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I'm about to set off for West Cumbria. We've had a team of people from Inside Out living and working there since the heavens opened last week. I'm going to see the clean up for myself as we put the finishing touches to a Floods Special this coming Monday.

But as I head West it feels a bit like déja vu.

I've had plenty of enjoyable trips driving over the tops of the Pennines into Cumbria.
But today's journey fills me with the same trepidation about what I'd find as when I climbed up to Hartside Café back in 2001.

As I came over the summit from I was confronted with an eerie sight. It was the height of the and as far the eye could see there were plumes of smoke rising lazily into the air. There were so many of them dotted about the plains below it was as if I'd slipped back through the centuries and was witnessing a massacre. Every village seemed to have been pillaged.

At the time I was a reporter on Look North and I'd seen close-up the industrial-scale destruction of livestock but nothing had prepared me for the sadness that descended as the countless lines of smoke rose skyward.

Eight years on and it's the same journey westward. The calming voice of the satnav carries me over Hartside once more but I'm nervous about what lies ahead. Quite why I'm using satellite navigation I don't know - after all so many bridges are down or unusable I'll be following yellow diversion signs before long.

tells its own story. But what will I find a week after the waters came crashing down from the fells? I'll update this blog tonight but I am pretty sure that as with foot and mouth, the TV images can give you an insight but can never quite deliver the full impact of seeing it for yourself.

Update - Saturday November 28: What I saw when I got there.

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