In line with our ‘climb every mountain’ policy of training, Snowdon looms. The degrees of separation between us and people who have done it are considerably fewer than Kilimanjaro - i’ve been in cars, bars and automobiles with these hiking gods - but the separation between their thoughts on it is wide indeed.
There’s a decent 50:50 split between the ‘a mere frolic through the daisies with a slap-up tea’ and ‘abandon hope all ye who enter’. Without seeing these people and their lack of prosthetic limbs, you can’t know it, but trust me, they’re all capable of outrunning an average-sized axe murderer, no worries. So what's with the debate.
In ‘more than one way to skin a cat’ news, turns out there’s more than one way to get up Snowdon. There’s the two hour stroll and the six hour burning, tearing muscles, fighting off mountain lions and clawing at the bleached bones of those who have gone before for sustenance.
Now, I know that nothing worthwhile is easy and a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, but really, if the view from the top is the same (man), why take a route that is three times as long and 15 times more likely to leave icicles on your eyelashes?
I don’t want to ascend into philosophy, not until the oxygen really thins, but the road less travelled better had load us up with character. And not the heavy type that’ll weigh down our backpacks.
What have we learned:
We’re doing the six hour version
Stairs are the new mountains. Sometimes they also lead to coffee shops
Boot update:
Wearing them while watching The Budget may not break them in, but it’s more satisfying when you kick the TV
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