Sometimes your own advice comes back to haunt you.

It’s been a particularly tough time in my life recently and I have been seeking ways to cope with this if not quite being able to make sense of it. Keeping busy seems to me the best way at the moment,

Buoyed by the sight of a Tawny Owl near our house the night before, I was ready for a bit of a change and a wildlife adventure. Our destination for the day was Morven*, near Aboyne in Aberdeenshire.

I was hopeful, though not entirely sure that I’d get to the top but I thought I’d give it a good try. Blue skies above, an eagle circling, what a wonderful way to begin. I would say it was sort of a gentle start, following the path up to the ruins of an old house. Who had lived there? What stories would they have had to tell? What was the grinding stone used for?

Onwards and upwards, panting already, breaking the silence. To be honest, the next part felt like a bit of a slog, like the hard work that sets in after your initial enthusiasm, when you just have to knuckle down and get on with it. This was when I was offered my own advice back to me – ‘chunk it’ – well, there you go. It was all I could do. This was a 300m, contours on the map squished together, steep section, a one foot in front of the other slow progress.

But now I have learnt that it doesn’t matter how fast I am. We were well prepared in terms of food, water and clothes, had plenty of time to complete (or not!) the climb and so I took my time. There were frequent stops to ‘take in the view’.

Stopping to sit on a rock for a snack, the scenery was stunning. I gazed, entranced, at the patchwork of fields stretching into the distance. September and many of the fields ploughed but still golden. Three grouse appeared, heads bobbing above the heather and letting their presence be known. Solitary bees, the occasional butterfly. One tree by the path to provide some welcome shade.

The next section thankfully wasn’t quite so steep. The joy of being able to walk on the almost flat, being able to look up and about at the beautiful countryside. A lull before the next storm right enough.

Ah, but of course, there had to be, a false summit. Just when I thought I had reached the top, there was more to come. I didn’t think I could do it. This was time for desperate measures – an early lunch and a chance to regroup. Time for a bit of much needed encouragement.

I’d got this far. I knew in my head I could do it. This time I could see the summit, the real one that is. Slowly, slowly, one step at a time and we got there.

I felt like Maria in The Sound of Music – I wanted to sing if only I had the breath left!

In the distance were hills I’ve climbed, some recently, some long ago, Bennachie, Clachnaben, Mount Keen, Lochnagar. I’m not so sure I could get to the top of some of them nowadays but I’m mighty chuffed I have done in the past and have some cracking memories from those times. Now it was definitely time for a few windswept selfies.

And so to the descent, not all plain sailing. There were a few times I stopped to use my Seek App – was that an excuse for a break? Tiny yellow flowers of Tormentil and delicate lavender coloured Devil’s – bit Scabious growing at the mouth of a clear stream enticed me. Why, when they are so pretty do they have such harsh names?

So, not by any means the highest hill out there but a real test for me, could I take my own advice? Could I chunk it? Well, yes, I could but I was very, very grateful for all the help along the way. And now, onwards, through the dips, the slogs, the plateaus, enjoying the highs and battling through the lows and appreciating all the support. Thank you.

*Morven is a Corbett – a Scottish mountain over 2,500 and under 3,000 feet.

I am reading.

The Shadow Sister by Lucinda Riley

American Dirt by Jeanine Cummins

The Pure Heart by Trudi Tweedie