UPHILL WORK OR SUMMIT THE MATTER

Have you ever gone up one of those mountains where you can see the end of the climb clearly above you, and you strive mightily to get there, but as you gratefully arrive at the top – it isn’t.

You find yourself on a plateau, and beyond that a more serious slope leers at you. You repeat the exercise, and the result repeats itself. Finally, you see a rise that definitely leads to the highest point, and you stumble your way up to the top. Puzzled, you hunt for the beacon – only to see one on another, slightly higher rise on the other side of a saddle. You have to go downhill and then up again.

I have had parts of this experience a few times on mountains in Wales or the Lake District, and even on some of the ones in our own Drakensberg. Even the modest Inhlosane in the Midlands has a few of those features. Similar things happen to one when out cycling regarding hills that simply seem to rise to higher hills, especially near Karkloof.

Anyway, just of late many of my endeavours seem to have followed a similar pattern. A novel which I thought I had pushed out of the nest months ago is clinging desperately to the branch and screaming that it is afraid of heights. The first movement of a trio which I thought was done and dusted won’t let me get on with the next one – every time I listen to it I have to adjust something, from adding passages to changing chords to the pedalling for the piano to speed or expression. My system is to keep playing them over until nothing jumps out and bites my ear, and then do an MP3, and if that doesn’t sound right go back to fiddling. Ha – like now – I’ll have to scrap this recording and go back to add a bar of rests. *fumes a bit*

 I do wish mountain tops would be where I think they are.

 

Oh well. Some winter colour from the weekend to lift my mood.

© July 2011 Colonialist (Letterdash/WordPress)