A bird of prey soars where bronze-age farmers toiled

Moscar, Derbyshire The view from here is one of the best in the Peak: west is Win Hill and Mam Tor; to the right, the broad, bleak weight of Kinder Scout; at my back, the crisp blocks of Crow Chin set against the gathering darkness

At Moscar Flats, I faced a dichotomy: to the north, icy blue skies; to the south, roiling black clouds. I chose south, following a rough track from Cutthroat Bridge before climbing the steep bank to Hordron Edge, all the while watching a raven hanging off the wind, acrobatically flipping onto its back and then flipping back again, before letting itself slide out of view as I reached the crest. The view from here is comfortably one of the best in the Peak: looking west is Win Hill and behind it Mam Tor, buried today in snow so deep that it seemed like the white head of Himavant himself. To the right, the broad, bleak weight of Kinder Scout; at my back, the crisp blocks of Crow Chin set against the gathering darkness.

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