As I mentioned in our walk over the Helvellyn ridge on the 14/7/2003, it is easy to blame the splendid weather and resulting extensive views towards the Dodds, with the clearly defined path seen to stretch towards Stybarrow Dodd for what happened on this walk, but at the end of the day I have only myself to blame!

We had originally planned to climb Great Gable from Seathwaite on our final walk, but having brought a print-out of a Harveys map of the Dodds (in case we were feeling so energetic that we wanted an extra walk on our day off), and not having "bagged" any peaks on Tuesday's walk at Buttermere, we made a last minute alteration to our schedule and decided to climb the Dodds instead (three, or four if we went to Clough Head!, peaks instead of one - no contest!!!).

Under normal circumstances, I would have read up on our route and looked at the map to familiarise myself beforehand, but all I had done in preparation for this one was skimming through a couple of guide books, and all I remembered was that I had read that the Dodds are confusing in mist. Well, guess what the weather was like when we got there?!

Not that this put us off, and neither did the fact that I had left my GPS behind, because we had seen the path - a clearly defined path - no problem, all we had to do was follow it from Sticks Pass over Stybarrow Dodd to Watson's Dodd and then to Great Dodd, where we would make a decision, based on visibility and how tired we were, whether to continue to Clough Head or simply turn round and follow the clearly defined path back to Sticks Pass. Simple!

Well, it started simply enough. We parked at Stanah again, and followed Sticks Pass as before, but this time the cloud was coming down all the time, and the visibility was soon very poor. Joining us along the route were half a dozen youngsters doing their Duke Of Edinburgh Award, and we commisserated with them for having to spend a night out in these conditions.

We walked along the path, and after passing a couple of small cairns, arrived at a much larger one. This appeared to be the highest point as far as we could see, which was not far, but we took it to be the summit of Stybarrow Dodd.

Now, if we had done even a little bit of research, we would have noticed the distinct absence of a bluish slate-like stone in the top of the cairn, and had we looked at our map a little more closely or, better still, got the compass out, we might have noticed that the clearly defined path does not actually go over the summit of Stybarrow Dodd. But it was the height of summer and we knew what we were doing (!), so we didn't.

From here, we walked and walked. The clearly defined path was no longer clearly defined, so all we could hope was that if we turned 180° when we got to the end, we would get back to where we started from. There was nothing of distinction to give us any clue where we were, and the visibility was so poor that there were no views, not even to the edges.

After what seemed a long walk, considering the distance we had seen there was between Stybarrow and Watson's Dodd, we decided it was time to consult the map. We still did not notice that the path bypassed Stybarrow Dodd's summit, but it did seem reasonable to assume we had bypassed Watsons Dodd's summit and were heading for Great Dodd. Not a problem, we would look for the little tarn on the left in that case, to confirm that we were where we thought we were.

Not very long afterwards, we arrived at a large cairn, and the mountain ended shortly after this. David sat down and ate his lunch in the pouring rain, while I tried to decide where we were. We seemed to have walked in a straight line from Sticks Pass, but we did not see a little tarn anywhere, let alone on our left. But then again, I reasoned, the visibility was so poor and the tarn so small that we may well have missed it.

I walked to the end, and there was no more mountain there. I could just about make out some other mountains across the gap, but they did not seem far enough away to make this Watson's Dodd (I conveniently forgot the part of my navigation books that tell you that it is easy to lose one's sense of distance is mist), so I came to the conclusion that this must be Great Dodd. It seemed funny that we had not had any noticable incline, but then again on these rounded peaks, that can be difficult to estimate, so I told myself and David, who had by now got up from the cairn and joined me, which meant I was no longer a hundred percent certain of which direction we had come from. I took David's picture at the cairn, and we consulted the map again.

A path led off in what appeared to be a north-westerly direction, assuming of course that we were still facing in the same direction as we arrived, and it felt as though we were - we could see the path we had arrived on (well, it was a path, and we had not seen any other paths, so it must be the one we arrived on!). We could of course have got the compass out and checked our bearing, but that would have been too simple - besides, this was the middle of July and we were not "really" lost.

