What mountains have taught me

Two weeks ago, we walked our way through a surprising 47 km of the Lake District and up and down eight peaks. Eight! I usually don’t like to count these things, because for me it’s less about exercise goals and more about waking up the body and being outside in incredible landscapes – but I’m proud of that, because I come from a family that doesn’t really do exercise and it’s kind of new to me. These days, I really appreciate the clear, calm rhythm the mind settles in to when I’m focused on walking, running, or doing yoga.

This trip, I tried to focus on being present (something I’ve been notoriously bad at in the past) by noticing my steps, what I could hear, see, and feel, and what this could tell me. What I needed. What I could learn. With no expectation of an answer.

What came to me, though, again and again, is how much walking, climbing, striving, the achievement and the rush of mountain-topping can change you. Can teach you that you are more than you thought. When I need motivation to get out and make time for myself and the outdoors, I want to remember this. In case you need motivation too – here’s something that might get you thinking.

The things that mountains have taught me.

Perseverance. Every day, there were moments when I thought my heart would burst from my chest and my legs were crying at me to stop, when I was sure I didn’t want to walk up mountains again, that I’d never make it up and down the other side. And yet every time, it passed. We’d come to the top and the view from there would be so unique and immense that I felt euphoria, pride, and a sense of (tired, possibly irrational) peace. Now I know that I can hold on to the end result when things get tough, and how worthwhile the hard parts will seem from that summit.

Taking a deep breath. This is something for which I have yoga to thank. Every time I thought I couldn’t go on, I told myself that the mind wants to give up before the body does. Every time I clung to rocks above a huge drop and thought I might die, I stopped, took a deep breath, told my mind that everything was fine, focused on my balance and my feet touching the rocks, and carried on. It took me years to realise that it’s possible to observe thoughts, to focus them. To stop the flood of fear-thoughts in their tracks, at least enough to carry on. And the strength that comes with that, and stays buried somewhere inside you.

Doing more than you thought you could. Boy, did I learn that. I haven’t felt such a sense of achievement that’s made my steps lighter since I lived abroad for a year by myself at the age of 20. Things that can seem impossible, or horrible, can turn out to be possible and empowering.

Timing. We walked most days from about 8am to 4pm, and I learnt that it’s worth getting up early for the quiet, peaceful mornings and the best weather; that it was worth it to have time to stop for a victory cold drink in the nearby valley pub on the way home. It was also necessary, to do the route we wanted to do safely before dark moved in or the weather changed. After I witnessed a rare cloud inversion on day one, before most people had made it to the peak we had found, I knew that, sometimes, timing can completely change an experience. You need to be ready to take that moment.

Finding your tribe. These days, I’m a proud introvert – not a broken extrovert, or someone who is too shy, but someone who lives a rich inner life, who has deep connections with a few, amazing friends, who can take immense enjoyment in life and struggle with analysing it too much. I’m happy with that because I value my passion for life and the deep emotions I feel – but for years, before I knew anything of personality tests and had met some of my now best friends, I felt as if I didn’t fit in a loud, social, marketed world. So one of my favourite points of our trip was when a woman and her friends stopped us on our way down a mountain to ask what the weather was like at the top, and whether there were other people up there – heading off with a loud, ‘Yes!’ when we told her we’d had it to ourselves.

Mountains. A place to find out who you are, and to be entirely yourself. People are tiny on the top of mountains, and sometimes it’s good to regain that sense of scale.

If you’re thinking of exploring the Lake District, I can highly recommend focusing on the Langdales!