- BECAUSE THEY'RE THERE is about climbing mountains – nothing else. Well, actually, there are one or two other things. But it's mostly about climbing mountains. And fish and chips. And politics. And doing a bit of fell running. And wondering where the hell your life's gone – and where it might be going next. And cooking kippers in a wet tent. And people you bump into who do similar things. Actually, that last one doesn't happen very often . . .
Top Posts & Pages
- High Street and Fusedale – War and Pieces
- Great Burney: One Small Step, One Giant Leap
- Black Gold, Tan Hill Tea
- Humber. Southeasterly Four. Moderate or Good. Rain later.
- In Between One England and Another
- Green Hurth: Where the Big Wheel Turns
- The Environment is Positively Charged
- Days Like This, No 10: Peaking on the Three Peaks
- Black Combe – On the Edge of a Circle
- Days Like These, No 9: Clearing the Mind on the Cluanie Ridge
- What Does Adventure Mean to You?
- Lindisfarne – A Pilgrim’s Progress
- Days Like This, No 8: The Five Sisters of Kintail
- Cross Fell – Fiends, Rivers, Paths and Poets
- Old Roads, a Fallen Lady, St Jude and Thoughts for the Day
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Copyright© Alen McFadzean and Because They're There, 2009-2014. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Alen McFadzean and Because They're There with appropriate and specific direction to the original content
Tag Archives: Spain
DO you work in a factory, an office, a shop, or drive a company van? Are you a member of parliament, unemployed, a doctor, a refuse collector, a teacher or the chief executive officer of a multi-national corporation? Maybe you … Continue reading
WHEN I was a teenager I made a pledge to climb Coniston Old Man at least once every year because it was the first mountain I climbed and it was special. I also grew up within sight of its familiar … Continue reading
THE mountains are full of places where people lived, raised families and died. Their children and their children’s children have moved on. All that remains are stones and walls and the imagined echoes of humanity . . .
THE Rio Guadalfeo flows from the Sierra Nevada mountains through steep-sided valleys to the Mediterranean at Salobreña. I’ve gazed down upon its course from the winding mountain road to Orgiva many times, and been shouted at from the passenger seat … Continue reading
THE joy of paths. There are indistinct paths that fade and confound; paths choked with nettles and brambles; malevolent paths that lead through mud and bogland; and paths that twist in the wrong direction. And there are paths that lift … Continue reading
SPAIN gets under your skin and fingernails. It dries your eyes and your mouth. You can feel it in your hair and on your brow when your boots kick the dust of its white mountain tracks. You smell its wild … Continue reading