I am not sure we scared him.
It was more that he did not understand that people could exist over the edge.
It had been a peculiar sort of day.
At previous sunset we had walked up over the toe of Ramshaw Rocks and submitted our votive offerings in the hope of a good day on the rounded sanquine grit.
It was dry and cold, everything looked good..
Morning came through one too many Bunnahabhain, a quick breakfast in Lognor.
It looked wet.
Over the moor road the summit wrapped in mist, optimism flagging
Ramshaw was washed out, the Roaches look ok.... change of plan
At these moments hope springs eternal everywhere was obviously wet and unclimbable but there was bound to be one dry line..right?
The Shropshire plain's watery winter sunlight, infilled by rising cloud to break around the end of the North, condensing droplets ran off every granule ..No climbing today.
So time to have a scoot around, I have been wanting to look at the five clouds for ages so tension broken, easy conversation with old friends we walked and talked, pausing to look at compelling lines, working out placements, catching up.
Slow in it's effect. We didn't notice the change for a while
Around us the wild crowded out mild experience, alone in moss covered heather and thick leaved Crowberries we started to phase out, back into an older world taking our easy friendship deeper into the lost forest.
Over the wall, broken trees, thick moss, a seeking blustery wind hid the sound of hunting velociraptors.
Up to our waists in moss scrabbling up the broken banking slipping and sliding on jumbled rocks.
Above us the zigzag line of Art Nouveau calling us upwards.
Crazy trees leaning away from normality, a mazed rock pathway, nearly lost forever..
As we pulled crazily over the top the little boy stopped wide eyed, his mother unaware of our sudden appearance.
We had broken back through the membrane into suburban Sunday walking..
We all smiled at the change
Like I said, I don't think we scared him.
He just didn't understand that people could exist over the edge