Why do I go walking?
It’s freezing cold up on Dartmoor, and the wind howls right through you. The weather’s atrocious – storms are violent and terrifying, and the rain is like ice. When it’s been raining for a couple of days, the rivers are so swollen it’s crazily dangerous to cross. And often you have to wade through them, waist-deep, frozen water pouring into your walking boots.
Your bag weighs as much as a large child, dragging you down; your cheeks are stinging from the slap of the wind; and your feet are cold and damp and disgustingly blistered.
Because of the five other people you’re with – their banter and jokes and the teamwork makes everything easier. Because of the amazing feeling you get when you’ve finished. Because it’s something that I’m very proud of. Because Dartmoor is beautiful – untamable, unpredictable, unreliable and truly beautiful.
I go walking because it’s amazing!
EDIT: Just found out that the tempreture on the moors this weekend will be -15 wind chill! Wish me luck!