Regrets. Sometimes the only way is to soldier on through. It’s a cold, damp, dark morning and about now is when the first bout of regret always hits. 24 hours and I'll be on my way, cramped into a brightly lit train speeding up the northern mainline. For now though I’m sat comfortable and warm; protected from the harsh outdoors by the double-glazed trappings of an easy life. Until yesterday it was all excitement, to be back in the mountains, to explore new ground, to work towards a goal for no other reason than to see if I’m capable. One of the main draws of camping and trekking to me is the immediacy of your existence, the way that worries for your future or your past, the greater picture of your life, are all replaced by
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