We had our weekend planned. Saturday working, Sunday skiing.
All things considered, not a bad weekend by normal standards. The working Saturday involved grass cutting, seed sowing, weeding, finishing the new kit room. The Sunday skiing was to be ski hiking back country. But, mid kit room organising, late in the afternoon, he said "let's go on a micro-adventure".
So, instead of stacking the kit on the shelves, we shoved it into the rucksacks, the freezer was raided for a pre-prepared ready meal, the cupboards were sought for wooly hats, gloves and extra layers, and the thermals were put on under our jeans. We scooped up Finn the dog along the way.
We camped no more than 3 miles away from home, somewhere we pass so many times each week, either walking the dog or out running, but we arrived in a different world.
Our tent was pitched in the woods that was a stones throw from a path we know so well, yet a million miles from our normal world. This is the surreal world of the Microadventure. And this is a pictorial account of how a very average weekend suddenly became the best weekend ever, and one that we'll remember forever.
|A walk up a very familiar hill, with a very unfamiliar objective|
|Quite a climb, but here's our secret spot in the woods|
|Ready for anything the night may throw at me.|
|Plastic beaker of wine in hand and time to watch to sun go down|
|The joy of just sitting and watching.|
|No hurry at all. Just enjoy.|
|But we needed to get warm and fed, |
and eventually the fire was burning nicely
|Fed and warmed, think it's time for bed|
|Feeling the warmth of the rising sun|
|Slowly the black & white world of the night became the|
technicolour world of the day
|A sleepy world, slowly awakens|
|And breakfast calls! But what is a #microadventure|
without a bubbling coffee pot first thing in the morning?
|...and what is a #microadventure without a good old fashioned English breakfast|
|of ham & fresh free range eggs cooked |
in the great outdoors with cold noses & rosy cheeks
|Someone is a little exhausted by his impromptu expedition|
|...so maybe it's time to go home |
and finish the jobs we'd put on hold