I SAT on Hay Tor looking at the thick mist that had covered the South Devon lowland and distant Channel.

The quaking whiteness was eerie. Haytor Vale and the lower car park had vanished. Wisps of mist ghosted across Haytor Down.

It was like an airliner pilot's vision of the lost world from high altitude. Behind me Saddle Tor was a mountain top surrounded by cloud.

Hound Tor, across the invisible valley, had the mystery of an Alpine peak.

The mist rolled and shifted in slow motion and the sun slowly emerged from it to turn the eastern edge to gold.

Suddenly I had the feeling I was the last person on the planet. It was scary. I mean, who would open the off-licence that evening, and where would I get my fish and chips?

OK, I enjoy solitude and my solo hikes, but I'm not a hermit, happy to commune with nature to the exclusion of everything else.

If we are one with nature in spirit that's enough. Separating ourselves from humanity on a permanent basis would be self-defeating and boring.

Human love and warmth are great, just like the chip shop smell at the end of a day on the moors.

For me solitude is an occasional necessity but not an end in itself.

Apart from the family, though, my little she cat would never forgive me if I was absent for long, but that morning I was on an 'island' in the sky — or so it seemed, and I was alone.

No birds flew past, no farm animals cried. Only the mist and I were alive. Yet, paradoxically, I felt closer to my own kind than I had for ages.

I thought about love and its nuances. It can hit two people like a blinding light, to the exclusion of everything else.

On the other hand I'm frequently celebrating the beauty of nature and the universe, and still stand looking up at the sky on a clear night.

Soon the sun was higher. The mist around the tor was thinning and the white 'carpet' between me and the bottom of the sky had lost its 'firmness'.

It lay in horizontal bands in the valleys as the countryside materialised like a landscape under tissue paper. Then the Widecombe Road appeared and I saw and heard the first car of the day.

The mist had faded and the Teign estuary was holding the sun.

Behind me white reefs lingered in Houndtor Valley. The sky was blue and the air cold. It was a beautiful day and 'morning had broken like the first morning'.

What a pity Eve didn't show up to complete things. I really fancied turning over a new leaf — after receiving a good eating apple.