Shangri-La

 I used to love climbing mountains, mainly in the Lake District.  I loved the views, the pared back landscape of grass and scree with the occasional stunted thorn bush.  The blue distance and the feeling of open sky above.

However, over twenty years ago we moved to the south east, so the mountains got more distant.  Then our regular B&B shut down.  Then I got back and foot problems and gradually gave up hope I would ever again reach the summit. 

However, I’ve walked lots during Lockdown and was keen to try a mountain again. But, in Herts we are low on hills so I was far from confident about a steep climb.  I also had to buy new boots – not wise just before a tough walk.

Luckily, Nigel had climbed mountains more recently and was game for carrying our daysack (and possibly me, if the need arose).

So we booked a long weekend in a hotel in Borrowdale and agreed to tackle Great Gable (899m).  I stipulated that this time we would not be descending by Aaron’s Slack (a scree of constantly moving rocks). 

I was fine going up – my boots didn’t rub.  My feet and back held out well.  I wasn’t even out of breath.

Coming down, one of my knees really hurt, but even that was more because I’d injured it the day before.

In triumph, we sent the offspring our selfie from the summit.

“Great!” said Carenza, “And you both look so young!”

So maybe that’s where Shangri-La really is – at the top of Great Gable.