Sarah Rixham

A picturesque blue lagoon in the bottom of a limestone amphitheatre, is that in the Peak District? Dora assures me it is.

Do you think you can highline there? Yes! I'm waiting for the next idea and here it is - I need to check it out!

It's as good as it looks in the picture, maybe better. The anchor situation is pre-prepared; large boulders placed around the edge, perfect! Long lines look possible, something that has not been easy to find it the UK. So far the only 100m+ highlines that have been rigged are 210m and 120m at Malham Cove, but with the peregrines taking control of the Cove for the summer with no regard for sharing the airspace with highliners that option is out. But what is possible here? 200m, 300m? (350m was later measured). After some weeks of walking lines within my abilities my confidence was high, but I yearned for the challenge of a line that could teach me a lesson. Two weeks after seeing the picture we were there ready to rig, unfortunately the wet and windy weather decreased our group to just four, but we were up for it whatever the sky could throw at us. Dane, Dan, Dora and I arrive at night, set up camp in the dark woods above and look down to where we hoped to go in the morning. We wake early and my enthusiasm puts me slightly on edge, we should be rigging already! After considering a few options we find a line that is possible, but we wish we had longer webbing as the scale is bigger than I had thought and 200m+ would span the impressive gap. Our 116m option works for now.

Rigging is quick and Dan is immediately ready to go, but what is that car doing at the bottom? Someone is watching us - this doesn't look good. We carry on, the water below looks so inviting, the sun is shining, everything is perfect. Dan is putting in an impressive performance and my excitement to feel the line on my feet is building. But shit, that's the police. “Dan the police are here.” He slides off the line, “Sarah get ready it’s your turn.”

I want to know what it's like out there, I can't resist, I sit on the line but I'm not fully prepared for it. I stand and feel the movements, powerful shakes oscillate along the line, oh I haven't seen that in a while, this is a challenge I want. It draws me in but I can't focus, I see Dan running away to charm the police. I stand up again “Sarah this is your last walk” Dan tells me. It's not long before I catch the line and I know this highline is over. Did I see this coming - yes but sometimes you have to try, I’m not in denial anymore. There is no arguing in situations like this so we don't, better to keep a good relationship and show we are not trying to cause trouble. Quarries are dangerous places don't you know... It's just too perfect, we have to leave.

We pack up and leave and rack our brain for other possible spots, Tom and Steffi join us in our quest to regain respect for the Peak District. We check out some spots but rationality beats enthusiasm, fortunately; nothing is good enough. However it’s hard to be disappointed with such energetic people around. Still, there’s a three-day weekend left, there must be more fun to be had.

News of our disappointment travels fast and we already have another invite, the Peak has nothing to offer us now so we head to the South Coast to visit Jed. Down to two, Dora and I set off early. A few train journeys, running through London trying to escape the stifling city and we are back in the countryside and heading to the sea.

A fact that has been sitting in the background putting pressure on our decisions but being ignored with all our might is the weather that has been threatening. So far so good but wind and rain are coming.

We rig a midline over the sea this is how it felt as I take the first try;

Hectic is the word running through my head.
Five meters above the sea the waves crash around me.
The spray hits on one side, the rain on the other.
Wind in my face,
Whistles straight through my ears, blowing away orientation,
Removing all awareness.
The line is tight and heavy, usually my enemy.
Quickly, powerfully launching me towards the sea.
Trying to balance but everything is going wild around me.
Tying to be calm but the world is a moving whirlpool,
My safety plank is a coiled spring amplifying my movements.
My head is a whirlpool, I can't judge my feelings, I can't think rational thoughts.
The world is very hectic, intensity is rising, this is why I love this sport.

For a day and a half I was battered by this line, it was hard to make progress, each time I tried the wind had changed, and it was easy to feel demoralised. However it was a nice challenge, and along with the wind and rain was also sun and a beautiful sunset. I made progress eventually, although my energy was easily sapped by the wind and left me finally feeling pathetic. And to see Jed tame the line, it was impressive to see him walk so calmly though the storm.

And so, the final adventure of the weekend begins: the hitchhike home; 220 miles, 6 hours, 5 rides, 2 signs, 1 small hailstorm and we are home. Why doesn’t everybody travel like this?

Hitchhiking teaches me to relax, on trips I often find myself overexcited. I only have short holidays and I feel I need to use all the time and this is not so relaxing. When you’re on the side of the road for an indefinite period of time all you can do it chill out and have fun, watch the people, wave at the people, see as you put a smile on someone's face even if they don't stop for you. You will always make it and there is no way to hurry, or worry. And maybe I'm naive but I'm pretty sure there are a lot of nice people out there with interesting lives that want to give us a ride and share a story and a smile. The success on arrival is euphoric and makes England feels very small.

Victory wraps with Dora and the adventure is over. You were a great travel companion, always up for trying something new, thank you for the fun time!

Not the weekend I expected when leaving home on Thursday, however, denial did not lead to disappointment but to unexpected adventures.