“The mountains became my mental health manual”

Student James Ayshford reveals how the North Wales mountains changed his life.

Head buried in the leather chair of a coffee shop, with mum by my side, my anxiety was racing. What could I do with a mind intent on double-checking, reassurance-seeking and worrying? Suddenly it hit me – opt for a new path, but this time up a mountain.

So off we went, on a bitter 2018 January morning – boots on, border terriers in hand, and our sights set for North Wales. An underlying reluctance and an array of anxiety clouded any impetus to head to the mists of Moel Famau, but if nothing else the dogs needed a change of scenery – and soon it was to become apparent that I did too.

All psyched up, and with an excited border terrier pulling my arm to its maximum extension, I jumped out of the car only to fall flat into the muddy puddles of the car park. At the time I didn’t understand it, but there was a magic to falling in that mud. The laughs, the cold dirt clinging to my trousers, and all the earthy smells became the kickstart I needed to finding presence, grounding and a healthier mind.

The ascent got me caught in the brisk winds of the Clwydians, spotting grouse, sprinting off with the dogs and taking photographs. As we neared the summit and exited the pines, the day turned that bit more special when it started to snow. For the first time in months my emphasis shifted from thinking to the wonderful qualities of feeling.

That day was to be the catalyst to my life in the mountains. I became a fanatic of Snowdonia National Park, climbing Snowdon multiple times and exploring its incredible surrounds. Hidden gems such as the Watkin Path and its falls, or the wild Shetlands of Cwm Idwal, are now my special place. I live for North Wales sunsets off the Great Orme or Conwy Mountain, and the wonders of the Anglesey Coastal path and Ynys Llanddwyn.

Walking the weekends away in Snowdonia and Anglesey is now my norm, and the mountains have become a manual for my mental health. On every walk, I have strategies I apply gently on the trails. A five-sense exercise is amazing. Drawing focus to five things you can hear, smell, feel, touch and even taste brings you the ‘now’ of your magnificent walking environment, and enriches the whole experience.

I’ve picked up on smells that have taken me back to that specific place I spent time at in Australia as a kid, and noticed seals in sheltered coves that would be so easy to miss. Focusing my gaze on a specific rock or landmark in the distance as an anchor point also gives gravitas and a feeling of ‘I’m here’. I love to sit by waterfalls and watch twigs and mountain debris float by as a metaphor for any passing thoughts. Letting them drift downstream without reason to dive in and fixate on them is revitalising.

And along with these strategies come other amazing moments of ‘mountain magic’. Exploring less-known routes, navigating as a team, or facilitating tension release by letting my temples and eyes relax as I gaze out from Snowdon’s summit over to Newborough Forest, have all been amazing for mindfulness.

Rooted at the base of my ‘manual’ comes this immense sense of feeling, which detaches me from the thinking mind. The feeling of summiting, completing a planned route or finding a wonderful lunchtime spot is unparalleled and makes me feel great. On a deeper level, I have developed an attachment to