The Wrong Way
“Which way shall we go?” I asked, in all innocence.
We were looking at the map and planning the days walk on the hills.
My companion looked at me like I was stupid.
“The path, what other way can we go?” she said.
Ah.
I like to climb hills the wrong way. It’s something I’ve done all my life without realising it. Look at a map, decide a ridge looks nice, and go up it, whether it has a path marked or not. (You can do this in the UK, where the hills usually aren’t covered in jungly vegetation.)
During the coronavirus, the wrong way has been a godsend. By going the way I wanted to go, rather than the most popular way-marked path that 90% of visitors on a hill go, I’ve been able to avoid the summer crowds and congestion.
Going the wrong way has given me wildlife encounters I wouldn’t get on busy routes, and opportunities to practice navigation and hillcraft that the presence of crowds diminishes.
But it turns out I am only an accidental wrong-wayer.
