NOËL COWARD had his own waspish thoughts on this as on other matters. “I like long walks," the playwright once said, "especially when they are taken by people who annoy me.”

Rather more to my liking are walks taken in the company of people I like, especially with a pub somewhere along the way.

For those who enjoy putting one muddy foot in front of the other, Yorkshire is the place to be. Walking can be the greatest thing, especially when the rain doesn't fall and your toes remain dry, and at least one of these conditions was fulfilled at the weekend.

We have been going to a bunk barn in Littondale in the Dales for years now, almost too many to recall. Some walks are wetter than wet, dire and damp, with sodden layers, squelching socks and drips down the back of the neck; then occasionally, something glorious happens.

The route our party took last Saturday started in Halton Gill on a grey and drizzling morning, a bit chilly, but nothing to complain about. We headed down the valley and then ascended the fell, climbing and puffing and panting until Yockenthwaite lay below us. By now the sun was out and the sky blue.

Once at the bottom, we walked beside by the river until we reached the churchyard at Hubberholme, where a horizontal gravestone made a perfect picnic table for some of us.

St Michael and All Angels is said to be one of the most historic and picturesque of all churches in Wharfedale. The author J.B. Priestley arranged for his ashes to be scattered in the churchyard; if you have to be scattered somewhere, this is a good spot.

After lunch we walked along the road for a while, then began the step ascent back towards Littondale. As we started the climb, an almost perfect rainbow began to span the valley bottom. By the time it had touched the other side, the sky beneath the iridescent arc had turned stormy dark.

On we climbed, enjoying the sunshine, until the rainbow delivered on the promise in the first part of its name. For ten minutes at the top we battled against bitter driving rain and hailstones (what category of fool does this for fun?) as we slid over the ground at our feet. Then the rain stopped, the sky turned blue again and the sun shone (ah, the sort of sodden fool who ends up seeing a sight such as this).

By now we were looking down on the village of Litton from such a steep vantage point that it was almost an aerial view. You can travel as far as you like, and I do like to, but there can be few prettier or more soul-lifting views than this, only available to those willing or able to put on their boots and walk.

We stumbled and slithered down the falling away hill until our stiffening legs took us into the Queen's Arms at Litton. Pints were bought and we sat outside, enjoying the beer, the chat and the way the late autumn sunshine burnished everything. Beer swallowed, two more miles had to be trod. We walked along the road, looking forward to tea and cake, and more cake.

Sometimes, but not often, you have to kid yourself that a walk has been enjoyable. Penyghent, we are talking about you on that frozen day last year when splinters of ice pierced our faces and the air was the coldest swallowed since the Ice Age. But the walk just done, that was one of the best.

 

• MILDLY alarming reports reach me of the anti-booze drug Nalmefene (how do they dream these names up?) This mind-controlling pill apparently promises to neutralise the initial pleasurable effects of alcohol.

For £3 a go, this pill will firm the backbone of those lacking will power when it comes to alcohol. Have one pint and pop a pill, and you won't want any more to drink. I have my own version: drink two pints and stop as you can't take an awful lot more.

Perhaps such drugs are necessary for some, but it's a depressing thought, smacking too much of mind-control and the like. And for the price of two of those pills you could buy a half-decent bottle of wine.