Ahh, back home now after enduring one of my least favourite domestic chores - The dreaded trip to the supermarket at 6pm on a Monday! It's got to be right up there with acute dental pain in terms of pleasurable experiences in life.
I don't know what it is about this particular time of day, but it never fails to be an overload on my senses, and ultimately my patience and mental sanity (what remains anyway). So, apologies in advance, but I'm going to get it off my chest, and trust me, there is a mountain-related point to this latest rant.
First hurdle to get over, is locating the generous car parking space. Not easy when drivers of certain over-sized and over-priced German saloon cars think it's their god-given right to park at a 37 degree angle to the white lines, thus having the domino effect of putting the 3 spaces either side out of sync. Now, as a Virgo, this grinds me. If you're gonna park, do it properly for Pete's sake! (Never met "Pete", but I've argued a lot on his behalf through my life). And it has to be a "generous" space as I have no intention of adding any more dints to my beloved car door than I already have. If the selfish car-door openers continue at the rate they are, mine's going to have more pimples than a post-acne teenager. You may drive a beat-up old Volvo made of cast-iron and granite, but I love my wheels and have work damned hard keeping it looking smart and blemish-free, so have a little courtesy when exiting your 2-tonne slab of steel and rust.
Once parked, it's the dangerous task of getting past the obligatory Half-Rottweiler/Half-Pitbull genetically modified mongrel that's tied up with towing-rope to the bicycle rack at the shop entrance. Wearing Axl Rose's belt around it's neck, and probably boasting an ASBO or two, this 4-legged lump of muscle, fangs and saliva will yap and omit relentless barking-based profanities at every would-be shopper entering the store until it's owner (probably not a member of the W.I) returns with a 4-pack of extra strong lager and 3 litres of value-brand cider. And what's the betting that "Tyson" will have his waterbowl topped up with snake-bite later this evening, thus amplifying the canine's aggression further still?
The shopping is by comparison, a relatively painless affair. Well, it is until Sainsbury's decide to mess with my head and have a random "re-organisation" of their store, thus completely destroying my carefully planned mission in to supermarket no-mans land. In particular, I've noticed that my favourite basket filler - King prawns, are subject to more re-locations than most foodstuffs, and next week it wouldn't surprise me at all to find them in the tinned veg section, hiding discreetly between the un-salted Petits Pois and the Fairtrade Chantenay Carrots.
The last deadly test is of course "checkout". It starts with a frantic over-taking/under-taking sprint from the Frozen Food aisle to the "Basket-only" lane (I don't do weekly "Big Shops"). Then it's ducking and weaving past all the trolley-pushers gawping lifelessly at the "end-of-aisle" promotions, wondering (for instance) if the half price Duracell batteries can truly be justified in this week's shopping budget. Once past them, it's the life or death split-decision that is :- "Which of the 2 lanes is the shortest?" Of course, the shortest doesn't necessarily mean the fastest, however I've yet to absorb this well-known fact in to my grey matter. So, once stuck in a queue which moves in glacial time, stuck behind more "faffers" who can't locate their Nectar card, and having resisted the temptation to switch lanes by stealth, one is faced with several minutes of pondering and people watching. It's at this point, that everything comes back in to perspective. Here, the sensory overload truly begins.
With my eyes tonight I can see mild panic, frustration, impatience, confusion, dis-allusion and the odd glimmer of happiness in this sea of retail hell. With my nose, I can smell fresh bread, glade plug-ins, the old man standing behind me, the young woman on her iPhone in front of me, and the faint hint of evaporated floor-cleaner emerging from besides the yellow wet floor sign located at the bottom end of the dairy aisle. But it's the sounds that stir me the most. "Beep", Arguments, "Beep", Bag-fumbling, "Beep", Tanoy announcements, "Beep", "Enter your pin please", "Beep", Tyson barking again, "Beep", "You've forgotten the Tea Bags", "Beep"........and so it goes on!
And it was precisely then, just then in this mine-field of man-made techno-noises and mildly-subdued hysteria that I'm catapulted back to just over 24 hours ago, sat on the sun-drenched slopes of Blencathra, towering above the daunting outline of Sharp Edge, listening to.........the deafeningly beautiful sound of absolute silence! There we were, 4 sweaty, muddy souls staring calmly to the west, hypnotised in to utter speechlessness by the sheer silence of this magical moment. No wind, no traffic noise, no conversation. Just pure nothingness! And it was wonderful! And for the cherry on the cake - a majestic fully-grown Raven homed in to view and the noiseless serenity was temporarily broken up by the gentle flapping noise as the black-feathered beauty flapped its wings effortlessly through the still, Cumbrian air.
Now, this was a first for me! Sure, I've enjoyed "pure silence" before. But to actually hear the beating of a bird's wings, and from about 30ft away, well, this was all new territory for me. And this isn't just about my hearing ability! (or lack of it!) Some of you well know that I'm a tad "Mutton and Jeff" and I make no secrets about that. The left side "radar" was never commissioned from day one. That's a fact! And the right one kinda works, but only to a certain degree. Perhaps it was built by the militant, striking British Leyland workers of the early 1970's? The biological equivalent of a Triumph TR-7. Looks ok, but doesn't really work on a day to day basis! Regardless of the Van Gogh undertones, I treasure what I hear, and that fleeting, beating noise will stay with me forever.
Sunday's walk was a glorious one! Four of us, all of which are committed to climbing Kilimanjaro in 2011, albeit via 2 separate organised charity treks, making our way effortlessly across the various summit ridges of this much-loved mountain. Stan and Carl are signed up to attempt Kili in July, whereas Nichola and myself have another 2 months to wait before we get our teeth and boot-treads stuck in to Africa's highest peak. Today was also Nichola's first "real" Lakeland mountain ascent, and I have to say, having previously introduced many of my non-cumbrian friends to the realities of fell-walking, "the girl done good!" The new boots she purchased no more than 24 hours prior to this ascent were strong and true, and I'm pretty sure she'll be keen to "muddy" them up again at the next given opportunity. On the descent, we soaked up a few more peaceful moments at Scales Tarn in the shadows of Sharp Edge, and here, I think Nichola truly fell in love with Lakeland.
It looks like spring has finally sprung. The days of wading through 3ft snow drifts and walking without fear of ice-induced injuries look like they're well and truly behind us. (Although I secretly adore Lakeland under a white blanket). What lies ahead is longer days, warmer temperatures and endless scope for exploring the un-spoiled corners of this great county. The training for Kili has well and truly begun!
I guess I must take the opportunity now to promote our superb charity http://www.childrentoday.org.uk/ who have been superb thus far in preparing us for the trek in September. All 3 of us doing the Kili-climb this Autumn had the pleasure of taking part in another one of their organised events in mid February, this time walking over a very different type of terrain. You'll see what I mean here
You can follow all our progress via our Facebook page http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=10150118264585221&ref=ts and of course, I'll be tweeting on a regular basis from ground level to summit-tops. So if you want to follow my regular updates, you'll find me here http://twitter.com/#!/Spudda73
Right, that's enough for tonight! Thanks for putting up with me, and whether you're doing it for charity or not, get out there and walk! It's good for the soul!
Tim & the Kili-crew
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