It was hot. My legs hurt from the day before. The first couple of miles were like Oxford Street on a Saturday afternoon. Every time someone passed me I was angrier than before but as soon as I got up onto the ridge I felt calm again. I looked out over the lake. There was enough of a breeze to feel cool, not enough to need a coat. Lucky because I hadn’t brought one. I cut an apple into quarters with my old Puma knife & watched someone being helicoptered off one of the popular tracks on the north side. Heart attack. Sprained ankle. Lost their iPhone. After five minutes the helicopter clattered past the length of a back garden away & at the same level as my eyes, oily & machine-looking like a yellow bulldozer suspended in clear air. It banked away north east, the despatcher staring out blankly in my direction, seeing nothing but an afternoon’s work. Scores of people crowded on to the summit like bristles on a brush. They were holding up their phones, taking the pictures, looking for a signal. I could go up there but I didn’t have to, so I ate the apple, wiped the knife & went down instead & spent the rest of the afternoon lying in the grass listening to the stream. My head was back on.