4. Fear Flatulence and Gravity

Fear, irrational

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A certain amount of 'atmosphere' goes with the territory for those of us who wild camp or work in remote places: swirling mists, sinister looking shapes viewed through the dusk, scufflings and animal sounds maybe, and a general feeling of isolation. These can vary from the pleasantly spooky to the outright chilling. Or -  no sound at all! A friend and I once wild camped at the place reputed to be the location of the novel, Wuthering Heights. It was one of the stillest nights I have ever experienced. If the ghosts of Heathcliff and Catherine had come out for a mumble, however quietly, I could not have missed it. I prayed for the the wind to get up to mask any haunting that might be going on.

Of course, it is all in the mind. My friend Yatterclack had an irrational fear that, if he looked out of his tent at night, there would be something looking back at him.

Often, the duvets one is provided with in guest houses and hostels are too short. Being moderately tall I find that, if I pull the thing up to my chin, my feet are exposed. If I make sure my feet are covered, my shoulders get cold. So I end up in a foetal position, which soon becomes uncomfortable.

What has this to do with fear? I hear you ask. Well, I have a confession to make. I fear the Ankle Grabber! Even in the safety of my own bed at home, if a foot breaks through the very secure tucking-in at the end, it quivers with hypersensitive anticipation. I expect at any moment to have my ankle grasped by bony fingers, the sole of my foot to be tickled, teeth to bite my great toe, or to feel some creature brush by. I have to have the 'Be a man now' conversation in my head, of course, where I attempt to ignore the situation and drift back to sleep. It seldom works. My imagination conjures up all sorts of dreadful creatures milling about under cover of darkness, inexplicably fascinated by my foot. Once, when I did get back to sleep again I dreamt straight away that a wild looking ginger haired man had grabbed my ankle and was trying to drag me out of my bed. Breathless with terror, I did what I should have done at the start: got out and re-made the bed.

(My dad was a wild looking ginger haired man, but it was definitely not him. I know well enough what it's like to be dragged out of bed by him.)

There are often wild looking ginger haired men in hostels

Flatulence

It is bad form to bang off in a tent.

G

Gravity

The hill walker and Gravity are in a state of constant war. We strive to grow up; gravity pulls us down. 

                                        The hill walker strives to go up; gravity pulls him down.

My friend Jobson made light of gravity and paid a terrible price.

He should have done what I always do. I stand on my head for an hour or two after each walking expedition so that the fabric of my body can settle back into its original position. Be careful not to overdo this precaution though: look out for shrinking of the lower limbs and swelling of the head, and if you detect them, desist immediately.