A desperate attempt to keep my feet dry in the Peak District.

It was 7th April, 2012. Following a 5 mile walk around the Chatsworth Estate the day before, my walking boots were rubbing my ankle badly. For Saturday's walk in the Peak District I decided to wear my only other pair of shoes – my beloved Nike trainers.

It had snowed the day before in the mountains, but that was no problem 'cos I had just sprayed my trainers with a good waterproof spray and covered my socks with plastic bags. I was going to have lovely dry feet during our Peak District walk.

The walk - led by Duncan - was to be 10 miles long, via Snake Inn, Seal Stones, Seal Edge, Fairbrook Naze, Black Ashop Edge, Ashop Head and back via Snake Path to Snake Inn. We met everyone in the Birchin Clough Car Park on the A57, just past Snake Inn.

Crossing the road from the car park, we walked into the woods. I ran enthusiastically down my first hill, but the hill was steeper than I thought and my feet left the ground. I practised my superwoman dive - which must have looked impressive from behind - and landed face down on the grass at the bottom of the hill. From behind I heard smothered giggles, and a courteous, “Are you all right Gill?” My feet were still dry.

A few minutes later, we reached a raging river. Duncan walked straight across as if he was Jesus parting the waves, and beckoned for us to follow. Jill and I looked at each other, took off our shoes and socks, threw them across the river to the other side, and waded in barefooted. However carefully I placed my feet on the rocks I still slipped, but reached the safe arm of Duncan. With a sigh of relief, I wiped my feet, put my socks and trainers back on, and continued up the mountain. My feet were still dry.

The Group on the PeakWorryingly, the soles of my trainers gave me little grip in the snow and mud, and I knew that I would have a 10 mile struggle. Carefully trying to avoid the rocks and sludge, I soldiered on up my first mountain. The fact that I had the wrong shoes on plus no experience of mountain walking was the least of my worries. My feet were still dry.

I reached the summit at 2000ft and felt quite pleased with myself. Okay - I was last the one to reach the top - but my feet were still dry.

The recent snow had partly melted and was deceiving. Suddenly, I trod on a layer of snow, my right leg disappeared into the sludge and I was stuck standing on one leg. The mud sucked my shoe and sock downwards and when I pulled my foot out of the mud there was no trainer and no sock attached to it. To stop myself from falling I put my left foot into the next bit of snow. Standing there like a stork on one foot, I forgot which hole my trainer had disappeared into. Lynne came to my rescue: using a grass stick, she dug deep into several snow and mud holes and after several attempts she found my trainer. Walking ten miles on one leg was not my idea of a good time.

But the worse of it was that my right foot was now soaking wet; only my left foot was still dry.

On the way down the ridge we encountered streaming water. In my desperate attempt to keep my left foot dry, I balanced on my right foot and supported myself by placing my left hand on the nearest rock. My hand landed on something very nasty! From the sheer shock of it, I lost balance and fell with both feet into a huge puddle of water!

MY ATTEMPT TO KEEP MY FEET DRY UNTIL THE END WAS A FAILURE!

Gill Light, April 2012