Saturday, September 02, 2006

Byrness to mountain refuge hut (number 2)

Pete arrives
8am breakfast in the first and last cafe/garage in England
cafe au lait not so good this morning - tastes like weetabix
everyone has black pudding except Simone
Tamara donates hers to hungry men
Glyn departs
so do we
a mushroom trail up a very steep hill
onto the ridge between two lands
mostly militarised so stay on the path
'do not touch or you will die', a sign says
end of access land
we climb into Scotland to avoid the bogs
leaving edges of forests
we have an encyclopeadia walking with us
a catalogue of music and tunes
talks us onto a boardwalk echoing conversations hit the pines
our voices are moving
through a valley to a sign for lamb hill
a long three miles to a shelter
flies and sheep live here
they come to eat lunch with us
but they don't partake in any tai chi
up up up up
down down down
the sun is beating down
two walkers walking south
say that the cheviot is just an hour away
they were walking down hill
time seemed to stretch as far as the landscape
the longest paving on and on and on
Peter's tales speed up time
distance between us grows
paces slow and quicken
the individual ways of getting up that hill
there's a different rythym in all our heads
a duet is with the contours (duel)
the top, a chocolate stop
six battered legs
a junction
'we're high enough'
the cheviot looks like a small mound
we wonder what it really has to offer us for those extra 2 1/2 miles
boardwalk the other way
scree scramble
running down
the shelter
constructed by the RAF
now we bunk down on narrow wooden platforms
camping food cramps
sheep trying to break in
the wind crossing
sweaty night
tales of cold Finnish walks
and more talk of saunas
an early night
not even dark yet


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