So we took the path, following the theory that this must be the way to Clough Head and if we could find that, according to the map there was a Trig Point, which would be conclusive and it would then be easy to find our way back.

But the path began ascending quite steeply (for the Dodds anyway) and this did not seem to make sense according to the map. I suggested the best thing we could do was turn around and walk back the way we came, cut our losses and forget about today.

David was a little way from me by now, and he turned around and so did I. I shouted across to him to come back on the path, which was by now neither clear nor defined, so we would not lose it, and he shouted back that he was on the path and it was me that was losing it. We had now got two paths going different ways and no sign of the summit we came from. We agreed to follow my path, and before long arrived back at what we thought was the same cairn that we left (on reflection, I'm not so sure).

We took what we assumed to be the path we originally arrived on, and started walking back. After a while, I felt we should be getting near to the point where the path did indeed become clearly defined, but it remained very indistinct. "Do you remember this?", I asked. "No", said David. So I decided this was a good time to get my compass out. It said we were walking in a generally northerly direction, which was quite obviously wrong - we both knew that we were walking south, so we put the compass away! At the back of my mind I knew of course that the compass must be right, but as there did not seem to be anywhere else we could walk at that point in time, short of going back to the cairn that we did not know where it was, we might just as well continue walking until we found something that would give us a clue as to our whereabouts.

We passed a little tarn on our right, which did not seem to make any sense (!), and then we started climbing. Great - we must be back at Stybarrow Dodd. Now all we had to do was get over the summit and back down to Sticks Pass.

We got to the summit with no problem, but it did not look at all familiar. There was a huge cairn, which did not look like anything we had seen so far, and our clearly defined path was nowhere to be seen. I suggested we walk a circuit just below the summit and look for the path, but this met with no success whatsoever. I took a bearing as I had no idea where we had come from by now, and we started walking south, following the compass, in the hope of finding a path. We found no path, but soon arrived at a shelter cairn, which made even less sense. By now we realised we were completely lost. I studied the map in detail, with the rain pouring down around us, but it was obvious there was no shelter cairn on Stybarrow Dodd, so wherever we were, that was not it. I was beginning to wish I was looking at an Ordnance Survey map, as they are far more detailed when it comes to shelters and the like, but I was not, and our best policy now seemed to be to try to find a safe way down as soon as possible, and then worry about where we were when we got there.

At the same time, the mist seemed to be clearing a little, so the alternative was to sit down and hope the weather improved, but that did not seem very proactive, so I suggested walking to the edge, wherever that may be and see if was possible to see what was below, as I am fairly good at recognising lakes and outlines of fells and I thought I might see something that would tell me where we were. We did get to the edge, and looking down I was able to just about see a small valley with fields. I had expected to see either Thirlmere or Ullswater, and this threw me completely. Looking back, it was probably St John's in the Vale. Not recognising it, and not finding a path, we returned to our bearing to the north-east, where there was a path which although not clearly defined, was obviously in regular use, and although I realised it would probably bring us down on the Ullswater side, it appeared reasonable to assume it would lead us down safely to a valley, where we could then worry about getting back.

We walked over an area of rough stones (for the Dodds), and looking at pictures in guidebooks when we got home, it must have been Randerside, and eventually descended below the clouds towards a valley and some woods ahead.

Eventually, we reached a track, where a man stood looking at a map. Rather stupidly we asked, "Excuse me, do you know where you are?". "Yes, thank you", was the reply. "Would you mind telling us?", we asked. He looked at us a little strangely, and we explained that we had got lost on the Dodds and taken the first safe descent we could find. It turned out he was waiting for some people to come down too, and on hearing about the atrocious conditions up there realised that they must be having problems too.

He told us that we on the Old Coach Road, and that Dockray was ahead. He suggested that the best way back to the car now would be along the Old Coach Road, round Clough Head, and then back through St John's in the Vale to Stanah, which is what we did.

By now the cloud had lifted completely, and it was a glorious, sunny afternoon. As we walked along the Old Coach Road it seemed ridiculous that we could have ever gotten lost, and we were determined to return next time, properly equipped with maps and GPS to sort out the Dodds once and for all.