“Climb the mountain not to plant your flag, but to embrace the challenge, enjoy the air and behold the view. Climb it so you can see the world, not so the world can see you.” ― David McCullough Jr.
Climbing a mountain seems to be many things for many people. For me it reminds me of my childhood where every holiday come rain or shine my father took us to the mountains in the north of England and Scotland. We’d camp in the wilderness, drink from mountain streams, cook the food we’d carried, and climb. Sometimes we’d have gentle walks to mountain lakes, sometimes we’d abseil down rock faces, and sometimes we’d even go deep into the earth and discover the caves and potholes in that part of the world. It was terrifying for a young boy, but also amazingly exciting and I got to see things other children of my age couldn’t even imagine. I once spent a whole afternoon playing in the shell of a crashed wartime bomber. But this was many years ago and life has changed a lot since then.
Nowadays my life is obviously very different. I’m grown up, survived my 20s and generally consider myself very lucky. One plus is that I don’t actually drink alcohol very often, I no longer feel the need… in fact, by most people’s standards I don’t drink at all. It’s not like I restrict myself to one glass of wine, or half a beer with a pizza, I just don’t drink. I’m not anti drinking either. If you ask any of my old friends they’ll probably tell you that I used to drink a lot, and I did. But I guess I’m what you’d call a social drinker. If I’m in a situation where everyone is drinking and I’m somehow part of that, I’ll do it. And I never get grumpy or down or nasty, I just get happy! And if I drink a lot, I get very happy… too happy!
Nowadays I just don’t socialize that much. I’m not really ever in the situation where I want to or feel the need to drink. I don’t go to pubs or bars or clubs, I don’t even feel like a cool beer on a hot evening in the garden. I’m sure this sounds very healthy and responsible... but it’s not, because when I do drink, it’s like I have no way of knowing I’ve gone too far, and when I have gone too far, I’m too happy to turn back!
So what’s this got to do with climbing a mountain? Last weekend it was a combined birthday celebration here in the village and this included my very good friend Dušan. I’ve been through quite a lot with Dušan. I first met him probably when I arrived here at No 19. I couldn’t really speak Czech, I didn’t really know anyone, I’d just left my life in Milan and I was feeling pretty lonely. Then one day this smiling teenager turned up asking if I needed any odd jobs doing… 6 years later I was a witness at his wedding, then godfather to his daughter. I love Dušan very much so I wouldn’t turn down an invitation to his birthday and I had a wonderful time. The downside was that I was left with a horrendous hangover.
I remember hangovers in my 20s and although they weren’t pleasant, I managed to laugh about them next day. In my 30s I’d take it easy for a day or so. Now in my late 40s I spent the whole of Sunday unable to even look at people in case I was sick. Monday morning was also pretty painful… so when on Monday afternoon my friend Jitka suggested we take her two sons and climb Ronov, a local volcano shaped mountain, I was a little skeptical.
It was a hot afternoon and we prepared ourselves with bottled water and appropriate clothing. Ronov isn’t a huge mountain, I guess some might call it a large hill, but it sticks out of the landscape like a pimple and can be seen for miles around. We drove to the nearest point where we could leave the car and started waking the path towards our goal which was lined with wild roses, flowers and amazing trees. There were high fields of wheat, and meadows of flowers between the tall Oaks and Beach trees. If you had to imagine a fairytale, this was it.
As we wound our way up the slopes at the base of Ronov, we could see glimpses of stone walls reaching above and beyond the tallest of trees covering the summit. Not a huge amount is known about this 15 century gothic castle, apart from it was attacked and burnt down by invading Swedes in 1645.
As we walked we talked, Jitka’s sons speak English pretty well and with my bad Czech the conversation flowed from one subject to another as we went deeper into the woods. At one point we passed an endless patch of wild Foxgloves, then a field of hay bails which sloped steeply away over villages and hills and on into the distance.
I’m quite a keen walker now, and don’t really tire easily, but the hangover was starting to try and convince me to give up, call it a day and turn back. I couldn’t give in to this feeling, I had to go on. There was no way I could go this far and not get to the top. The higher we went, the steeper the climb became until the path was suddenly a series of craggy steps that indicated we were close to the top. I turned a corner and through a clearing in the trees I saw a truly amazing view. It’s at this point I realized the climb had cleared my head, freshened my senses, and essentially cured my hangover. I’m not sure if it was the exercise, or the clean air, or the mountain itself, but I felt truly amazing.
The castle at the top would once have been pretty large. Although there wasn’t much left, there were still tall basalt walls reaching up to the sky. Holes, where once windows overlooked the forests and woodlands of this ancient country, now looked down onto a seemingly unchanged landscape where only the odd new house hinted at modernity. It was amazing, truly amazing and Ronov knew it. A mountain so old, so beautifu, so wise, has to have a soul of some kind, and climbing it somehow put everything into perspective. When faced with that kind of beauty, that magic, everything pales in comparison.
We spent some time at the top exploring the castle walls and crumbling towers. Pathways cut into wild flowers and long grass led us around this labyrinth of rock and greenery. One moment we were looking down a soft slope, turn a corner and we were on the edge of a cliff… and surrounding us was the endless ribbon of fields, mountains, and tiny villages in every direction. There’s nothing like it!
Climb a mountain! And if you’re not totally feeling yourself, even better, climb a mountain! 💚
