On Sunday we went to the Sperrins. I drove while Bert read maps. It was a glorious sunny day which Bert saw little of - his nose being buried in Ordnance Survey.
We had a picnic in a little wood then went for a walk. I could have happily tramped around that wood for a couple of hours with my pedometer click-clicking towards my required 20000 steps but Bert had found another wood on his map and it had a little lake and he wanted to go there.
Driving there I saw what looked like a fairly accessible hill. For some reason I said, "I want to go up there." This was unusual for me, as I've been finding excuses not to climb hills for over ten years. Maybe in the light of Robin Cook's recent demise whilst hill-walking I felt that I too should dice with death.
It was tiring, it was glorious and it was worth it. On the way up I felt my heart practically trying to escape my chest wall. I just told it, 'way to go old pump. You can do it.'
The way down was more worrying. I was afraid I might slip and break or twist my leg. Funnily it was not the pain or inconvenience that worried me most but rather that it would keep me from going out walking - which has become my addiction. But we made it down safely and went to the wood with the lake, which was crap.
Meanwhile over on Trostan poor Dave did sprain his ankle whilst hill-walking. I hope you get better soon Dave and also that Zoe is being very kind to you.
And Ed - I've figured out why culchies have strange uppy-downy walks. It's because they normally walk on uppy-downy terrain. Their legs are so used to it that they do it even when they're in town.