We’re 2,400m above sea level, our heads are in the clouds, our feet are hitting the high mountain trails. The summer air is thick with the scent of honeysuckle, my fillings are singing and my hair is standing on end.That can only mean one thing, there’s a storm a-coming.
One minute it’s bright and sunny and the clouds are white and fluffy. The next, the clouds have turned an angry shade of grey and, if I’m not mistaken, look rather peeved. I definitely wouldn’t want to mess with them. In the distance there’s a sinister rumble, and it’s not just Noel’s stomach.
A white curtain is being drawn across the valley, everything in its wake is very shiny and very wet. I want to stop and watch, the live weather show is an amazing spectacle, and it’s free! But hanging around isn’t wise, the mountain isn’t tame.
We head for low ground, the storm following, poking us with flashes of lightening and cracks of thunder. Do you know how much thunder echoes around a valley? A lot, bloody hell a lot. Do you know how much water a cloud can empty in just five minutes? Enough to fill a rucksack left open, that’s how much. Thank goodness these storms never last for long. Thank goodness for Gore Tex and Smart Wool and glory be for the safety of the valley with its many coffee and cake establishments where we can laugh and pretend we weren’t really scared.