Sunday, 21 September 2008

When she was in the papers

There were more tracks left in the dew on bright mornings that Autumn. More humans. They walked in restrained paths, she noticed, usually following wiggling lines at a steady pace. They came with books and paper sheets, climbing up the same sort of route from the road in the valley. Some brought children who ran, joyous, whose skipping feet looped away and back over the rise. And sometimes they brought dogs who raced and galloped to map the whole hillside in enthusiastic zigzags, threading over her contours, missing no inch of her curves, covering the ground with all senses on full alert. She could hear their lolloping ecstatic heartbeats. Loved the small thunder of their paws.

More people. That was the only change. She listened and watched and welcomed as usual. Gazed at the turning of each wonderful day, felt the gradual pull and dive of each season beneath the blue dome of night skies. 

She didn't know that she was being talked about, that she, who they called Mynydd Graig Goch, was big news. The stream plunged over rocks and became gurgling waterfall, the lark rose to pour metal song down from the sky. She listened to the endless symphonies of gathering breeze, to the low pitched rage of heat somewhere deep beneath her. Arching her back in the last caresses of September sun, she felt the topmost rocks inch closer to the cheek of the sky.

A Welsh hill has now been upgraded to mountain status after it was discovered that it's official measurement was incorrect. It's true height [609.75m] is now six inches over the magic 2000ft that qualifies it as a mountain. Go and climb it!