The Climb

The new day was moody and morose; thick pulsating clouds loomed just above our heads as we pedalled over to our pal Meg's house. We drank coffee, ate almond croissants and asked a billion questions about the day ahead. Finally, we were going for a climb!

Stashed up with picnics and ropes and harnesses, we stomped through a dripping forest; moving with life and health and a want to extract every moment of potential adventure from it. The questions continued, and Meg, patient as ever, taught us about so much stuff, metre to metre along our journey.

"Meg, what's that barn over there"

"Meg, what does that mean?"

"Meg, are we going to die?"

We were at the bottom of the ascent and strapping our clambering nappies on, learning about some knots and eventually tying ourselves all together. There was no hesitation needed, it was time to get up there. Meg would stride ahead, composed and collected and unroped, but attached to her was one for me and one for Dan. She would pause occasionally and suss out the steps ahead, sniffing out the bolts like a wise mountain goat that sat in the craggy rock face that we were [oh so] slowly making our way up. Soon, she'd be out of sight, and we would stand gawping up watching the fidgeting ropes move and slowly tighten. Then she'd holler down; "Up you come" and then we'd go. Eyes wide open with anticipation and a pumping mind desperately trying to capture route holes as I worked my way up to each bolt point. Perched higher and higher up, we'd stare with blinking astonishment as the tiny towns below began to disappear from sight and we were soon approaching a moment that we would overtake the clouds.

Every time we caught up with Meg at her bileting (sp?)station, the conversation would be the same ; "Whoa, that was i n c r e d i b l e !!".

Red faced, panting and absolutely completely overflowing with adrenalin.

Not to impugn the work and impact of drifting up to the mountain peaks on the cranking edging-up ski lifts, but to also appreciate the pure satisfaction and elation of bit-by-bit working your legs and arms + bloody elbows and knees and whatever other bloody limb or body part you can use to grapple your way up; defying an immense gravity to arrive at an altitude beyond your wildest dreams; now then, that's a life-changing feeling. And to Meg, we are forever grateful for guiding us so smoothly to that summit!

8 hours later we were plodding our way back through the forest, the evening was thick with refreshing drizzle and hardcore mountain cyclists stampeding the great undulating gravel tracks of the woods; we gasped quick "Bonsoirs" to one another, but really, we were all so tired. It felt completely crackers to then be stomping along even ground and to be back surrounded by civilisation, but even then it felt like we were in a dream, as every cabin looked like it was from a fairytale, with crooked wonky wooden exteriors and raging bubbling fires illuminating the inviting cosy insides.

And soon, so soon, we were enjoying a delicious alpine evening of our own, slurping down hearty lentil and potato soup, slumping under radiating hot showers and of course, asking Meg more questions.