Tanya Oliver - From High Heels to High Hills: One woman walking the Lake District - in her own style

The things that make me different are the things that make me, me.

Winnie-the-Pooh (A. A. Milne, 1928)

I looked up at the ascent of Jacks Rake again with my bruised arms and knees already feeling sore. If I am honest, I ivas actually very scared. What on earth was I doing here? And why on my own? What ivas I thinking? I am not a rock-climber and have never wanted to be one. This danger was entirely self-inflicted. At that moment I would have gladly traded my walking boots for heels and a glass of champagne somewhere. Going back down was not an option so I had to keep going. Again I took some deep breaths to steady my nerves and looked up at the rocks in front of me. (See : My Favourite Fells (Part II) to see how this turns out)

I must be the only person who, when packing for a hiking trip to the Lake District, packs three pairs of high heels just in case. Well honestly, you just never know! Tucked right alongside the heels though are a pair of sturdy and robust hiking boots.

I am Kentish born and bred and now live in Sussex, so I am truly southern. However, for many holidays when I was growing up we headed north to the Lake District and I loved it. My great grandmother on my mums side used to travel to the Lake District to paint, so my family has a long association with the area. I will confess that between the ages of 7 and 14, climbing mountains was hardly my first choice of activity. My mum and dad must have been saints listening to the constant tirade of Are we nearly there yet? and This is sooooo steep! But I always got to the top and when up there, forgot how hateful the climb was and loved being on top of the world. I must have got the bug somehow, despite my protestations, as now I am an adult, climbing mountains is my addiction.

So why do I do it? Climbing mountains is hard work and even though I am quite fit, sometimes, on the way up, I will admit to feeling that it is a real strain and effort to get to the next milestone. At these moments, I have what I call view stops. Even without needing a break though, one of the main points of climbing mountains for me is the views. The Lake District is beautiful and looks stunning at any level from your car, the tops of buses or on low-level walks. But when up in the mountains, the views are, quite simply, spectacular even on a wet or misty day there is something eerie and mystical about them. Wordsworth and Coleridge captured some of the magic and romance of the Lakes in their poems, and I can see how they fell in love with them.

Mystical Wastwater.

I read a book recently by Alastair Lee called Lake District Mountain Landscape (2010) and something he said rang true for me:

Much of the fells subtle beauty derives from their soft, more intimate human scale, compared to higher mountains.

Whilst I can admire the scale of the Himalayas and other major mountain ranges, I have no desire to climb them (although I always find it interesting to read about others that have). The mountains in the Lake District are older than the ranges in Europe, America and Asia, which I had not realised. Apparently they used to be in league with the Himalayas (about half a billion years ago!) but have worn down over time. How amazing is that?

The views around Wastwater are probably my favourite overall. They bring back memories of happy childhood days sitting in the river that feeds the lake, and of going out onto the little island with a picnic. I have always found the screes at Wastwater awe-inspiring and a little scary (in a good way). Combined with Great Gable, Yewbarrow and the Scafells, I believe the area is one of natures most magical.