Mountain Writing,  Running,  Running Writing,  Writing

The Ridge, To Hope


Car park; drop off,
jump out; car door, shut.
Wave K off,


Mam Tor
steps steep past scowling tourists.
Quick, tap summit view guide
then skedaddle
fell shoes scarting on
crumbling paving slabs
where grass once grew.

Run on

Down now –
more people;
polite good afternoons
with a prep school party.

Hollins Cross, tap 

Run on

over the hump –
second col of the day.
There are clouds over Kinder.

Eat a jelly baby,
trade another for chocolate.
There’s water in the wind.
But I’ve got a good coat,
but it’s in the car with K.

Run on

Back Tor calls,
Mam Tor’s miniature mirror.
Steep, hands on thighs,
rough eroded steps;
the path is much the same.

A DPFR vest flies down
“We’re gonna get wet”

Atop the tor,
familiar solitary tree
whistling in the building wind.

Run on

Drop fast, to
third col of the afternoon.
Clouds are closer now.

Run on

But no carried speed for
Lose Hill; last climb –
hands back on thighs, push
there’s a storm to race.

Top of the hill, fresh
wind drying sweat,
carrying rain.


Run on

Fast descent,
down to Hope;
leaving clouds behind.

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