November is usually a tense month for me. By this point the frustration of being pinned inside for months - too cold for rock climbing, too warm for winter climbing - has mounted to the point of near insanity. I'll spend hours each week peering at weather forecasts looking for that one word which will fill me with joy and fear: Snow.
Once the mountains put on their white winter coats, all manner of irrationality kicks in for climbers. Here it's all 3am wake-up calls, hours of torchlit walking, hot aches and frozen noses, all so we can scratch our way up some frosty rock with out ice axes. Great.
There's so much more to it than just a bit of climbing though. It really does feel like an escape heading into the hills in winter. The the subdued greys and blacks of everyday life are replaced by fresh, shocking white. The sound of godawful xmas music and delayed traffic replaced by the clank of metal on rock and the manic croaks of ptarmigan. When you return home at the end of the day, you do truly feel like you've been somewhere else. And also like eating all the food you can find.
This year's different. We've had the most beautiful autumn I can remember, and I've been lucky enough to keep myself active with my bikes, so I've not felt that frustration and yearning that usually overcomes me at this time of year. Have I lost my Winter Psyche?
Hell no. I'm getting up to go climbing in the cairngorms in about 3 hours.
And I'm bricking myself.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment