I lace up my sturdy hiking boots and climb the stairs to the front door. Out onto the high street a fresh wind chills my face. I tighten my scarf and cross over. I pass the local pub and ascend the steep staircase between the stone houses. I turn along the next well kept street and pass the shiny new cars. Few rooves still have chimneys and only a few smoke. I turn up a steep road past a modern house across from the old school. Up the gravel track taking me onto the mountainside. The overgrown pine forests are edged with deciduous trees and a variety of plants. Grassy banks with rocky outcrops. Across the valley the green mountains have no trees but are dotted with sheep. I look back at the already small town and beyond see the larger steeper mountains at the head of the valley. I continue slowly up. High in the sky a large bird of prey glides on the wind. A gushing stream splashes through the grass and disappears beneath the track. I pass the forest and reach open fields divided by carefully constructed dry stone walls. The cows turn and stare. As I pass they lurch away and jog down the hillside. The track levels off and turns towards another pine forest. I turn down a little muddy footpath between the side of a hill and a hedgerow. A green woodpecker darts out of the hedge and with a flap and glide advances onto the next bush. A dense growth of ferns is turning a beautiful shade of autumnal yellow. The path takes me round to the open side of the hill. From here I view the vast panorama. A cluster of wind turbines are turning. The modern buildings of an expanding farm. The ruins of an old house. Further away another group of windmills are too small to see their movement. The tiny silhouette of a barge can be seen on the misty expanse of the Bristol channel. Beyond are the dark hills of Dorset. I savour the space and continue around the curve of the hill taking me back into the valley. Below is another small settlement. Ribbons of terraced houses pattern away from the main road. I pass over a concrete drainage channel, follow a wall, pass through a gateway and return to the gravel road. At my side a sharp incline holds large pines creating a dark and ominous space. As I descend another track from behind the gardens of the outlying houses joins the way. A steep verge at the intersection has been lovingly turned into a rockery garden. I continue down and as I pass the vehicle barrier an old sign still advises the forestry wagons to slow down and sound their horns as they go by the now disused school. I follow the road straight back down to the high street and turn up the slight incline towards my house. I pass the tattoo studio, the beauty parlour, the value shop and the barber’s and arrive at my front door opposite the old photographic studio. I enter and sit on the armchair in the front room and relax.