A Morning Climb by Crozon Beach

I had opened a window in our little holiday cottage to feel the cold breeze on my face, the kind that clears your head first thing in the morning. It’s been a long year for me; my job has been demanding at times, a position of responsibility that has left me emotionally drained on several occasions. Navigating people and problems from all directions can feel like a minefield, especially for someone as sensitive as me.

That morning, we planned to head to the coast. It was our first time in Crozon, a lovely little town in northern France with a lingering mediaeval feel. Somehow the idea of climbing the rocky mountain near Morgat Beach filled me with excitement.  

My sister is not really outdoorsy, whereas I love hiking. We complement each other pretty well. That morning, though, she wanted to hike with me. We make an effort to be attentive when we’re together since she lives in France and I in Portugal.

There’s a special feeling that comes when you look up at a mountain, take in the woods, and absorb the silence within them — the sudden movements of startled birds, the wind swaying the trees…. It soothes me. Last night’s rain had made the climb muddy; the terrain was rocky and the climbing uncomfortable, yet somehow, the effort felt enjoyable. It’s funny how life’s struggles and stresses melt away when our bodies are engaged in physical activity. Suddenly, there are no thoughts about the things we don’t like, no worries — just you and nature. My lungs were burning, but it was a welcome burn.

We continued our climb, eagerly anticipating the view from the top, and passed a mediaeval fortress waterlogged by the rain. Despite the soggy conditions, we went in anyway. Inside, it was dark, with metal bars in some doorways, and vegetation had begun to reclaim the space.

We continued quietly, finishing our climb atop a rocky outcrop. To witness the wide expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, turquoise green, calm yet moving, felt like a blessing. In that timeless moment, I took in the horizon and the motion of the waves, the dock appearing small far below. The cold, dry breeze awakened our senses, reminiscent of collapsing into bed after a long day — when you finally let go. I was filled with indescribable joy.

Distance from a thing truly gives you perspective. From above, so many things lose their meaning; they no longer feel heavy or stressful. For a moment, everything pauses, time stops still, only the wind keeps shifting, and the waves continue dancing. You find peace for a while, letting nature embrace you — much like an eagle, watching the world from above, detached from its trepidations, knowing it is cherished by the cosmos.

In the midst of these thoughts, I looked at my sister, who was also contemplating the view. We shared a moment of silence, experiencing the same feelings. Isn’t it wonderful to communicate without words? No words are needed when hearts are alike.