Sunday, October 15, 2006
Somebody Save Us
I kept waking up at intervals through the night or more accurately early morning. 3:00 and I could hear Grandad next door complaining through the thin wall. Early part of 6 I woke and dozed sporadically between the knowledge that in an hour I would have to be moving to kit up and pack, and the warm pocket of air I'd created in the cocoon of duvet and body heat. This was worse than getting up for school. Why had I arranged to come? I did not want to do this. But I would.
Some have said that not wanting to get out of bed in the morning is a sign of depression. I would argue it's simply the logical preference of warm, soft material molded to the shape of one's body to the extra-duvetial experience of supporting one's own weight against hard floor, surrounded by frigid non-supportive air. As I lay curled and balancing precariously off the bunk I realized this already unnatractive prospect would likely be the easiest part of my day. Because the next transition would be from the carefree role as the backseat passenger to the foot of a trail up the highest peak in Wales. With no experience and no training, I was going to walk up Snowden.
Well it seemed doable, damnit. My uncle and grandfather had already made the trip and on a whim I suggested we go together. I had, however, said this from the porch comfort of one of the flattest hottest states in the US at the peak of my summertime graduation elation. 6:51 and I catch a glance in the mirror on my way out the room, my hair is grease-filthy and I don't look pleased with myself.
Uncle asleep still on the couch. My decision to move had been partly to rob him of the satisfaction of waking me. Grandad's up so he must've had some trouble sleeping. I start making sandwiches.
The sandwiches are made with care because like the first awakening I know they will be part of the more pleasant moments in the day ahead. That and through some guilt and reaction based belief system I've adopted in the absence of familiar structure and Catholicism by making good sandwiches with good thoughts for my companions I will have a better chance of enjoying myself up there at the heights. Uncle wakes up and starts acting the fool. We dress and eat, then we get in the car.
Upset begins with conversation between father and son, it was mainly about speed cameras but I wincesmiled as softly as I could when son put on the Brakes loud without asking, between music and argument I didn't want to take sides. That was not cowardice.
Won'tyoushutthefuckupImajusttryintowatchthebaaandIfhegetsaticketthenhel'llpayitIfyougetcaughtI'llsueyehDadrelaxNonotheydon'tthey'vegotemallalongherewhenIgotoneitwere6oquidand3pointsyoudon'tseeemtheyhavetopaintthemyellowwillyouit'sa30thisishowIalwaysdriveRINGADINGDING, etc.
It might've been funny.
After getting lost, getting back, parking for free and pissin behind a tree because the youth hostel won't let publicites sit on its toilets, we began. The uphill climb seemed easy but beginning it overeager to prove nothing was wrong proved problematic. Sweat and hard breathing snuck out, c'mon not in front of them, now, already. Frequent breaks were luckily taken by me grandad, so on pretense of supporting him I got the rest I needed. It didn't look this steep from the bottom.
'Relax into your tension!'
Uncle trying to talk me through his relaxation techniques. It gives you something to think about so whether that's the relaxation I dunno. Up. Up. And onward. Serious walkers came by time to time and one had the cheek to say 'break time already?' as we supped our sandwiches. Cheeky beggar!
A lot of the method seemed to be confidence. The weight you put into your step and hence the amount of security it lent you all related to how confident you were putting your foot down. As we trundled along with that mountain bikers amazed us by insisting on rolling down ground we struggled to navigate at speeds where they had little or no control over unpredictable terrain. I envied them while I scoffed them.
Those sandwiches were good.
It took roughly 2 hours to get to the peak. It had been hotter than expected but cloud formed and descended almost directly below the peak itself. Promises of hot chocolate toilets and chocolate bars were countered by JCBs and fencing. How they managed to get the machines up, must've used the train. Saw the yellow stone steps we could've used, but we were here now and those looked slightly more tedious. A young boy with maybe his dad was saying when I go up Ben Nevis will you wait for me? More like you'll be waiting for me son. A lot of scouts and school trips, but quite an eclectic mix of people taking this on in their weekend.
There were moments when we stopped talking and I tried to appreciate what I was looking at. Looking down into bowls of slate rubble, seeing the spot where cloud was being generated. Hearing nothing for moments, and seeing nothing move.
