This morning the air brings the distinct smell of cut grass. The birds have turned up their dawn chorus songs these last few days and are welcoming the mornings with a vigour that is admirable.
Alt text tells me this week’s photo is ‘two women taking a selfie in front of a cow’. I say it is my sister and I on a country walk encouraging a cow to be in our photo after we have told it how beautiful we think it is.
I have been reminded about a couple of things on recent walks:
Number one: Being dehydrated is not good for me. I often talk to the creatures I see on my walks, but when I was dehydrated recently I became judgemental and called a squirrel naughty and told a sheep it looked like a badger. My sister recounts school days where one orange squash drink and maybe a metallic sip from the water fountain were her drinks for the day. How much better we are at hydrating now. I know I feel much better when I am properly hydrated, and I am definitely more conversational with the wildlife (and indeed humans) as a result.
Number two: If you want to climb mountains it’s a good idea to practise by walking some hills! I have not included enough inclines in my Snowdon training and it is going to be important to rectify this ahead of September so that I can hold a conversation as I climb and don’t feel completely heavy-legged when things are steep. I had kept my focus on brisk minutes and increasing the length of walk whilst neglecting the uphill part. On reflection I was finding a comfortable sense of achievement in my improved walking fitness on the flat and forgetting to challenge myself.
The Great Orme and Moel Famau give me two good places to practice my hill walking. Pleasingly on a recent adventure with my sister I was able to be pretty good about climbing the wrong hill and then going down it and climbing the right one! My sense of direction is not very well tuned and the fact that I thought I had once climbed The Great Orme by starting at a particular point in Happy Valley had me confidently telling Katie which path we needed to take. It was only when we got to the top and noticed The Orme was on our right and not under our feet that I realised I was wrong. Down we went and off we set on the proper path. I got my steps in that day. And I also enjoyed walking with her up Moel Famau on a sunny day and am glad she said let’s do the steep route because it felt like another good adventure.
On a more sedentary day recently I set off to meet some friends in Costa. It was one I hadn’t been to before so I looked it up the night before and when I got in my car thought I had pressed the right button to take me to it. I thought I sort of knew where it was so when my directions seemed to be taking me the wrong way I pressed the button and stated, drive to Costa and a branch a mile away was suggested which seemed about right. Wrong! It was an express shop in a garage! I realised taking a stop and a breath and a proper look at the map was beneficial so I did just that and worked it out from there. I wouldn’t be without my sat nav, but I think I can also help myself by looking at the maps properly before setting off. I was still on time because I always leave early for things!
There was a lovely moment when I got out of my car and saw someone smiling at me. I momentarily thought I knew them so smiled back before realising they were a stranger to me. We each smiled at one another again and this encouraged me to go and speak to them. I explained that I was feeling lost and they shared that they were looking for a friend and they too weren’t entirely sure they were in the right place. It felt good to have a shared experience – an unexpected mini connection with someone. It’s good to talk.
I have chosen ‘Walking to Moel Arthur’ from my first collection ‘Magnifying Glass’ to read because it frames a moment in time when walking in the hills…
Walking to Moel Arthur
We packed the rucksack
with more than tissues and water
tied our boots, checked the laces.
On the way up
we stopped looking at our watches
let time surround us.
But at lunchtime
I worried that if I sat down
I wouldn’t get up;
where we were going seemed so far.
The sun, diluted and dipping,
threatened to leave our muscles cold.
We did not really speak
as we ate our separate lunches,
mine seemed bland and I didn’t ask about yours.
I only sipped my water
as I studied the path ahead;
narrowing and bending,
hiding its end.
I couldn’t tell if we were halfway to our halfway.
I wanted to read your mind,
were you for giving up?
I wanted to ask you,
If we turn back, will we ever come here again?
Sue Finch 