Remembering a Mountain

It's raining. Cold, wet days in early December are no fun. I prefer it when it gets even colder and the water's frozen. Somehow the cold then doesn't feel so unpleasant. Fortunately, I don't have to venture outdoors today. The only times I've poked my head out of the door I've immediately drawn it back in again, like a snail burrowing back into its shell.

It's strange but although I don't feel like going out to the dustbin in this miserable weather I do quite like the idea of setting off on a walk across the moors. Jumper, scarf, coat, an umbrella. A muesli bar in my pocket. Walk to the top of a hill and stand staring into the clouds, the rain stinging my face. I've done it often enough. Once, I found myself in North Wales with a group of friends. We were intent on going hill walking but the weather was against us. Torrential rain, the sort that turns roads into rivers, had driven everyone indoors. We were staying in a youth hostel at Ogwen. There was a shelter outside for people who, like us, arrived early. We found it packed with young people, all quietly sat reading paperbacks. We decided that sitting in the dry reading books was not our style. We resolved to climb the local mountain, Pen Yr Ole Wen, come what may. The weather was wild but not, we decided, dangerously so. We trudged up the wet scree in our waterproofs, hoods up and gloves on. When we came to rocks and had to scramble over them, the water ran down our sleeves and out through the bottoms of our trousers. When we finally came to the summit-ridge the blast of wind that met us was so strong we had to crawl to the summit. It's one of the most memorable afternoons I've ever spent on a mountain. I wouldn't have missed it for the world. When we got back to the shelter everyone was still there, dry if not warm, still reading their paperbacks. I think we all felt a bit smug. 

I don't think I'm going to get off on a walk today, though. That's another thing you have to contend with this time of year. If you want to go somewhere, you've got to get on with it and go, otherwise all of sudden you find it's getting dark.

G, my partner, has been Christmas shopping online, on-and-off, all morning. I think we're determined to get everything we usually sort out sorted out a couple of weeks in advance. I have visions of the supermarkets and the online delivery services many people have come to rely on these last few months buckling under the strain of Christmas plus covid. With luck, it won't happen. Nevertheless, I don't fancy three days living on baked beans and pasta.