In the Black Mountains

Darkness has made place for a new day and the first rays of sunshine lighten up the tops of the trees. It is early as I walk to my car. My breath makes tiny clouds in front of me, it's chilly. A layer of frost covers the car. Slowly I drive out of the lane, enjoying the hillside views while the climate-control clears the windows.

A while later the navigation tells me to leave the highway and I drive along a 10-mile country-lane lined with trees extending in woodlands that cover the hills. The Black Mountains are my destination today. The road is testing my driving skills. Steering the car through sharp hairpin bends over narrow lanes while staying in low-gear for steep descents into the valleys, only to go up again to the top of the next hill. It's worth it all. The morning light is casting a beautiful glance on the autumnal coloured leaves of the trees.

I set off at a firm pace in the still chilly air. The path rises slowly to halfway the mountain top, giving me an easy walk while requiring enough effort to get warm. With the path, the sun also rises and when I arrive at the water-reservoir, it is truly warm. A temperature one wouldn't expect this late in November. Realising it might be the last time this year, I exploit the opportunity and bask in the sun for nearly an hour. Opposite the lake I see the mountain tops. Barren. Land and nothing but land stretching out for miles. Those long stretches of land do something with me. I want to keep on walking forever in that spaciousness, always attracted to the next hill, following the road that never stops. My mind and heart tell me of times when we always travelled the land, of times before roads were made… My body however firmly puts me back on the ground. Sore feet and hips make me slow down, acknowledging my bodies voice telling me that we haven't trained and should take it slow.

The path runs along steep cliffs, showing a beautiful view over the valleys in the North. The sun is chased away by low hanging grey clouds that bring back the chill, but my arrival at the cliffs is just in time for a sunny photo. More people arrive for a break at this amazing viewpoint and I meet a wonderful group of hikers from the Midlands. They radiate such a light and joyful energy. We both take the same route and so we meet again along the way and this time I walk up with them. In between there is time for prayer and we share those moments with me taking a mindful moment. An open conversation arises, revealing that our intentions are the same: feeling and expressing gratitude for life. How you do that, how you call it, is of no importance. The intention is what matters.

The path down to the wooded valley is steep and muddy. Step by step I go down, making sure not to slip. One of the hikers has a gift. Lightly like a bird he runs down on his trainers, seemingly not even looking where he put his feet. Losing balance not even once, no trace of tiredness. Does his bright eyes reveal a strong flow of life-energy running through him? A flow that gives him wings?