So....long time, no see. I really can't say I'm sorry. Cos if I said I was sorry about not writing, that would mean that I am sorry for feeling better....and that, sir, is not the case! I am not sorry for feeling mentally stable again! I am not sorry for fewer temper tantrums! And I am certainly not sorry for the lack of tears. So...sorry, not sorry. :)
Recently, I went for a hike in the Lake District. For those of you unfamiliar with said part of England, please please please check it out. It's such a magical place. Mountains, lakes, green rolling hills, fuzzy cows (which we'll talk about later), 500 year old farm houses, sheep and cute baby lambs, 500 year old pubs, thousands of trails, and really really nice people. Everyone that lives there and visits there have one thing in common: a love of the great outdoors. It'd be hard to NOT have something in common with the person sat next to you at the pub, lemme tell you what! Enter as strangers, leave as friends! It feels homely and I can't get enough of the place. In fact, this is my second visit this year. I've recently bought a book of the top 10 ridge walks in the Lake District and before 2018 rolls around, I promise I will have completed them all (well, attempted to...). Anyway...
When I set off from Yorkshire, the weather wasn't great, but it wasn't raining. By the time I got to the M6 (about 40 mins from my destination), the sun came out! Yee-haw! I was overjoyed! Even in the bleakest mist and rain, the Lakes is a fantastic place, but IN SUNSHINE?!?! It's heaven on Earth! I was so pleased with this rarity that I set off from the hostel with a spring in my step the size of Texas; I could not stop smiling. Every person I passed had to endure this madness; I must've looked mental. OH WELL, CHAPS! This rarely happens: 1) I rarely get time off to go to the Lakes on a weekday and 2) It's fricking sunny outside! So, I got to Ambleside before noon and easily found the start of Hike Number 1 from the aforementioned book of Hikes: The Fairfield Horseshoe. And so it began...the climb that could! I was going uphill from the moment "go!' and it was (dare I say it) HOT out! Like sweat-dripping-between-your-tits-and-also-into-your-eyes kinda hot. And for my Arizona friends, no. You're right. It wasn't like hiking Camelback in Apr/May/June/July/Aug/Sept/Oct/Nov kind of hot...It was more like hiking South Mountain in December. But I cannot say this enough....Sunshine and warmth are very rare in the North of England....I'm sure the sun only has a 5 day contract for this part of the island. So, we've got 4 days left in 2017....
Right, back to the hike. Wait, no. That's something I have always wondered about over here. Why do the UK folk call hiking, "walking"? I sure as shit wasn't just "walking" the other day up on that mountain! My piss-wrapped sports bra proved it....Ok, back to it. As I went along, about 30 minutes in, I saw these shaggy, fuzzy, red-headed cows with long horns. And I do mean LONG. Kinda scared me....Ok, not kinda. Really scared me! I've been scared of cows ever since 2013 when I had a run in with some hungry dairy cows on a hike in Leeds; they all charged at me until I found myself climbing up a flipping high tension power line. I stayed up there for about 30 minutes, until they realized I wasn't the one with the feed. So yeah, cows with massive horns scare me. These fuzzy cows with red hair (apparently we have the same hairdresser), are known as Highland Cows and can weigh up to 1800 lbs (800kgs)! Now, I know I have gained a bit of weight since moving to the home of the Pork Pie, but c'mon! I didn't gain enough weight to be brave enough to walk alongside one of these horned beasts! Not after the dairy cow/power line incident! As I cowardly walked as close as humanly possible to the dry stone wall marking the edge of the field, pulse raised, fight or flight kicking in....a very petite woman of about 5'1" popped over the crest of the hill, probably weighing no more that 100 lbs soaking wet. What did she do?? Walked straight up to the cow and tried to get a cuddle. I stopped "trying to take a really edgy picture" of the cows from the perspective of nearly the other side of the field when I saw this....I figured I was safe. My pulse calmed down but I still felt the need to speed walk to the next section of the hike, just in case.
About another 30 minutes had passed since I saw the cow-whisperer and I passed a couple that made me giggle. The "Insta" couple, I have come to call them. Him, with is chiselled physique and Hugh Jackman Henley top (with all three buttons undone to show a bit of his gym gainz), her with her big fake boobies and perfectly straightened hair...each with a stereotypical dog by their side...he had a German Shepard and she had some little Terrier of sorts. I did the anti-British thing and said hi to them...He replied with a very British, "al'rite?". Which I've mistakenly taken as a lazy way of saying, "Are you all right?" ....So I answered! "Yes, I'm good, thanks. How are you guys?"....No reply. Well, at least not one with words. He just laughed. I sometimes forget that "al'rite?" is just the Northern way of saying hello. No one ever answers....whoops. Silly American! I know I said that people were nice in the Lakes....well, I'm sure these two are perfectly nice, I just threw them off guard by actually speaking to them on the side of a mountain!
For the next hour and a half, I didn't see anyone else on the trail. And the trail was relentless - lots of scree, crags and pikes. I was growing weary....So, I resorted to talking to rocks to keep myself going - no joke. My train of thought went like this....How lucky am I to be out in the sun? How lucky am I to have a car to drive me to the beautiful Lakes? How lucky am I to have strong legs to carry me across these rocks up this mountain? Huh, these rocks. They must be really old...."Hey mate, al'rite?", I said to a particularly poignant one that jutted out sideways from the Earth, proudly showing off all of its layers (and now I know he's not meant to answer. That's not what they do 'round these parts). "How old are you?...Millions of years old? Is that right?"....I was questioning from how deep within the Earth's core each one had come. I wondered how long each one been basking in the sun and rain in their own little spots in Cumbria? Do they like it when they are stepped on? Do they feel fulfilled when that happens, or does it annoy them?....Well, I didn't get a single response. I did however, get a very large feeling of insignificance. And I love that feeling. It's hard to describe....But I'll try....
Think about this, I've been alive for 34 years, the rocks I was walking on have existed in their little Cumbrian homes for about 420 million years.....My time on earth is 0.00000008095 of the lifetime of those rocks. Mathematically insignificant. Or to put it another way, I would have to live my life 12,352,941 times to catch up.....It makes me almost feel the need to bow down and worship those rocks and that land for staying put and never giving in to what the world throws at it; for millions of years. Does that make sense? It also gives me strength to try to be as unwavering as those rocks and that land....Got a cold in the dead of winter? BAH! How about a seeing a few ice ages come and go? Traffic jam on the way to work? HUH, volcanoes erupting all around you....It sounds really crazy, but I don't know....being outside in the bosom of our Earth is powerful. Almost too powerful to put into words. It makes this materialistic life laughable and it oftentimes saves me from myself. Close your eyes and the wind is the wind, no matter what part of the world you are in. The sun is the sun, and the stars shine the same no matter your latitude or longitude.
When I was up on that mountain, sweating my tits off in the sun, standing on a 420 million year old rock.....I was home.
