It's Sunday, early afternoon. I've been back in town for just under 24-hours - and a large part of my headspace is still caught up in the mountains, where I've spent just over a week camping, scrambling and wild swimming. Some of you may remember a post of mine about wild camping last year[12]. Just over a year later and myself and a few more friends sketched out a similar trip, though this time we stayed inland in the mountainous region rather than drifting by the coast.
A small handful of us arrived late at night, pitched our tents in the dark, crashed out straight away after the long drive - and spent the days of the following week largely mountain scrambling. There are some great descriptive writings for many of the known scrambling routes in the mountains in the area we were based, written by experienced climbers with first-hand knowledge of these routes; their nuances and particularities, and useful descriptions of features in the landscape to help navigate by. We managed four full mountain scrambles within the course of the 8 days we were away, with differing levels of difficulty and also some slight differences in weather conditions (some notably stronger winds during one open ridge climb that made the experience exhilerating and humbling.. the danger of some sketchy drops looming beneath you as gusts of wind emerge out of nowhere).
On quieter days, we recharged our energy through some lower-intensity activities like gorge walking and wild swimming in some of the glacial lakes and rivers; near icy cold water against the late Summer sun falling down making a really refreshing experience (admittedly usually only after a few minutes mustering the will power to delve into the water after testing out the temperature).
Two highlights for me were two of the scrambles; one across a ridge in stronger winds, the other largely through a gully and the path of a dwindling waterfall. The descriptions for the ridge scramble[5] had pointed out that many of the stones were a lot looser on this route, and that knowledge really came in handy when navigating the climb. I had to give more focus to the discipline of testing rock-holds for their stability before making firm moves towards them. This involves mainly making sure that at a given point you can support your weight and balance with a certain hold on the rock, whilst testing other rocks and grips you're looking to move to before shifting your weight in that direction. This can be harder than it may sound, as the 'puzzle' of the climb often hints at certain options, and these may be closed down when certain rocks shake or wobble and won't be good enough for supporting your weight on the ascent. Plus the thrill of navigating the ridge in the open wind, and reconnecting with some very humble feelings about being a very small creature against a very large mountain - with all the wild and strong forces of nature surrounding us, the wind swirling around as we navigate the gnarly rocks.
The gully scramble was equally enjoyable, as this had some more challenging vertical climbs, and a wild, misty summit at cloud level[2] where navigation for the route down became a useful challenge and lesson in mountain navigation in reduced visibility.
We arrived back in town late last night, and I was too tired to bathe before crashing out. This morning I woke up early as my bodyclock seems to have been reset to match the sunrise through my tent. I made a coffee and spent about 90-mins soaking in the bath... pure bliss. I'm not yet acclimatized to the city rhythms, which is always a distortion in the return from a trip like this. As I was walking through the neighbourhood earlier I noticed empty beer bottles on the streets and used-up cannisters of laughing gas, scuffed spillages on the pavement and the rich smell of fried takeaway food - sensory overload. I notice that my headspace is still in the rhythm of the mountains, but also my emotional self is occupying a slightly different world to how I usually feel when the day- to-day of working and city life is the routine. I feel a kind of looseness or tenderness in my emotional state, like a guitar string that hasn't been tightened and may sway and bend too easily in either direction - somewhere between restful bliss as I carry positive feelings of the past week with me, but also a kind-of light melancholy, perhaps through tiredness but perhaps also through the bombardment of city life.
I set today aside before I return to work next week, and I've been listening to a few LPs in full as I potter about doing some easy chores (laundry mainly; getting a week's worth of grime out of my clothes and kit. There's a funky smell in my room... I think it might be me). The Flaming Lips' 'The Soft Bulletin' is spinning on my record player:
Driving home the sky accelerates And the clouds are formed of geometric shapes And it goes fast Think of the past And suddenly everything has changed
photograph: a view from the end of the waterfall scramble, before the summit
photograph: a cloud sweeping across a plateau
photograph: a section of light falling through the clouds on the valley below
photograph: on the approach to the ridge scramble
photograph: the beginning section of the ridge climb
photograph: looking back across a section of the ridge
photograph: looking back with a little more distance
photograph: the full ridge mentioned above - visible in the middle distance of this image
