UK Heights

Somerset

 

Walk and do not stop.

I have just started my journey up on those old wooden stairs that will lead to the side of that mountain-sized hill.

I am half way through when I realize that I should have gone to the gym before I start to take up on such challenges.

I have to see what is up there, what is everybody talks about. I need to, I have to!

I keep walking, my muscles are shouting at me ‘STOP DOING THIS!’

I carry on, and make it to the top. Oh, why did I think these old stairs will be the toughest part of this hike?

The giant, mountain-hill looks down at me laughing at me. ‘I will make it’ I tell myself and I pick up a piece of wood, that good as a walking-stick.

I carry on. I cannot give up. I came so far I will see what it is on top of that hill!

I remember that song that my father taught me when I was little. I remember I was struggling to cycle up on the hill where our house stood. He came next to me, pushed me to help me getting up on the hill, he looked at me and said ‘I drink milk, so I make it! I drink milk so I make it’!

I catch myself whispering ‘I drink milk, so I make it!’ as I start to walk up on that damn hill.

‘Why do I do this?’ I stop after a few ten-meters and sit down gasping. ‘I should just ask some of these fit hikers to take some pictures at the top with my camera. If my camera makes it; I make it. AT least I will have some pictures to show to the ladies at the bridge club’      

If those ladies made that hill, so will me!

I get up and keep walking, relying on my walking-stick very much. The sweat appears on my forehead in the shape of small purl-drops. It sparkles in the sunshine, as I step out of the trees and carry on walking on a green, tree-less land.

Young couples pass by me, and hikers with dogs. I should do this more often, I should go to gym to be fit.

I need to see this, I want to see this! I keep walking, but my muscles are in fire now. I am in agony. I think I felt similar pain when I first took a Zumba Lesson, five years ago. I have never gone back to Zumba, and now I regret it very much.

My legs feel like I am walking on and dragging heavy stones beneath my torso.

I see the end finally. I am walking almost three hours now. It is unbelievable that I am here, I am closer to the top and I am about to make it!

I step in a hole. OUCH! My ankle hurts terribly. I sit down and take my shoe and socks off. My ankle looks fine; it did not break although it has been twisted badly. My skin is read around.

I put my socks and shoe back, get up and rely on the walking-stick even more than before. I walk very slow, making sure I put little weight on my ankle.

When I make it to the top, the sun is high up on the sky. It takes me another two hours from the hole to top, as I walk extremely slowly.

The view is breathtaking. The walking-stick fall off from my hand and I sit down. The grass is long, green and fat. It feels like an expensive carpet. I can see villages, cities and a lake lying underneath the mountain-sized hill.

My eyes fill with tears of happiness. I made it.

I look around. ‘I am afraid of heights’ I think as I look down. I am at the edge. I laugh. ‘I am not afraid of heights anymore!’ and I lie down on the grass satisfied.   

   

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