When Prince Charles and Princess Diana were married in 1981, the event was commemorated by a mountain-indicator set on Nine Standards Rigg by members of the local Fell Search Team.

That day, almost 20 years ago, a Bradfordian with the well-known local surname of Denby took me to the hilltop to perform the unveiling ceremony.

He had for years run a shoe shop at Kirkby Stephen and, knowing that I was editing the magazine Cumbria, as well as The Dalesman, he called to see me from time to time. I was offered a Land Rover lift to the ridge for the ceremony. To my shame, I agreed.

Still having a guilt complex, I take every opportunity to climb Nine Standards Rigg on foot. A few years ago, while following Wainwright's Coast to Coast Walk, I made a bold frontal attack from Kirkby Stephen, en route for the head of Swaledale.

When, on a recent sunny day, I felt the need for upland air, I turned the bonnet of my car to the Rigg and, let it be whispered, took an easy option by parking the car just off the road at Tailbrigg, between Nateby and Muker. I started walking at something over 1,600ft.

People have long decked the summits of our fells with cairns. The highest point on the Pennines was called Fiends' Fell until a Christian missionary planted a cross on the plateau. Henceforth, it was known as Cross Fell.

Gragareth, not far from Ingleton, has three "stone-men". There are others in upper Wensleydale. A cohort of petrified men stand on the flanks of Great Shunner Fell, looking down on the Buttertubs Pass.

On my recent excursion, I had Nine Standards to myself apart from a brief encounter with a solitary walker, who hailed from Minnesota, USA, and set off on the long walk a few days before. He had forgotten to pack a razor. I might have struck a match on his stubbly chin.

At the start of my walk, half a dozen pairs of lapwings put on an air display, with the birds climbing steeply and plunging erratically, all the while uttering their plaintive calls. Finding part of an egg shell, I hoped that at least one brood of lapwings had hatched out and would contribute to a depleting population of the bird species that is widely known in The Dales as "tewit".

A pair of wheatears twitched and uttered hard calls, not unlike the sound made by striking two stones together. I looked and listened in vain for the ring ouzel, our "mountain blackbird", a visitor to nest from Africa. At Tailbrigg, a pair of ouzels nested on a ledge in one of the potholes.

Beyond the limestone, and a moderately steep slope, lay peat as moist and dark brown as chocolate cake mix. Efforts have been made by authority to combat the popularity of the Coast to Coast Walk and spare the peatlands by varying the route at different times of the year. Fingerposts marked "Coast to Coast" are prominent features in a tree-less area.

The mountain indicator had not been vandalised and, with its help, I picked out the leonine form of Penyghent, at rather more than 20 miles. Tan Hill was a mere ten miles away. A smudge on the northern horizon was Criffel, in Scotland. The massive bulk of Criffel presides over the northern shore of Solway Firth.

Rather more than six miles away are Water Crag and Rogan's Seat, above Swaledale. In exceptionally clear conditions, it is said you might see both the west and east coasts from Water Crag.

When the Nine Standards came into view, they had an imposing backdrop in Mickle Fell, its high ground gleaming white with snow. In contrast was the vale, which had misted up. The effect was not unlike that of pictures I had seen of Kilimanjaro, rising from the plains of Central Africa.

I hastily counted the Standards. There were nine. The figure is variable, and some high-spirited folk like to add to the number, using stone which is almost as good as Lego for building purposes.

What I had taken from a distance to be half a cairn proved to be a substantial stone seat near a substantial stone table. I ignored them and chose to have a snack lunch on the lee side of a cairn, where it was sunny. In view was a succession of ridges and fells that were like waves in a tawny sea.

Many daft ideas have been put forward to account for the name Nine Standards. Years ago, it was believed they were built to scare off Scottish raiders by giving the impression that an army was encamped in the high ground.

My inclination is to connect Nine Standards with a northern saint, Ninian, who though usually associated with Scotland, is believed to have witnessed in these parts. Not far from Lady Anne Clifford's favourite castle, at Brougham, is a little church she restored. It is called Ninekirks, a name which may also be a link with saintly Ninian.

The footpath across Nine Standards Rigg is a permissive one, established with the co-operation of landowners. Just off the Coast to Coast route, and topped by a cairn of modest height, is White Mossy Hill, another viewpoint in excess of 2,000 feet and therefore qualifying to be called a mountain. The piping of a pair of golden plover came from this direction. They were a change from the raucous voices of Pennine crows.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.