I find myself in Cleveland for the second weekend running (the Scout camp is here and both kids have joined since our return.) This time I’m here alone. And this time it’s not a weekend camp, but rather the South Korea Jamboree selection day…and I am just here as ‘taxi of Mum’.  

So, I have 3 hours. To myself. And it’s sunny. In England. North Yorkshire, to be precise. Yes, that’s right, you heard me correctly – the sun is shining! In March. And on a Saturday. In fact, the sky could not be bluer!  

I’ve dropped off #1 child and her friend and I am free, free as a bird. And this does not happen often, I can tell you. I consult my sister, who knows the area much better than me, and I know exactly what I’m going to do with my luxurious time. 

I’m going to climb Roseberry Topping. 

Even the drive from Carlton in Cleveland, through Great Ayton to Newton under Roseberry, is stunning. Such picturesque stone cottages, signal red post boxes, sunny yellow daffodils and village greens. Quintessential English scenery in Spring. Yorkshire at its finest.  

I park up in Newton, put on my walking boots, check the water and snacks in my rucksack, set the route tracking app, select a playlist, put my sunnies on (yes it’s still sunny) and I set off up the hill. 

The exhilaration of the climb is intoxicating. The strong winds, the steep steps, the lush, green fields as far as the eye can see and the sheer size of the blue, blue sky… 

The exertion feels good. I have to keep stopping for water and a breath, but the climb is like Nyambadwe Hill in Malawi, but with paths! (Amazing how much easier it is when someone has carefully carved a stony way and placed actual steps up the hillside!) 

Many others had had the same idea; couples walking dogs, families with young children, a few lone walkers like me. Mostly, I couldn’t hear the chatter and chats around me, as I had my earphones in. The beat of the drum, the stirring lyrics and the familiar tunes spur me on, as the climb gets steeper.

As the climb gets steeper, the views are more and more spectacular. The village is tiny now, down below. I can no longer see the carpark or the pub, nestled somewhere at the foot of the hill. The surrounding hills are majestic and I know that I can almost smell the ocean…but not quite…the sunshine and the recent rain make the distant view a hazy one. Perhaps this makes the scenery more atmospheric in the mystery of the blurred edges. 

I take my phone repeatedly, to try to capture this moment. Can I seize this beauty, this uplift, this freedom, in a camera frame? Of course, I can’t.  

What do I do instead? I internalise my sense of playful liberty so that I can treasure it through the coming week. 

And I sit down and write a blog, so that I can capture the time I spent 3 hours by myself (at the end of a very long week) up a hill, with the wind and the sun for company.