After another thirty minutes, I remembered that the whole point of passing the park visitor centre on my final stretch was to use the bathroom, fill up my water bottles and grab a drink if the café was still open (it wouldn’t be; it was nearly six). Cursing, close to tears again, I readjusted course and soon hit one of the main paths that would take me to the visitor centre.

Another hour of what can only be described as sheer torture later (interrupted by a short stop in the visitor centre toilets, and a longing gaze through the café window) I reached the designated clearing.

As soon as the tent was up on a reasonably flat spot, I dumped my pack on the grass and stripped off my coat, leggings, shoes and socks to reveal thighs chafed red from walking miles in damp trousers and blisters so huge it looked as though I had six toes. My ankle was slightly swollen, and still tender to the touch, but I hoped that a decent night’s sleep would be enough to remedy it.

My T-shirt had dried due to my body heat, but it stank of sweaty panic, so after tugging my hair out of its ponytail I also ditched that, enjoying the soft breeze against my skin, sucking in a deep breath of the zingy air that always follows a summer storm as I held out my arms, closed my eyes and embraced the overwhelming relief that I had made it.

I couldn’t wait to light a campfire, brew some tea, open up my tub of cheese and crackers, sit back and bask in my success, along with the lingering evening warmth.

The original plan had been to try to start a fire the wild way, with tinder and friction. That was now clearly not going to happen – especially as I had to wade deep into the undergrowth to find wood that had escaped the rain. I cleared an area of bare earth to ensure no risk of vegetation catching alight and made a pile of sticks, as seen on the survival videos. I then added some cotton balls rolled in Vaseline, struck a couple of matches and hey presto, only a few more tries and I had a roaring fire.

The original plan had also included getting dressed in a jumper and clean leggings, but it was still hot, I was fully embracing the back-to-nature vibes, and it suited my triumphant, unfettered mood to spread out my coat and sit back in my bra and knickers while I waited for the tea to boil, and for my skin to thoroughly dry out.

It was in this filthy, sweaty, semi-wild state, scarfing a wedge of extra-strong Cheddar while I waited for the tea to cool, the deepening dusk casting shadows from the fire that twisted and danced across the clearing, that a face appeared in the treeline opposite me.