Tag Archives: Hill

Climb a Mountain

I stopped writing. I lost my way and the words dried up. I lost what little zest for life I had. But its time to shake off that shroud and reclaim my life and hopefully, writing can again be a part of that.

Close to where I live, a motorway was dug out about 40 years ago and with no alternative arrangement, all the excess ground and soil was just piled up to form 2 small hills. Great in winter when it snows for the kids. For some unknown reason, I had never ventured up either of these ‘hills’.  But recently, we took the plunge and climbed them both. I use the term climbed very loosely. They sit at the north end of the Town Moor and the 360 degree panoramic views took my breath away. Why the hell had we never been here before? Anyway, with backpack, sarnies and a notebook and the bins, we did it and had a great conversation with a little boy flying a kite. No one flies kites these days.

Somehow, I found some inspiration up there and felt an itch coming back. Coupled with a dear friend who is having a very tough time, I felt the urge to write again this am. So here I am, back trying to write something of sense and worth. This is for Sukes in the hope that she can climb her mountain and escape what is her life right now.

Climb A Mountain

Robotic tigers growl their displeasure,
The ebb and flow of mechanized beasts
puncture the delicate silence,
Climb a mountain to behold the maginificent
sea of tranquility, elevated,
from a cacophonous world.

Azure skies imprison my gaze,
Gentle breezes caress my greying temples,
Distant, lowing beasts of burden, coalesce
Skylarks jubliant songs,
could heaven quarter
images so extravagant?

Panoramic landscapes, north, south,
east and west.

East, white horses stampede uninterupted sands,
West, gossamer clouds cap distant fells,
North, The Cheviot holds dominion,
South to the realms of the Prince Bishops.

This concrete jungle of oppression
Crowds its presence,
Blinding the sights of the many,
To the wonders beyond the barricades.

If only they would,
Climb a mountain to,
break their trammels.


Where it says Town Moor, they are the two ‘hills’ to which I refer. That shot doesn’t show all the land that makes up the Town Moor, theres a lot more to it. In the middle of a city and suburbs, we are damned lucky to have such a haven.


My Spiritual Home

I guess this will turn into something of a history lesson if I allow it and to be honest, maybe thats what it deserves. So instead of making this a very long winded piece, I shall just put links up where I deem necessary and it shall be up to you dear reader whether you wish to delve further or not. I shall though, just add snipets of information here and there, just to help understand the piece.

I guess my life thus far has been a search, not only for myself, but for my own spiritual essence. I dont believe in God as such, but deep in the hills of Northumberland, England, I think I am closer to “God” than anywhere else. I just love getting losy in the Cheviot Hills. I would live there if I could, happily, spending my days roaming the hills and valleys. I feel at ease with myself there and at ease with the world. Nowhere else gives me that, that I have found anyway.

Since I became ill, I have not been back to my spiritual home. I miss it terribly, so does my partner. But, on June 19th, we have booked a holiday cottage there and will spend a full week, in the shadow of Humbleton Hill and we will enjoy every second of it. I can’t wait to get there now and enjoy the peace and tranquility I have missed these last 3 years.

I have used a little poetic licence here, but in effect, it is not far from the reality that I have bent slightly.

Upon the hill I fix my gaze,
on bracken deep and sheep that graze,

gliders swoop akin to birds in flight,
across the vista of this wonderous sight.

the old hill fort of days long gone,
battered by winds, rain and sun,

just a hill now I love to climb,
as it stands in defiance of old father time.

looking east toward the coast,
as I sit atop my humble host,

looking north to the Border Reivers domain,
to battlefields, where their enemies were slain.

looking south across the Pennine Way,
a longer climb for another day.

looking west across the rolling hills,
toward the land of dark, satanic mills,

across panoramic views, I let my eye roam,
as I stand once more, atop, my spiritual home.

A few explanations here methinks.

I am referring to a place called Humbleton Hill, in the Cheviot Hills of Northumberland.

The Border Reivers were a band of nomads who inhabited the English/Scottish border areas from the 13th to the 16th centuries. A very interesting people, they are still referred to today in the area.


I make reference to a Hill Fort, which many of these hills were around the bronze and iron age. Arial photographs show the contours of the land that are not visable at ground level. These photographs show the remains of settlements and how they were constructed.


I also mention The Pennine Way. This is a footpath that follows what we call the Spine of England, the Pennine Hills. It is 267 miles long and stretches from Derbyshire [Edale] and ends in the Borders or Eng/Sco [Kirk Yetholm].


I also refer to gliders. There is a gliding school not far from the hill and at weekends, you can sit all day watching them coming and going. I never tire of seeing them.

Last but not least, I mention the “land of dark, satanic mills”. This is geographically incorrect. Due west would be Cumbria and Dumfries and Galloway. But South West you can see the area referred to in William Blakes original poem, Jeruselem. This poem has now become a hymn,  synonymous with England and its people. If you wish to read the poem,


Or, if you prefer to listen to it being sung,

So there ends this piece. I am proud of where I live. I am lucky to have what we have so close at hand, yet so far away since I am not allowed to drive anymore on medical grounds.

I hope you take a little time to explore some of the links I have posted, I am sure you wont be disappointed.

Toodle Pip

Submitted to Victoria’s MMWP