Withering Heights

Today's  blip is really about the extra, but I didn't take that, so instead you get another in my rather poor series of raptors from afar.

As I wander this winding path back into the hills its been as much a mental recovery as physical, acceptance becoming as challenging as discovery, resilience as precious as gold. Learning what I can do often fogged in the grieving of what I've thought lost. 

In the darker moments I've doubted I'd even walk in the mountains again. 
In the dreaming I've climbed crag and cliff, stood on summits and sung. 
In the bright light of day I've accepted things will never be quite the same again, that some things need to be let go. 
But, always, always, a but. 

Today myself and M, who's fought his own demons these last two years, wandered out with a rope and a rack. At the foot of our favourite limestone escarpment M decided today wasn't his day, but he's travelled far just to be there with me, I'm so pleased for him. 

I on the other hand knew I had to know. 

I could tell you that the Eiger meant more than the Matterhorn, that the last furious retreat off Mont Blanc will be remembered longer that all three successful summits, that I've climbed VDiffs that held more worth that E6, but the truth, as any junkie will tell you, is that nothing is as good as the fix in front of you now. 

I climbed four nondescript little routes on a top rope*, all at grades that I used to solo - and they meant the world. I thought of a fifth and that hard won inner voice, the voice the moment has always shouted over, the voice of this new me said "enough, enough now, you'll be back"

It rained on and off all day in the North, yet we walked down the valley in the glow of an excellent day. 

*& yes, I've even a modicum of common sense nowadays.