Looked back at the mountain and thought, 'We just came down a fucking mountain.....YES!'
The trip comes highly recommended- there's a pub at the bottom of the trail that serves a very nice dark ale called noir.
Some have said that not wanting to get out of bed in the morning is a sign of depression. I would argue it's simply the logical preference of warm, soft material molded to the shape of one's body to the extra-duvetial experience of supporting one's own weight against hard floor, surrounded by frigid non-supportive air. As I lay curled and balancing precariously off the bunk I realized this already unnatractive prospect would likely be the easiest part of my day. Because the next transition would be from the carefree role as the backseat passenger to the foot of a trail up the highest peak in Wales. With no experience and no training, I was going to walk up Snowden.
Well it seemed doable, damnit. My uncle and grandfather had already made the trip and on a whim I suggested we go together. I had, however, said this from the porch comfort of one of the flattest hottest states in the US at the peak of my summertime graduation elation. 6:51 and I catch a glance in the mirror on my way out the room, my hair is grease-filthy and I don't look pleased with myself.
Uncle asleep still on the couch. My decision to move had been partly to rob him of the satisfaction of waking me. Grandad's up so he must've had some trouble sleeping. I start making sandwiches.
The sandwiches are made with care because like the first awakening I know they will be part of the more pleasant moments in the day ahead. That and through some guilt and reaction based belief system I've adopted in the absence of familiar structure and Catholicism by making good sandwiches with good thoughts for my companions I will have a better chance of enjoying myself up there at the heights. Uncle wakes up and starts acting the fool. We dress and eat, then we get in the car.
Upset begins with conversation between father and son, it was mainly about speed cameras but I wincesmiled as softly as I could when son put on the Brakes loud without asking, between music and argument I didn't want to take sides. That was not cowardice.
Won'tyoushutthefuckupImajusttryintowatchthebaaandIfhegetsaticketthenhel'llpayitIfyougetcaughtI'llsueyehDadrelaxNonotheydon'tthey'vegotemallalongherewhenIgotoneitwere6oquidand3pointsyoudon'tseeemtheyhavetopaintthemyellowwillyouit'sa30thisishowIalwaysdriveRINGADINGDING, etc.
It might've been funny.
After getting lost, getting back, parking for free and pissin behind a tree because the youth hostel won't let publicites sit on its toilets, we began. The uphill climb seemed easy but beginning it overeager to prove nothing was wrong proved problematic. Sweat and hard breathing snuck out, c'mon not in front of them, now, already. Frequent breaks were luckily taken by me grandad, so on pretense of supporting him I got the rest I needed. It didn't look this steep from the bottom.
'Relax into your tension!'
Uncle trying to talk me through his relaxation techniques. It gives you something to think about so whether that's the relaxation I dunno. Up. Up. And onward. Serious walkers came by time to time and one had the cheek to say 'break time already?' as we supped our sandwiches. Cheeky beggar!
A lot of the method seemed to be confidence. The weight you put into your step and hence the amount of security it lent you all related to how confident you were putting your foot down. As we trundled along with that mountain bikers amazed us by insisting on rolling down ground we struggled to navigate at speeds where they had little or no control over unpredictable terrain. I envied them while I scoffed them.
Those sandwiches were good.
It took roughly 2 hours to get to the peak. It had been hotter than expected but cloud formed and descended almost directly below the peak itself. Promises of hot chocolate toilets and chocolate bars were countered by JCBs and fencing. How they managed to get the machines up, must've used the train. Saw the yellow stone steps we could've used, but we were here now and those looked slightly more tedious. A young boy with maybe his dad was saying when I go up Ben Nevis will you wait for me? More like you'll be waiting for me son. A lot of scouts and school trips, but quite an eclectic mix of people taking this on in their weekend.
There were moments when we stopped talking and I tried to appreciate what I was looking at. Looking down into bowls of slate rubble, seeing the spot where cloud was being generated. Hearing nothing for moments, and seeing nothing move.
Looked back at the mountain and thought, 'We just came down a fucking mountain.....YES!'
The trip comes highly recommended- there's a pub at the bottom of the trail that serves a very nice dark ale called noir.
# posted by Kielty @ 4:25 PM 
