Hills not mountains

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I’ve been fortunate enough to fly over Everest. See snow, spindrift into the high troposphere.

Walk the Annapurna. Push past 5000m.

I’ve run up Bens and Munroes in Scotland. Marvelled at the razor peaks of the Cuillin.

Got caught once in a blizzard, metres from the top of Snøhetta. Norway in bleak white beauty.

Never warmed to Snowdon. Nor embraced Ben Nevis. Avoided the slopes of Scafell.

Not out of fear.

Out of choice.

I prefer hills.

I’ve Never, ever, avoided a hill.

Green. Rolling. Gorgeous. Human. Geological lumps on our scale. Lumps to be embraced. Admired. Loved.

Hills, not mountains.

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