting I saw this

Brown Willy from Butters Tor

At first the clouds hung sullenly overhead without a break and then they tore open and the ruined farmhouse among the marshes beneath Brown Willy was lit by the sun and I, and I alone, was there to capture it.

And now as darkness descends I wonder what it would be like to be there now listening to the birds call across the marshy pools that are the source of the De Lank River, no lights as we would be as remote as you can be within Cornwall. And the long walk back to the car, up the cairned slopes of Brown Willy each the burial place of a Cornish King and then onto Rough Tor with its stone circles, meidieval chapel and the ghost of Charlotte Dymonde.