I went to Edale again. It had been almost a year since my last visit. I was supposed to go with a friend but because she fell ill, I had to travel Solo (I’m not talking Han). I knew the journey there all too well. Board the train to Sheffield that leaves Manchester Piccadilly every hour at ten-to, 45 minutes later and you’re there, slap bang in the Peak District. A short walk from the train station and I found myself on the same route that I had walked before. It was a fair, old trek from what I remember clocking in at about 15KM’s but the weather was perfect, so I was here for it.

Whilst Ascending I got a call from my mate in London. The Daily call to talk about the curses and blessings of life seemed all too familiar. The subject of this conversation revolved around me convincing him to pay for my night out in London with some of his illustrious and well-paid friends. The exercise seemed futile and resulted in a strong no, however it helped me forget about the ascent, so proved useful. As I got to the top, it was very evident that my t shirt was soaked through with sweat. There hadn’t been much of a breeze so cooling down was proving particularly challenging. I tied the t shirt to my backpack and decided to let it dry off in the suns heat. This worked well as by the time I was ready to descend Jacob’s Ladder it was nice and dry. Making my way around the circular trail above, I recalled the footsteps and particular rocks that I had passed by a year before.

It had been hatching season from what I could see as all the flying ants were crawling about the rocks. They didn’t prove to be much of a nuisance in the end, making only for the occasional swat of the hand. Not having done much trail running in the months previous I only dabbled in that form of exercise on the hike. I was cautious of not twisting an ankle as the lack of practice could have rendered them weak. To make the walk harder, I decided to hold off on any food or beverage until I had hit the 10KM mark. Making up to the point of ascension was nearly 5KM so doing another 5K seemed manageable.

Once I hit the 10KM mark I immediately stopped for a heavy gulp of water, a cliff bar and a very timely banana. Whilst trying to enjoy the view and the recently consumed nutrition, I became a local hot spot for the flying ants so decided to go on my merry way. I still couldn’t quite see Jacob’s Ladder so I asked two on coming hikers if they had ascended that way. They replied with a kind “Yes” and after bit of map-pointing later, we established it was about another 3KM.

A quick 3KM later and there I was once again, at the top of the Ladder. I had just missed two mountain bikers who had begun their descent. I would poop bricks if I had to descend by bike, it certainly wasn’t for the faint hearted. Making my way down, I let myself gather some speed as I’d recently found out that stopping your momentum too much on a downhill section was quite bad for the knees. This seemed to work well because not 5 minutes later, I raised my head up and realised I was at the bottom. Strava seemed to back up my quick descent too, receiving a shiny Gold Medal for my quickest descent to-date. Sure, I was far off first place but that was nae bother.

Unfortunately, the walk back to Edale seemed to drag on as I would usually have run this section in order to make it for the train. However, I had time to kill, which meant a pint at the Ramblers Inn. I had always walked past the pub but never stopped for a libation. My casual drinking days were few and far between but today seemed like a perfect day for a pint of cider. “Pint of water and a pint of cider please mate”. He looked at my ‘Another happy climber’ Frog T shirt and proceeded to pour me my liquids. Waiting for my drinks, a man seemed to struggle keeping control of his dog. He’d lost the lead at the top of Mam Tor and wasn’t exactly keen to go rushing back for it. I didn’t mind and neither did the other people dotted about the pub. The dog was just having a nose about as it was designed to.

I sat down alone and sank the glass of water so as to not finish the cider off too quickly. It didn’t work. Although I was no longer as thirsty which was nice. With time to spare, I strolled to the Train Station which was literally round the corner. The sun was setting as I sat down on the gravel platform. Another successful hike, another solo hike. A few hours to think and gather my thoughts. It was quiet up there on the hill tops, which reflected the current noise levels in my head.

The train ride back was fun. All the windows were open, so the breeze was more than pleasant. There was another curious dog lay down in front of me. He would scan the carriage, but I couldn’t make of what he saw. Sometimes I wasn’t sure of what I was seeing myself. I could see it but often wouldn’t give it much more than a fleeting thought. I’d save that for the more important things, like where would I hang up my 6ft, French Lord of the Rings poster. A thought that frequently crossed my mind these last few weeks. I suppose I’ll stop wondering once I’ve figured it out.

I was at Piccadilly now and my thirstiness has subsided into hunger. I headed to Ancoats Square thinking a Rudy’s would sort me right out only to change my mind. A burrito seemed more fitting. Wolfing down this burrito with a two-litre bottle of sparkling water whilst trapsing along Oxford Road, was the last image that stayed with me that evening. The Bus didn’t really seem with today’s trip, so I walked home instead. I headed for the shower and hit the hay. ‘A good day wasn’t it’, I thought, drifting off to sleep.

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