It was June and I was on a dear old school friends hen do in Barcelona. Not one for too much time visiting cities, I researched the closest hill – Sant Jeroni. Fortunately Becky and I share the same stance on hen do’s; no penis’s, no pink sashes and no organised ‘fun’. Her mantra was, it’s you’re holiday too.
I took advantage of her view on this situation. It was a week before my Sunflowers for Soldiers expedition and I needed to walk. Alot, but there’s only so much city walking I can handle. About 45 miles actually. Equally living in London it’s not easy to find a decent hill apart from the stairs in tube stations and I had 4 Mt Everest’s to climb in the next couple of weeks.
So I hopped on a train to Montserrat, climbed a mountain, met a new friend and was home in time for dinner.