Three months ago I spent a week in the mountains. The weather, as documented in blogs at the time, was bad on the first day, getting gradually better as the week progressed. The experience I am about to relay relates to the final walk of the week. The original blog can be read here:
If you haven’t followed the link and read it, in a nutshell, the weather was perfect, warm and bright and was a great day.
Now. I am fairly open minded. This applies to anything really, existence of God, life in space, ghosts, and whether Elton John wears a wig. Whilst I am open minded, experiencing things that I can’t explain disturb me just a little. When I was younger I saw a shape move across the top of the stairs. There were also times when loud bangs would be heard upstairs while we’re all in the living room. There were probably other examples during my life when odd things have happened. The latest thing is what happened to me on this mountain.
It was on the last leg. I’d climbed out of the valley onto the highest point of the walk. On the saddle of the ridge, it was very windy. So I took advantage of a drystone wall to shelter behind to check the map. Bearings found, off I set on a gently sloping path, a terrace, clinging to the eastern slopes of the mountain. Luckily, it was out of the wind, baked by the sun, and covered in heather and other vegetation. The first half of the slow descent was fairly lonely, just a couple of girls coming down from the summit, crossing my path on their way straight down to the valley floor. A five minute chat and we were all on our way again. I have to say, mountain chats are by far the best ones. I just know I’m going to have some utterly positive and uplifting conversations with complete strangers. I guess it’s because it’s so easy. It’s clear that the fact you’re all up there on a weekday shows you all have a mutual love of the outdoors and uplands.
After my new friends had left me, I stopped occasionally and turned to watch them disappearing down the hillside until after twenty minutes or so, I could no longer make them out. I continued my slow descent until a strange uneasy feeling came over me. I can only describe it as just feeling a little nervous, on edge (pun intended), and hurried. This feeling was then followed by what I first thought was the wind whistling through a buckle or toggle on my bag, but there was no wind. It then became apparent that it was a humming sound. A tuneful female humming sound. I checked about me and was definitely alone. It was like the sound of a mother soothing a child to sleep.
It was strangely soothing to hear after the initial uneasiness. It probably only lasted for twenty or thirty seconds in the first instance. A couple of minutes later I heard it again. The next hour was spent in a very technical descent which required concentration, yet I found myself listening carefully for the lady’s voice again. It never came and I reached the car, heading out of the valley, occasionally looking at the path and mountain in the rear view mirror.