Sheep, cows and mountains - Hiking in the Peak District

When I started this blog, I wanted to write about the things that hold my life together, that move me forward. In short, the things that sometimes make a person a person. There are moments in life when you truly realise the beauty of life and the people in it. There are moments when you can still surprise yourself.

Well, I've just returned from an incredible week spent in northern England, hiking in the Peak District and a stint in Manchester. It felt like a month and a day at the same time, over in the blink of an eye but yet jam-packed with amazing experiences. The kind of experiences that belong in a box of inspiration.

We went on several ten to 12-mile hikes in the Dark Peak and the White Peak, walking and climbing for up to seven hours a day. We climbed up Stanage Edge - it was the first time I climbed to the top of a hill. Carrying a nine-kilogram backpack, it was exhausting and there were several moments when I just wanted to lie down and cry or sleep, anything but keep walking. And then, when you get to the top and you feel the instant temperature drop when the wind tugs at your hair and see greyish clouds streaking across the sun, it evaporates. The whole climb up, your screaming muscles, even your sweaty face - they just disappear, to be replaced with a glorious, warm feeling of accomplishment. From that moment on, I just wanted more of it.

That day, we climbed up to more hills that felt like mountains to me. On one particularly steep slope, I felt the limits of my body so clearly, my shaking muscles and quick breath, it was terrrifying. But then, to find someone next to you, pushing you on, making you reach that little bit further, you crawl over that limit. I must admit, it was the people that got me to the top of that hill. I felt nauseated, my vision was blurred, but I'd did it. And that is the single-most wonderful experience ever. Enjoying it with all the others made it that much better.

After a few days of hiking, you feel your body settling into a rhythm. The countryside is calming for the spirit, walking for miles and miles is so natural. One becomes more sensitive to the little things: a river twisting far below in a narrow gorge, glittering in the late-afternoon light. The Peak District is beautiful: the landscape is ever-changing, with rolling hills changing into winding dales and leaf-strewn woods. There are stony bridleways and muddy fields and primeval-looking, moss-covered valleys. One gets used to having a group of sweaty hikers and lots of sheeps and cows for company. It doesn't matter what your room looks like as long as there's a bed, you start appreciating every meal, every drop of water. There is a feeling of going back to the roots, of getting closer to your innermost self, a quiet that spreads over you.

The first part of this trip was truly magical, a real lesson in knowing your own strength and stretching it to breaking-point. I learned a lot about myself, about my willpower and endurance - it was truly inspirational.

Love, x