Musings on the fells

I started the day early and caught the bus that would take me to the first stage of today's journey. The area where I'm staying is full of mostly retired and/or elderly people. I didn't realise that until I went to wait for the bus yesterday morning. I can't blame them for choosing to live their old age in such a magnificant place in England, and I even found myself envying them because they got to spend their everyday in the midst of beauty, day in, day out. Of course, the sunny weather we've been experiencing is far from the average weather over here. After all, the deep green of hills and the moss-covered trees didn't come to look the way they do without the rain.

I got off next to a little cottage/pub with nothing else around for miles, so I thought it wise to have a coffee first. As I sat at a table in the little patio outside, I had a look at my tiny little map, which didn't really say much at all about the area I was about to explore. The sun was shinning so strong already, and I could hear the birds singing overhead in the branches... I drunk my coffee, crossed the road and started on the same trail I'd started yesterday - this time intent on going all around the most beautiful lake I've come across so far in the area.

As I walked on the pebbly path, skipping over the protruding tree roots - sometimes hopping from one bigger rock to another, just for fun - and gazed at the deep blue of the waters by my side surrounded by all these low mounts coming in all shades of brown, yellow and green, I could understand how such a place could inspire poets.

After a while spent walking merrily in the sun, I found myself at a fork: I could either continue my walk along the lake, or I could take a more daring path uphill that looked rather craggy and strenuous. I opted for the latter, of course.

That trail was a popular one. There were many people coming up and down along the way, and at some point I passed a woman who was resting midway in the climb. She must have been in her mid- to late 60's, and she said 'hi' to me as I passed her by. Next thing I knew, she was passing me as I took a rest myself from the stiff climb further up. We both laughed and then marvelled at the view from above, and before I knew it I was climbing in the company of a complete stranger who was telling me how she had now retired and came to the lakes often.

"Well, it's like this, you see," she said. "You spend most of your life working and then finally you get to rest and enjoy what's left."

Panting and gasping for air as we carried on with our climb, I could only nod pensively at her words. I glanced at her and thought: "There's a whole generation right now that's the only one to ever get to enjoy the idea of a 'pension' as society meant it." It's true. All the people who have been retiring and are retiring now are the 'lucky' ones because they get to rip what they sow and even some more. Meanwhile my generation has no idea what will happen next. Last time I checked, the government was getting the age for retirement up to 68, and it won't stop there. I wonder how much fun it would be to 'finally' be free to do anything by the time I'm 90 - that is if one even lives to be that old.

Anyway, we managed to climb to the top of one of the fells, and my... what a breathtaking view that was. I wasn't sure where to go from there, and after a little walk around, feeling on top of the world again, I asked the woman which way would be best to get back to the lake. She pointed at things on the map she was carrying and then pointed at a direction. I waved her goodbye as she was finishing a juicy pear - she was having lunch sitting against a rock while watching the valley down below. Her last words to me?

"You need to carry a map with you next time. This wonderful weather isn't the norm and you could easily get lost without a map because of the fog and whatnot," she said, shaking her head.

"Yes, Ma'm, I will," I smiled. And off I went, down the mountain and back to the lakes.

By the time I reached the village, it was late afternoon. I decided to take a stroll by the lake, where I would watch the sunset one last time before the end of my trip. As I sat on the grass near the water, gazing at the boats now so still and the low mounts running in the background, I noticed how everything around me was paired up. The freaking ducks were waddling in pairs, so were the birds, and even the frogs. Then I looked around and all I saw was people paired up or in groups. Very rarely would I see someone alone, except for the woman I met during my climb or the odd stranger passing me by. More often than not, I would only see couples or groups of people everywhere I looked. And now that I was sitting on the grass, waiting for that sunset, it was as though nature itself was showing me some more.

But then I remembered it's Spring time now, and so all the little creatures are getting paired up and I have to say it's a lovely sight. Almost. Watching frogs piggybacking each other isn't all that, I have to say.

Tomorrow is going to feel rather bittersweet. It will mark my last day before heading back to the city... I've grown increasingly aware of this notion of 'moments' in life. If anything, Life is only about them - moments. Whatever existence we may lead, the only thing that makes one's life worth living is the moments that end up filling that life. Yet moments are fleeting in essence. They can never last and are always bound to end at some point... just like my trip to the lakes. And no amount of pictures attempting to immortalise these fleeting moments in life can change that.