It feels nice to be back to the relative quiet of home now. The peacefulness of being sat at my desk with a morning coffee from my own coffee machine, ready to resume edits on the film projects that have been waiting for me at home whilst I’ve been working away.
I’ve also been thinking a lot about shifting goals and not really quite appreciating where you are. Because my own goals have changed and grown in the last few years, it’s been easy to not quite realise all the progress, and that a few years back I’d be pinching myself if I was doing this, and (mostly) making it work.
This last screening took Becca’s cold water swimming journey right back to where it started in her hometown of Clevedon. It feels bittersweet – it’s the biggest screening we’ve had, with over 280 tickets sold, and it’s also only screening I’ve not been able to make it to, as I’m sat here typing this in the Highlands of Scotland, feeling as far away as I can be.
Finding ourselves the only people at our campsites, taking turns to take the driving and somehow it’s so far always me in the dark on the snowier roads. Making sandwiches in our little rental camper and really realising how much we love our giant van back home.
But that’s just the nature of this job, it isn’t always going to be the perfect conditions, and there was a real beauty to the harshness of the mountains that day. Knowing they could have been even more challenging and dangerous had the wind increased, thinking back to the fierce winds of our day on the glacier and what it would been like up here.
It’s just a chilled day of enjoyment in the mountains, pushing my pace, feeling my leg muscles come back stronger and stronger, more and more. My chest is beginning to feel better. Recovery is well under way and I’m becoming more excited for upcoming projects, to throw myself back into shooting again.
The sky is becoming a little less blue, minute by minute, as the vibe from bluebird day begins to change. As we head down the clouds begin to roll in, whipping up the snow around us and pushing us sideways as we head back down to the car park, the view of Loch Morlich still visible through dancing powder. I’m thinking about food, and a shower, and how much fun I’ve had.
I’m already finding it hard not to stop and take some photos. But I ration myself, heading up and up past a guide and his group pitching the gully and a couple pitching and simul-climbing. Occasional ice rains down on me, bouncing off my helmet and creating some small bruises on my thumb and inner thigh. I’m ahead so I shield Michael from the worst of it.
We solo on the gentler start, comfortable on the terrain but then the rope comes off the bag, time to pitch. This will be our most technical gully, we’ve done some II climb on ridgey-clambery terrain but not in a gully, so I’m quite interested to see what the gear-situation is.
It’s been quite a while since I’ve genuinely felt so immersed in something. Even when shooting other things, I’m worrying about other things and I find it pretty hard to switch off these days, though going into the New Year I’ve really been working on it. But I really did find myself totally in the moment here. Feeling the cold and concentrating on the shots.