I always like a night out in the hills and mountains, watching the stars, dozing amid the normal night noises of the wild. Some noises though, trigger a different instinct, the hunter or hunted mind. Not being able to see what is creeping closer raises paranoia to new levels, especially when enclosed entirely in a sleeping bag, making escape a very slim possibility. Still the draw is too much and I keep going back, safe in the knowledge that there are no bears in Wales.
Under The Open Sky
I’m not sure why we do it.
In the dark your eyes switch off
and other senses stretch out,
looking to replace what’s lost.
I can hear noises close by,
cracking of twigs or crushing leaves
and I force myself to lie still.
There are no bears in Wales.
But still, I strain to hear something
I know must be sniffing its way towards me
slowly, step by step. I am always surprised
to discover I have survived another night
out on the mountain, under the open sky,
drifting with the stars, waiting for sunrise
and the first coffee wrapped in a sleeping bag
before we head out higher to see the world.