My legs are leaden and my mind is dull, I cannot run. I have to walk the 2.5km back to the car. 24 hours ago I breezed my way down the 3km long track, but now my shins have said “NO!”
My OMM pack lay on the floor surrounded by all the contents I was hoping to fit into it, camera gear, warm top, hat ‘n’ gloves, phone. Heavy camera goes in first, surrounded by foam inner from the other camera bag, then filters and on top of all that a fleece. In the outer pockets I stuff the hat ‘n’ gloves and a buff with an Alpkit headtorch, it all fits and is surprisingly well-balanced, I’m feeling, ‘positive’.
I’ve looked on-line and found a training schedule to get me back up to running 10+ km, because without some form of structure “Fat lazy Sofa Loving Me®” would find any number of excuses to let “Life” get in the way or “take priority” over any notion I had about getting fit again.
I decided to introduce a piece of time-saving efficiency into this particular run as well, I’d decided to walk up to one of the Tors on Dartmoor, photograph the sunset, then run back. I perused the OS map and chose Dinger Tor, it is 3km from the where I can abandon the car and bonus it will be downhill on the way back! Gotta love planning and Newton.
So kit sorted and route sorted the time of the run dictated by the sunset time minus a few minutes to set the camera up minus how long it would take to walk out the 3km (bearing in mind it was at a slight uphill all the way) I arrived at the parking spot and stepped out into the chill of the wind blowing across the Northern Moor.
The sunset wasn’t what you’d call, well anything really, it was a pretty non event. Still it felt good to have done it and I had got some shots that I knew I could work with. I repacked the little rucksack and set off down the track.
Buoyant and upbeat, I returned home, happy that running on the moor had once again lifted the blackness that grips my mind. I make coffee and babble my experience of the evening excitedly wanting to get to the computer and upload what I’ve shot.
And so I unpack, there is something missing, a small thing. I know what I have done but I think I’m tired and I really want to see the images, so I ignore my inner voice. I go to sleep knowing that voice is right. A tiny remote trigger for the camera, that is what I’ve left behind. After a fresh mug of morning coffee I recheck the pack and all the things I’d ‘unpacked’. The remote is not there.
Which is how I’m now walking the same route back to the Tor, to try to find a tiny remote somewhere near Dinger Tor. As I approach I see sheep and wild ponies and cattle. The chance of it still being there is, well, excuse the pun – remote. I settle into a well rehearsed search pattern.
I don’t hold much hope, it was a stupid mistake to make that looks likely to cost me. It wasn’t even 24hrs old,.
I find it, still laying where it had fallen amongst the close-cropped grass. Tomorrow I will be attaching a very long very orange cord to the little bugger, something akin to the ‘remove before flight’ tags.
I start back home 3km gentle downhill, but my shins will not work, the sun bleaches my vision and I settle instead into a fast walking pace, the tempo triggers my scrambled brain to play the Pixies on a loop.
Your head will collapse
If there’s nothing in it
And you’ll ask yourself
Where is my mind
Where is my mind
Where is my mind