Son, like me, has a blog. He writes weekly. I would struggle to achieve that regularity.
As I mentioned previously, I often only know what he is up to by reading it.

Mostly I don't worry about him. He is a grown up.

But I do get concerned when he starts asking questions about my life and that of my other half (OH) in the public domain.

'Why are there 7 open packets of peas in the freezer' he asked in a blog post recently, when home alone in our house while we were on the other side of the planet.

This question he put out there; to the whole world. I take it as a mild criticism of our daily habits, but am not suprised. I know this is an issue. I blame OH ( my other half), for he is the one who purchases peas. I prefer other green vegetables. Cabbage and spinach for example.
I have already suggested that he put a hold on pea purchasing. And anchovies ( 10 tins in the cupboard). OH is trying.

To son I would say ' but half of them are soya beans.......'

Son is a nomad, and rarely makes visits home to the UK. So it was ironic that when he needed to come home for a week we were far away in Vancouver, visiting daughter, who has also left these shores.
Son had the house to himself. And the garden. fresh vegetables on tap, and two bathrooms.

So here is a question to son..... ( I feel I should respond in kind) ..... ' sertu; enr tui o;qernut;wenrtuq eiort u'?

It doesn't need an answer, any more than the pea question. Just needed to be said. And I am far too polite to put it out to the whole world.....

So having got that out of my system I can discuss more erudite topics.

Except that I am struggling; as I often do, to know what to write. So today I am writing without knowing where my words will lead. Just do it...... as the saying goes.....

My biggest question at present is 'how will I make it through the winter'?

A recent browse through my typewritten diary notes makes me acutely aware that my mood dips dramatically in winter. I wish it were possible to 'bank' the positive feelings that summer brings.

I found myself considering this question as OH and I travelled together around Alaska for our 'summer' holiday. Strongly infuenced by my visit to the Francesca Woodman and Julia Margaret Cameron exhibition at the V&A in London, I found myself processing images from our journey in a certain way.

Some are very dark and moody; it did rain while we were there.... I am reminded of Twin Peaks; our favourite TV programme until Breaking Bad came along.

This lead to me thinking about the cold and dark of winter, and how bad weather can make for great photos, but may not help one's mood.

OH takes bad weather as a personal insult, so I was very grateful that for at least a third of  our time in Alaska we had blazing sunshine and heat. Not so good for my kind of photography.

 
Seeing Denali was a bucket list trip for me. It is the highest mountain in the US, and had had a romantic draw over me for some years. I just wanted to be there. In the middle of nowhere. With all the other tourists and cruise passengers who also had the same idea.

Not to mention a family from Nepal who were visiting because their father, an elderly gentleman, had always wanted to visit Alaska. It seems that living in a land with epically spectacular mountains isn't enough. Other mountains still need to be seen. I am not alone.

Which leads me to thinking that how I process my images depends on what story I wish to tell. Dark and moody fights with bright and cheerful much of the time. There is not much in- between. Up and down. High and low. Just like the light and the seasons.

I should tell the story of how one day Denali mountain was hidden in the clouds. From our hotel room we could see the mountains, and thought it was Denali that we were seeing on the horizon. The next morning I opened the curtains and realised how wrong we had been. Denali had revealed itself in all its glory. The mountains of the day before were just the beginnings of the mountain range; the foothills. I cannot describe my joy at this revelation. I dragged OH out of bed to gaze at the spectacle. Even he was impressed. 

My dream had been fulfilled. Denali is only visible on average one day in three.
We got lucky.

My lack of a telephoto lens on this trip meant I could not capture the mountain as I would have wished. This was a downside of attempting to travel light.

What I hadn't appreciated is how far away Denali is from any road; over 100 miles!  Or that the road to see it closer up in the National Park is blocked by a landslide, caused by melting of the frozen tundra. It won't be repaired for at least another year.

Our pre-imagined landscape can be very different from reality, and what we see in TV programmes and holiday brochures isn't always what we find when we reach the destination. A hiking guide I know who takes photos for travel brochures is instructed to have blue sky in most of his images. We all know how different a heavy grey sky can make to an experience. The lack of light and shadow makes for very dull photos.

We found more inspiring and dramatic landscapes on the drive south-east from Fairbanks. And amazing clouds. Weather and skies play such a vital part in the experience. This is why I prefer to stay longer in one place, to see it at its worst and at its best. The longer you stay, the more likely you are to get great conditions for photography. A residency is perfect!

I would like to share my wonder at the Alaskan forest floor; a lush covering of berry rich bushes, ferns and mosses. I have more photos of the undergrowth than of anything else.

But I am meandering.

I don't have a strong story to tell. I didn't come back with thousands of images.

This was a family holiday. Not a photography trip. A fly-drive, not a hiking trip that would have got me deep into the tundra scenery away from the other visitors. I will save that for another day.

I ate a lot of salmon. We did a lot of driving. OH and I survived 14 days together

I realised a dream.

And yes, we did see bears, and I am now an expert on how to behave if you see a moose, a brown bear or a black bear.

Just dont mix them up or you will possibly end up dead.

​Son gave me a wonderful Christmas present.

A night in a mountain hut in Chamonix and a hike on top of the world. I couldn't have been happier. Probably the best gift I have ever received.

