Its an Anniversary of sorts – Thirty years ago – On a cold February day I was dragged up to Castleton with the folks for a freezing mooch around slush and sheep shit and mud in the High Peak. To listen to some old geezer drone on about the ‘unique qualities’ of a dull bit of purple rock and to raise my eyes up past a little dingy cave to a high cliff where hardy figures stood in the mist and rain and looked down on us lesser mortals
Its where my brother triumphantly declared that he had had found a semi-dead sheep in the gulley, and I finally embraced the fact that I might be one of those accursed, outcast people that one day would be called a ‘Hiker’
roypollard 