Take some­one for a walk and you might just shape the way their life un­folds. To prove it, deputy editor Nick Hal­lis­sey tells the story of the peo­ple who did that for him…

Country Walking Magazine (UK) - - News -

’M ASLEEP. The blast of cold air hits me like a slap. “Come on lad. Letsby Av­enue.” From some­where in the cosy back seat of a 1984 Honda Civic, I make a noise. Some­where between a grunt and a mum­ble. Lit­er­ally, a grum­ble.

And then – oof – the boots are thrown at me. Jazzy char­coal Dach­steins with pur­ple trim. Bought from Gaynor’s of Am­ble­side in a bid to make this mo­ment some­how more palat­able. It isn’t.

Bleary-eyed, a youth of some­where between eight and 15 hoists him­self up out of the seat and looks out of the rudely-opened back door. Cold. Windy. Early.

And then there’s dad, bear­ing overly strong, un­sug­ared tea in a flask from the Seven­ties.

“Come on,” he says again, be­fore in­vok­ing the York­shire­man’s Mantra: “’Ap­pen it’ll brighten up yet.” And then I re­mem­ber. I love this. I have no idea where I am. It might be Edale, it might be Seath­waite, it might be Lower Peover (ten points if you can put that on a map). But wher­ever it is, I’m about to go for a walk with mum and dad, and that means ev­ery­thing’s okay. It means funny stuff will hap­pen. It means we’ll see some­thing in­ter­est­ing, pos­si­bly even amaz­ing. It means we’ll eat cheese and pickle sand­wiches by a trig point or un­der a tree. And it means that one day, a few decades hence, I might get a job on the world’s great­est walk­ing mag­a­zine.

Can’t be all bad.

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