Son currently lives in Chamonix, for he is a digital nomad. So he can live where he pleases. I wont say 'he is lucky', for he made it happen. All the best realised dreams come from personal endeavor. That much I do know.

The chosen hike involved a significant climb. I was worried that I wasn't fit enough. Son is not massively tolerant of slow people. He runs up and down mountains every week. 

So for the last five months I have been doggedly trying to get 'mountain ready'. Following an exercise programme that seemed to involve one step back for every two steps forward I experienced different body pains after different exercises. Trying to balance progress with what my body would tolerate. Hiking up hills with a heavy rucksack on my back. Leg, arm and core exercises in the living room. I made progress, but altitude was something that I couldn't prepare for.

​I did my best.

 
And so I arrived in Chamonix.

I nearly missed my flight due to unplanned underground delays and a 'body' on the line. My hiking poles didn't make the journey in their special tube. Hiking poles are too 'dangerous' to take on board as carry on.  It was not an easy start.

But I arrived happily in the mountains. And the sun was shining.

Delicate clouds were drifting over Mont Blanc and the Glacier Bossons. 

​I had a day to myself before the big adventure.

Time to think about all the kit that I had gathered in my preparations for the hike and our night up the mountain. Sharing a room with strangers was the part that I was least looking forward to. I practised using my foam earplugs.....

For the first time in my life I had gathered together almost all of the recommended essential items for hiking in the mountains, plus a couple of luxury items that would permit me a shower if I felt the need. 

​

​I didn't have a knife..... nor was I sure what I would use one for. Son had a knife. I had a bandage and some plasters......

We were fully equipped.

Time for a hike and a wander around town. Chamonix is a trail running mecca. While I was there it was a weekend of marathons; 90km, 42km and 23km, all involving many thousands of metres ascent and descent. The Mont-Blanc Marathon. Marathons for tough people. 

The shops are full of trail running gear. To me it was a whole new world. ​Most appealing are the shoes..... joyfully coloured and light. No matter that they will be splattered with mud as soon as they go into action.

And then there are running vests with double water bottles that squish down as you drink, superlight clothes and anoraks, and superlight folding hiking poles. It is a world of specialised gear. One that I do not belong to. For I am just a humble hiker, with a normal, non collapsing water bottle and normal hiking poles.

I soaked it all up. And treated myself to a superlight sun hat. 

I practised hiking with my kit. 

My hiking poles were delivered by courier by mid morning on day two so I was ready for action. I hiked on the opposite side of the valley, looking across to the location for our big hike the following day.

The remains of the winter snow were rain stained and dirty looking. Shorts and t-shirts were the order of the day. It was hot. Ice-creams were selling like hot cakes in town.

​The view across the valley was spectacular. 

​I wondered why I was carrying so many clothes. I probably wasn't going to need my warm emergency layers. 

​

 
And then the big day came.

After watching and cheering folk arriving back to the finish line of the 90km marathon our time had come.

Except that it didn't. One hour before we were due to ascend the mountain using the Aiguille du Midi chairlift, the lifts closed down for the day. High winds and a possible storm had arrived.

The top of the mountains disappeared into the clouds, and we had to cancel our outing. We looked up to see the Refuge du Plan de l'aiguille sitting tormentingly out of reach. So near and yet so far. 

​All that preparation and no way to get up the mountain to the starting point for our 'adventure'.

And yet, strangely, it didn't matter. Not in the grand scheme of things. I really didn't mind.

Most of my enjoyment had already been had; in the anticipation and preparation.

I was in the mountains with my son. We didn't have to sleep with snoring strangers, and we were able to share a delicious cheese fondue with his friends.

And the following morning we approached the mountain by a different route, still cloud shrouded. We visited the Mer du Glace glacier with its ice caves carved out of the sea of ice.

Having visited the ice caves we climbed up the stony path on the hike that we should have done, in the opposite direction, until we were immersed in cloud. It was grey, damp, steep and rocky. Around us were wild azaleas, pink and bright.

I never got to see the spectacular views across the valley, or to see Mont Blanc from the Aiguille du Midi. 

But that is the nature of adventures. We cannot outsmart the weather, and not all goals are achievable. I tried to imagine the disappointment of going to Everest and not making the summit. Statistics tell me that of those who travelled to Everest Base camp in recent years about two thirds reached the summit. Which means that one in three people do not achieve their goal. I was surprised to discover that women are more likely to succeed. 

Between 2006 and 2019 0.5% of women and 1.1% of men died during the Everest summit ascent/descent. It is a risky business.

Obviously my adventure was seriously tame in the grand scheme of things. The weather won on this occasion, but I am still alive, and the mountain will still be there on my next visit. I can try again.

Meanwhile son will continue to set himself big challenges, and I will continue to be happy to set myself smaller ones.

Having goals and setting oneself challenges is one of the keys to happiness. as discussed in the very last interview on BBC Sounds by Michael Moseley with psychologist Paul Bloom on 'How to Live a Good Life'. I absolutely agree; I have had so much pleasure preparing for this mini adventure. It is the journey, not the destination that matters.

And now I am busy thinking about what my next challenge will be, and looking forward to a week's hiking in Spain later this year.