Trust your gut...and other bits

Me photographed by my husband on a rest stop (one of many) from the slopes of Grey Friar looking down into the Duddon Valley.

There’s nothing like a week away in nature to come home to yourself. To feel grounded and nourished in a way that simply doesn’t happen anywhere else. For us, half-terms and holidays mean heading north to our beloved Lake District. A place that we have returned to time and again. A place that has remained constant and unchanging even as our little family has grown and changed.

Autumn sees us heading to the same holiday cottage that we’ve rented every autumn, since we were there with 2 boys under 2. It’s a place that has seen first steps and first shaves -and everything in between.

And there is something so calming and reassuring about doing some of the same walks each year. What was once an all morning adventure through the woods, now takes a matter of minutes as long teenage legs eat up the strides.

And hill walks that used to involve me helping a small boy up a steep rocky climb, now involve that much grown boy carrying my rucksack and lending a helping hand to me as I struggle to find handholds.

Yewbarrow: looking a bit intimidating from this angle.

It’s emotional too. As we embarked on a climb of Yewbarrow at the start of our holiday it was hard not to think back. Not only to the way I used to help the boys but also on the way my body used to work. Although I didn’t think of myself as conventionally fit back then I undoubtedly was. I could walk and rock climb without thinking too much about it and certainly didn’t worry about whether, physically I’d be able to manage a long day in the hills.

These days it’s very different. After Covid, menopause and gallbladder issues (followed by surgery) my body is in a very different place as is my mind. I don’t compare myself much to others, I never have but I do have a bad habit of comparing myself to my past self. Berating myself for not being able to do the things I might have easily done 15 years ago, without acknowledging the things my body has seen me through over that time.

But I’m still here, still going. And although that might look a little different to how it used to it’s still my reality that I get to spend time in the wonderful hills and mountains that I love so much. And for that I am profoundly grateful.

“Trust your boots” was something we used to say to our boys a lot when they were small and learning to walk on rough ground and rocky scrambles. Indeed it was something my son said to me on the last rocky climb up the front of Yewbarrow. I didn’t have a lot of faith in my leg muscles at that point and was taking a long time over placing my hands and feet to avoid slipping. He was right, my boots looked after me (as did he).

“Trust your gut” is another important feeling that I keep coming back to, in so many walks of life. Whether it’s an interaction with a stranger that leaves you wanting to find out more (or avoid them), or whether you are assessing your latest knitting project with a critical eye - 9 times out of 10 your gut instinct has it right.

I’ve lost count of the number of times I have ploughed on with a particular project, ignoring the little voice inside me that is trying to tell me I’m on the wrong track. I’m trying to get better at listening to that voice, and even if I don’t take action right away, at least to use it as an opportunity to pause, to do something else for a little while and then (hopefully, calmly) re-evaluate when I’ve had a chance to think.

How are you at trusting your gut? Is it something that comes naturally to you or is it something that you’ve had to work at?