In the car park we change into our hiking gear. I’m amazed that my boots still fit me as they only get an outing now once a year on our rare days of snow at home. Greg must have had to venture into the depths of the loft to dig the rucksacks out, too. They were probably behind the cot the kids used to sleep in that I can’t bear to part with, and the Christmas decorations which needed binning years ago.

‘This is a really great idea,’ I say. ‘Thank you.’

The valley is also home to the deepest lake in England – Wast Water – and the scree-slopes climb steeply from its edges, mirrored perfectly in the still surface of this three-mile stretch of water.

Greg takes my hand and we set off at a steady pace, walking up through the fields, across trickling brooks, scattering skittish sheep as we go. As we start to climb higher, the peaty waters of Wast Water shimmer below us in the midday sunshine. Even this bit’s steeper than it looks. As a novice, my breathing’s already hard and laboured, but I’m determined to do this. This has to be fabulous training for the Andes and I’m really grateful to Greg for bringing me up here.

‘All right?’ he asks.

I nod in lieu of speaking and we continue higher. Even my husband is panting now. The rough stone path steepens and we climb in silence, only the sound of our breathing disturbing the air. The crystal-clear waters of Lingmell Gill cascade alongside the rocky trail. We splash across the gill and climb steadily up Brown Tongue. Ahead we can see the towering peaks of Pikes Crag and Scafell Crag, joined by the impressive col ridge of Mickledore.

We pause and look down the valley. My lungs are crying out for release and I think that if I slipped now, then surely I would slither all the way down to the bottomless pit of Wast Water with nothing to stop my fall.

We press on to the summit. My thighs are burning with the exertion and we reach a steep gully known as Lord’s Rake. The rough scree grabs at my feet, making them slip and slide as we scramble slowly upwards. From the top we stop to catch our breath. Mine is hot and ragged in my chest. The view from here is stupendous. The mighty Wast Water looks like nothing more threatening than a large blue puddle.

The terrain is rough and boulder-strewn now, and the clouds come down to meet us, but I feel a spring in my step as I can see that we’ve nearly reached our goal.