Unbalanced Vision

Consider it a sickness: I've registered myself and my face on various networking websites for fear of being excluded from the great chain of being, or remember poor Sandra Bullock in The Net? It's a type of OCD I know, but living like a hermit is not healthy either. I started with hi5, then moved onto Myspace, bebo, LinkedIn, claimID and ziki. Identity management is an enormous task, especially when you are seen on a few sites. One of the greatest joy of course is to find lost friends who have no lives outside cyberspace like you, or check out their goodlooking male mates. My recent favourite is Facebook, which was recommended by my mum (weird, I know). When I finally registered, she had already been leaving silly comments and uploading pictures. Facebook has a nicer template, interesting functions and is not controlled by Bush-loving Murdoch. It's such a great waste of time--I like!

Day I

Sandwich Monster

Day II

Pennine Way

Rabbit Proof Fence

Lunch Break

Male Love (HY resembles Derek Zoolander, no?)

Day III

Waste Land

Home and Dry, not

54 sandwiches. 24 miles. 9 people. 2 days. 1 destination. 0 tales.

Last weekend a group of 'pilgrims' conquered 10% of Pennine Way in Peak District, said to be England's oldest trail. According to Grandpa Albert Wainwright and the Observer, this is a severe route, with rough terrains, rocky slopes and harsh weather. The first day's eight-mile walk was generally pleasing; in fact we were able to take off our winter coats and enjoy a picnic under the sun. After a good night's sleep at a newly built, decently clean youth hostel, we were all set for the second day's even more difficult task to our final destination Edale, but somewhat confident that the conditions won't be as bad as how the weather forecast described. After half-an-hour or so, it started pissing down like mad and getting quite chilly. The ground was muddy and boggy, and my gloves and boots were so soaked as if a boat could float in them. My chocolate bar was covered with bits of dirt, but what do I care? They are of the same colour anyway, and I'll just eat it to survive. At some point my left leg was stuck in a hole up to my thigh, and for the rest of the route I looked like a mud monster. The Beaklow and Mill Hill scenery were a no-man waste land, with 60mph wind. Braving the elements, some walked in pairs for fear of being blown away. The track petered our after flat land, and we were left to our own devices on the mountain top. About to descend, wind speed now increased against our advantage, and at that moment it seemed wise to veer off the original route; slowly we trod further and further away from Edale. Disappointed? Not really. One knows that success in not necessarily about completion, but about seeking alternative ways to come back in one piece. Gradually nine weary bodies and somewhat cheerful spirits arrived at a small town called Hayfield, and waited for the next bus to civilisation.

Back in London, I've elevated myself to God-like status after this hike. For all you city slackers, click here for a healthy tube walk.