By: Blonde Two
Yesterday Blonde One and I went on another Dartmoor adventure. We knew that it was going to be interesting from the forecast but as we arrived at the car park, the weather gods did their very best to make sure we had a clear understanding of the situation by launching very fast, very small ice cannonballs all around us.
We very nearly bowed in obedience to these wild divinities but, once the hail storm was over, decided that bravery was more the Blonde “thing” and set off up the track (as it turned out, not our favourite track ever).
I was wearing my lovely new Paramo jacket (other jackets are available and probably better for your bank balance). As it turned out, the gods had been right about staying in the car, the elements moved across the sky in a kind of stripy pattern. First biting winds and sunshine, then strong gusts riddled with painful hail stones – over and over again. You couldn’t face into the hail without receiving the most painful exfoliation treatment ever. We tried huddling behind gorse bushes and at one point both Blondes had to sit in a convenient hole to avoid being blown over.
I am pleased to report that, unlike the Dartmoor microclimate, my jacket’s performance was exemplary. It kept me dry and warm and (I feel this is the sign of a perfect coat) I didn’t want to take it off when I got home.