A true model of planning and execution with only one tiny, tiny flaw - a sure sign of perfection. A cool evening with patches of frost and ice to set off up Sharpitor. Onwards and over Lether before heading down to the wall. To the track and cist. Along the leat and out to the open moor. To spot the Indian's head and find a very sheltered spot for a cuppa by the aqueduct. Up on to Black where the logan stone rocked. Over the road to Leedon and back to the cars as the stars came out. To the Burrator where a Christmas party was in full swing - always, always something new.