The recent weekends of getting back climbing on proper weekends away has reminded me of the things I love about climbing, specifically the things that aren't climbing....the beauty of the mountains, the tranquility of hidden valleys and quiet venues, the unexpected wildlife, the sun and the wind, the burnt face, the chapped lips, fingers curling into claws, bleeding hangnails on most fingers, simple camp cooking being the most delicious meal ever, falling into a sleeping bag bed and falling into sleep from pure and positive physical tiredness...
...and the skies, the vast, diverse and spectacular canopy that is so much better appreciated from the active lifestyle of a climbing trip than with furtive glances from a hospital bed:
...a burning, broiling cloud layer over Manchester, reflecting a distant sunset...
...swirling tendrils of cloud wrapping around Snowdon, tempting our burnt bodies with the promise of imminent shade that never arose...
...the joyous twinkling clarity of a star-filled night, bisected by the Milky Way and stretching into incomprehensible infinity...
...the fading of a dusky navy blue into a deep sullen red over the Lleyn Peninsula...
...a vividly sunny autumn afternoon in the Rhinnogs, with a blue sky so pure you could almost steal some to paint with it...
It's good to be back, and it's good to have this appreciation, maybe stronger than ever. Oh, and this was Aberdeen last weekend:
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