Psycho-killer clouds over Meall a' Bhuachaille. Photo: J. Willi (RSPB)Where do you go to hide?
The sea from Peanameanach
Where is your playground?
The Old Man of Hoy emerges from mid-winter mist.
Where can you find happiness?
The Puffins of Mingulay (Photo: Rik Higham)
Sometimes the answers seem close enough to touch; sometimes they seem so far away.
Why do so many of us play these useless games? To go back again and again, to struggle, to sweat, to scream?
Is it the places? Is it the people? Is it the spirit-crushing lows and mountain-moving highs? Is it the pain, the fear, the doubt? Is it purely the feeling of doing something, the challenge, testing the ability to overcome?
Steev wrestling with the crux on Pushover on Stac an Faraidh, Loch Avon Basin
I don't expect I'll never know. All I can be sure of is that it makes me scared. And excited. And tired. And happy. And alive.
No comments:
Post a Comment