The Long March
It was not what I had envisaged. Some easy stroll along the valley where trains would run had been my picture taking in the magic scenery missed by so many when steam was king. I had brought no boots and the clothes I wore were for a Sunday party with children and the vicar offering tea.Within an hour and clad in what clothes they could lend me, the mud had overwhelmed me and legs which had once tired after a day's march were hard pushed to carry me beyond the hour. When we stopped to eat a snack on the summit I little knew how much further we had to go and how unwilling would be those legs to take me there.
posted by Weasel @ 3:46 PM
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