Saturday, 14 February 2009


...of my mind, and definitely not of my feet.

Not that I wouldn't love, simply love, to be rambling over the mountains this weekend. I was invited to a weekend of winter walking in Snowdownia, but turned it down as I needed to be at home with my family, especially after being away so much recently, and with Rach 38 weeks pregnant... yes, I hear you all ask, was there ever really an option to go walking. No, not really.

Anyway, I love winter climbing - usually Scotland somewhere - and so Snowdownia was going to be a great weekend, as I haven't been out in a couple of years. And it looked especially exciting, what with all the snow over the past few weeks. However, all that was before I heard about how some climbers have been killed on Snowdon this week, and how the continues are extreme and treacherous.

There's a part of every climber that, on hearing that information, simply wants to get out there and see how bad (read 'exciting', 'thrilling' etc.) it really is.

But not this time. With a baby on the way, and the sobering news of two brothers (both with young or imminent families) dying in the past week, I know I made the right decision. Nobody could every call me risk averse, but on this occasion, I feel that discretion is the better part of valour.

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