Walking back to happiness — from the depths of grief to the peaks of joy!

I never understood the idea of walking for pleasure. It was a functional thing, a way to get where I wanted to go.

That all changed in 2006.

Following the death of my brother in late 2005, I became closer with my mother.

One day, tired of endless cups of tea and tears at her dining table, I asked her to take me on one of her regular, favourite walks, just up the hill from where I grew up.

As we walked, I felt a burn in my calves I’d never experienced, as I wondered if this was to be how I died, climbing a mountain for no other reason than “because we can”.

But after a while, the view opened up and I saw beauty that I didn’t know existed, just a short walk from my childhood home.

Once the climbing eased and the path flattened, I was able to breathe easier, and the burn in my muscle became almost enjoyable.

By the time we reached the summit, I was in love. With the home town I had never appreciated.

• With time well spent with my mother.
• With the beauty and awe of nature.
• And with walking as a perfect weekend activity.

Within weeks I had all the kit for mountain walking. And i had a passion and hobby that has kept me sane, given me a love of fitness and adventure, and brought unfathomable joy and connection to my life.

I’m at my happiest when I’m in my walking boots on a mountain or cliff path. What’s your happy place?

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