LAST YEAR I had a plan: to get to know one place. To spend twelve months travelling in only one spot. Why? Well, the reasons were many. Some were understood. Some were deeper and less understood. Some were probably hidden even from me. And some were shallow. One reason was to write a book about
SPRING COULD WELL be my favourite season in the High Country. The fading away of feet of snow, the re-emergence of the living earth after being buried for so long, the first flush of green, the first flowers, the return of blissful warmth on bare arms and legs that had previously been encased in layers
ON THE SECOND day of June, 1993, I fell down a mountain. It nearly killed me. On the twentieth day of August, 1994, I went back. Happily, this second visit went better. There were no finger nails lost, you’ll be glad to know. No cartwheeling down glaciers. But there were tears, and not only from
ON THURSDAY LAST week I saw mention on social media that a powerful solar storm was about to begin. Potentially, it would be so powerful that a consequence of it – the aurora borealis – would be observable at far lower latitudes than usual. But I quickly discounted it. The chances of seeing the northern
AMONGST THE MANY trips I’ve taken this past winter eight of them have been to the same location, to a wild spot often overlooked: a forested ridge that rises above a broad pass. Returning to this place again and again has been a joy. In fact, going back has felt more joyful each time, like
LAST WEEKEND’S PLANNED night in the mountains almost fell through at the very last moment. The aim had been to return to an igloo I built months ago (an igloo I’ll blog about in due course) but a change in family circumstances just as I was preparing to leave home meant I’d have to return
THE WATERFALL DIDN’T last long. A day and a half, then it was done. It was a quick flood formed by the rapid thawing of two-feet of snow. It spilled over the edge of the typically desert-dry mesa; a temporary rush of water that cascaded downward, scattering sunlight with diamond flashes as it fell, spreading
I THOUGHT IT was high time I shared an update on Chris Townsend’s book, High Summer, to be republished this summer through my imprint, the Enchanted Rock Press. (Launch date to be confirmed, but watch this space!) Chris has been sorting through the 3,000 or so slides that he took during the journey, digitising a
A FEW WEEKS AGO I had the great pleasure of talking with author Sarah Lister for her ‘Wild About Kinder’ podcast: HERE. This podcast focuses on one of Britain’s most treasured mountains, Kinder Scout, a unique mountain in a multitude of ways. For various reasons, I enjoyed taking part in this podcast more than any