Armed with a compass and map (both of which I didn’t know how to use), I climbed Helvellyn this Thursday gone. At an elevation of 950m it’s the third highest peak in England. More importantly it was a target for inspiration, and during the ascent I got just that.
I begun the climb by a reservoir called Thirlmere which got the heart going. It was quite steep – a rocky path that snaked its way up around a 40-degree incline. Grass became rock and when looked further I saw that the top of this first part escaped into mist. Turning around offered fantastic views of the reservoir and others peaks. Once I climbed a bit higher I was engulfed in the mist.
Seen as there were barely any other trekkers that day, and I wasn’t 100% on the direction, it created a great atmosphere. The ascent was mild from here but visibility got worse. A sheer face was beside me – the top of which I could see was covered in snow. Seen as I didn’t know exactly where I was going or how far away the summit was I headed back.
That’s when I bumped into an old boy who knew where he was going. The summit was near.
It was only a four-night trip away but doing something that relates to my story was just the ticket. It has given the whole project a boost when it had gone stale. I understand why many writer’s go to retreats. The thing is, you might have a peaceful home. You may even have plenty of time to yourself. But going somewhere else just removes that background static, the notion of work and whatever obligations are associated with normal life.
Anyone who feels like they’re wading through mud should go somewhere that has some relation to the project they’re working on.