Windermere from Wansfell...

When I’m out walking there are two, apparently contradictory, impulses at work: the perfectly rational desire to get away from other people, and the equally rational desire to socialise. Walking beyond the walled packets of land, out onto the breezy tops, I enjoy the silence and the solitude. But I also enjoy the special smiles that people share when they meet in the open air.

They’re sharing the landscape too, perhaps a favourite view. Now, I know what you’re thinking: it’s not hard to share something you don’t actually own. Nevertheless, it’s good to get away from the proprietorial attitude that rules our everyday lives, that “this is mine” and “that is yours”. On the fells we make no demands of one another; up here, above the tree line, there’s neither guest nor host. No-one’s trying to sell you anything (with the exception of the bedraggled Jehovah’s Witness, on the summit of Great Gable, who tried to thrust a soggy pamphlet into my hand).

Walking is democratic. When walkers meet, it’s as equals. It doesn’t matter whether they came by car or took the bus. It doesn’t matter what they do to make a living. Walking does little to promote social status; the folk who want to make a big impression stay closer to the lake, where their boats and cars will attract more envious glances. The people we meet on the hills may have little in common beyond a love of walking and the outdoor life, but, for the purpose of striking up a conversation, that’s enough.