The storm is still some way off when we arrive at the crag. Storm clouds race across the sky between the summits and the heat is oppressive down here amongst the pine trees. Our friends rope up and I settle myself down and unpack my mobile workshop: carders, fleece, spindle. All around me, the forest is inviting: the pine trees, the black woodpeckers and the wild orchids. Just like that.
I extend my arm, take a few locks of fleece and carefully tease them apart, picking out the debris as I work and letting it fall to the forest floors. Then I carefully brush them with my carders before making a stumpy rolag of fleece.
Then the skies open and thick rain drops start to fall. I pack up everything and escape the impending storm, arriving at the nearby refuge quicker than the climbers.
I don't think I'll ever tire of these summer days spent outside in the forests and the meadows.