Had an eureka moment whilst driving down the M1 to Heathrow. Does our style of motorway driving defines us as a person! Carolynn, who’s sat beside me, I don’t think’s convinced. Haven’t we all driven down the motorway cursing our fellow drivers, very rarely praising them? Of course we have. That little Polo or Fiat 500 sat in the overtaking lane, doing 70mph, oblivious to the chaos as the traffic stacks up behind them. Dreaming. In their own little sphere of existence, unaware of what’s happening in the larger world around them, happy and content knowing that there’s nothing in their way. And then there’s the Golf GTI, Range Rover and BMW drivers speeding down the outside lane, angry with the slightly slower drivers in front of them, flashing their headlights and gesticulating as they pass. The high flyers, the heads up their backsides and ‘I’m more important’ brigade. They often excel at what they do but have little or no interest in the people that surround them as they drive ruff-shod over others lives to gain what is often just a small advantage. Then there are those that weave from lane to lane, often in Clio size cars or small low slung sports cars. They undertake and swerve in front of other drivers forcing them to break then speed off with a smirk. In a queue, they move aggressively from one lane to another only to find that another lane is moving faster. Never satisfied with where or who they are and their constant changing very rarely gets them where they want to go any faster and they most definitely annoy everyone else as they try to get to their destination. Now we come to the middle lane driver or cruiser, who everyone seems to curse but never admits to being, a Steady Eddy, takes no risks, doesn’t ride ruff-shod over anyone. Clucks and tuts at all the other people as they pass them on both the inside and outside lanes. Safe and sound in the knowledge that nothing will harm them and that others will always look out for them. The last type (forgetting commercial drivers) are the timid inside lane drivers. They use the slip road not as a means of getting up to speed but a means of dipping their toe in to the faster moving traffic, often stopping as they don’t like the speed of modern life. They then trundle down the slow land hiding behind the larger more confident trucks, hoping to be invisible and unobtrusive, blinkered, never daring to venture into the faster lanes. It’s all about ones Perception of Risk!

Which type am I? Who knows. One thing I’ve said over the last two years, though, is that other peoples perception of ‘risk’ can be very different from my own and hopefully I’ve learned to respect other peoples choices, but sometimes you have to remind them that, that works in both directions!

This, of course has no bearing on why I’m at Heathrow Terminal 5. I’m on my way to meet up with Stephen in Nice, before we then fly to Corsica tomorrow to walk the GR20. Terminal 5 is certainly busier than when I was here last time, just two months ago, when James and I were on our way to Iceland, but it’s not in anyway buzzing like it used to. There are no real queues for check in and bag drop off. Getting to departures is only slowed down a little by the paperwork required to travel anywhere at this time…patience was never one of my strong points, but retirement has mellowed me as I realise time is irrelevant and to just savour all that is offered. The reason I’m here. The GR20, a high level mountain walk over the peaks of Corsica. 180km spread over 12 to 14 days, with no set itinerary. No accommodation booked. Just a backpack and a tent. The only real pressure to finish is the already booked flight home on 25th September. Unusual for me to do a long distance wild camp, I have been used to porters, cooks and camp assistants who pitch and unpitch my tent, spoiled, I suppose. Anyway, I’ve cut my toothbrush down, only got two sets of underwear, two shirts, two pairs of socks…you get my drift, minimalistic. Weight is king, or lack of. My only luxuries, a blowup down pillow and all my camera gear, or should I say my lightweight camera gear. A small Sony RX100 vii, a Platypod, ballhead and filters, altogether they weigh less than my Canon 5D MKiv. Looking forward to seeing Stephen again, as it’s been nearly three years since our last expedition in Bhutan. He’ll mercilessly take the Micky, with me constantly on the defensive, although he might disagree. All I know is the conversation will be lively and interesting! 🤔