Challenge and reward in the mountains

An alpine start

Somewhere in the depths of slumber the drawl of my alarm reaches me. I half open one eye, the clock reads 5am. It takes a moment to remember why I’m being woken at this hour. Oh yes, I’ve been gifted a day to myself and I’m heading for the hills. But my instinct is to snuggle deeper into the warmth of my bed, reluctant to move. 15 minutes pass before I persuade my sleepy self I really do want to get out of bed and head out into the cold dark. ⠀

I cycle the short distance to the road end, trying to concentrate on the way ahead and not be too distracted by the stars above. Startled eyes are reflected by my head-torch beam, a huge stag jumps and runs alongside me for a moment. I always feel a special kind of joy inhabiting a part of the day that is normally the reserve of the nocturnal. ⠀

Waking the legs

I reach the start point of my run, Loch Treig dam. I plan to run around the Loch, including all the main summits that rise from its shoreline. Life has been hectic, I’ve hardly been running and it feels like a long time since I climbed a mountain. I’m intrigued to see what I can do.⠀

I start up the rough hillside, I know it well but familiarity is lost in the dark. Carefully I pick a route between the cliffs, below a train rumbles along the valley and I watch for a moment thinking of the people cosy inside. A world away from me huffing and puffing my way upwards. I ask myself where would I rather be, why do I choose to do this? A questions that recurs over the course of the day. ⠀

As I reach the ridge line light is filling the sky and I no longer need my head-torch. The air is suddenly filled with the guttural calls of Ptarmigan, a rousing morning chorus which spurs me on. My path crosses theirs and they burst into the air, I’m surprised and delighted to see so many together. ⠀

New terrain

By the time I arrive at the first summit my hopes for a winter sunrise have faded. I’m engulfed in cloud, white above and below. I try not to let this dampen my spirits and keep moving, albeit a little grumpily, to the next high point of the route. ⠀

From here its a long run along a rough, broad ridge to the west end of the Loch, a route new to me. I follow an animal trod, enjoying adding my footprints to the deer, fox and hare trails already leaving their mark in the shallow snow. Beams of sunlight break through the clouds and the hillsides glow in orange winter light. My mood lifts with the weather. ⠀

Creag Ghuanach

The next hill is small in comparison to its surroundings but it has character. Creag Ghuanach sits at the head of Loch Treig. It is steeped in local history and the backdrop to Oran na Comhachaig. An ancient Gaelic song passed down through oral tradition which explores the connections between land, people, nature and identity. I have wanted to climb it for a while. ⠀

As I tiptoe my way up it’s steep, rocky sides I think of all the people who have moved through this landscape over the centuries. How did they feel in this place? ⠀

Today there is trace of no creatures other than the red deer that have made the hill their own. Their paths crisscross it’s slopes like highways. I marvel at how nimble they are as I haul myself up wet heather and slippery rocks, aware of the air beneath my feet. At the summit antlered stags scurry in all directions and I thank them for guiding me here. Allowing myself a quiet moment to be with this place before I move on.

The balance of challenge and reward

The last climb of the day is long and relentless. My feet are sodden and cold from the river crossing below, my hips are not happy and once again I’m engulfed by cloud. That question returns, why do I do this? Wouldn’t one mountain have been enough? I remind myself that a little bit of temporary discomfort is no bad thing and push on. ⠀

At the snowy summit instant gratification arrives. A combination of knowing most of the miles are done and the clouds parting to reveal sun kissed and snow capped mountains as far as the eye can see. ⠀

I slip and slide down the mountain, enjoying the last of my time alone in this place. My footsteps the only human ones on the mountain, I have not see another sole all day. ⠀

Back at my bike I take a moment to sit and process the day. I can’t think of an answer to my why? anymore than because I need to. Something about challenging myself in the mountains allows me to be my best self. The combination of physical effort and wild places has a unique and inspiring effect, especially when I do it alone. It gives me a deep satisfaction and self-belief that in turn makes me a better mum, partner and all round a more productive human being. So I guess that’s a pretty good ‘why’ after all! ⠀

My thoughts are broken by the chatter of my mum and daughter coming along the track to meet me. It is a joy to share the last moments of this adventure with them. ⠀