‘…there marched into view a great empty sweep of moorland, an undulating plain which rolled away into steeper, desolate and rocky hills, with still higher peaks standing distantly behind them. The prevailing colours were drab, but intricately varied; pale, bleached straw of Flying Bent on damper ground, red-brown of Heather and rusty dead Bracken in drier places, and a great deal of steely grey or even white of exposed granite rock. It was a strangely unfamiliar scene, with a tapestry of tone quite different from the greener fells of Lakeland and the
