I miss the hills. Didn’t realise how much I miss the hills till I couldn’t visit them anymore due to an enforced break.
There I was standing on the edge of a cliff on the far northern tip of the beautiful Isle of Skye in the beautiful North Highlands gazing over a beautiful calm sea, looking out for beautiful whales. Unfortunately we didn’t see any beautiful whales, or any ugly ones for that matter but when you lose yourself in such a beautiful place this didn’t seem to matter.
It was truly an amazing spot, silent & remote with only the darting flashes of Cormorants and Gannets breaking the beautiful stillness. Whilst taking a picture with my beautiful phone I noticed a missed call from my Dad and discovered he had fallen dislocating & breaking his shoulder. Not on a mountain of course but on a ground level kitchen.
I had to go home and help Mum & Dad so I’ve been commuting from Newcastle to Manchester for the last few weekends with more to come. There’s no time or opportunity for hills, these things happen, there’s no other choice and that’s fine. But driving down tonight in the darkness of the boring flat A1 I realised how much I miss the hills.
I need them in my life, the anticipation, the waiting, the uncertainty of the weather, the route, the light, the wind, even the rain, the steep stomach hurting ascents, knee aching descents, the sense of being high in the hills, the views, the wonder.
The situation is slowly improving and normal service will be resumed.
My name’s Mart and I miss the hills.