Just got back from my trip to the Dolomites which was awesome. Hard work but awesome. A fellow hiker described it not as a holiday, but a hobby we had travelled abroad for. Early mornings, achy legs, rain and bruised knees are not what would constitute a holiday to most folk. Anyhow, the purpose of the trip was to experience some "Via Feratta" (Italian for iron roads) to take our hiking to the next level. This meant getting up cliff faces with the help of a harness and some cables and iron spikes strategically drilled into the rocks.
The best and worst day of the week for me was our third and most exposed and technically challenging via feratta. The first two hours of climbing were fantastic, the adrenaline was pumping, we were gaining altitude quickly and I was hugely proud of myself for not feeling the fatigue or any worries about handing from a cliff face with a huge drop below me. However about three quarters of the way through the climb, I hit an overhanging rock which I just couldn't make my way over. After two attempts to find sufficient foot holds, I fell. The harness caught me after dropping only a couple of feet, but by that time my confidence was gone and my strength had disappeared. With shaky arms and legs, not to mention a long scrape down my arm, I tried again to pull myself up but I had hit a wall. A group of people were gathering on the rock below me offering various bits of advice, "put your foot there", "hold onto that peg there", "just keep going", but there was no getting me over that rock.
A pair of impatient climbers came past, knocking me out of the way as I hung there helpless, trampling my fingers as they clambered over my rock shaped nemesis. That was my lowest point of the day. Not because I was struggling with my new hobby but because I was shown such little regard by the people I shared this hobby with. Soon after came another experienced climber (strangely the same nationality as the previous two) who could not help enough. He offered advice, sympathised and took my mind off my situation by telling me about his recent visit to my home town (for football reasons - of course!) Soon after, a rope was lowered down and I was given the extra push I needed to get on my way again. As he finally made his way past me I apologised to the friendly climber for holding him up. His response has stayed with me since. He said " It's quite alright. Everybody has to find their own experience". Then he was off, saying he would see me at the top, which he did, about 20 minutes later.
So, the point of my story is this. I did struggle, but as the man said, I found my own experience. Without pushing myself I would not have found out what I can do, and learnt that one stumble is not a reason to give up, only to find help in unlikely places. Yes there was blood and bruises from that day, but they only serve as a reminder of what I have achieved and I will miss them when they have gone.
Em x
" by Elizabeth Gilbert. Ever started reading a book and thought it must have been written with you in mind? That's what this book did to me. I cannot put it down!
" by Jenny Hart. This book has been in my collection for the past year, but somehow I could never bring myself to cut into the pages until recently. At first I was sceptical about the transfers, but they worked great and the designs are so cute and easy to stitch they are a joy to work with. In fact I need to go get some new hoops asap!
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” – Judy Blume. For the commuter who as a ten year old girl would read “Tiger Eyes” under the covers. 
” – Jane Austen. For the commuter who would gladly swap a Virgin Train for a post-chaise. 
” – Kate Summerscale. For the commuter who likes a big dollop of fact with her detective story. 
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