It always happens. Some freeloader jumps on board for a firstclass freebie flight through the woodland. It’s normally the sharpest and jauntiest pebble of the land that floats through a triumphant arc and lands in the bottom of my shoe. Slithering through a 2mm opening with laser-like precision. No other purpose than to stab the arch of my foot into oblivion. I’d met my new nemesis on a little ledge of sun-baked mud that came after the ankle-stroking heather, before the eye-tickling hill roll and beside the head-swooshing tree jump. Perfectly placed on my favourite corner of my favourite trail. A corner that pushes your wheels upright and points you back on track in time for the next equally astounding turn. In a supportive way, I might add. Not like a McDonalds bouncer, more like a sensitive tennis coach.
How could such a small piece of this vibrant and perfectly sculpted natural landscape cause such brain-shaking pain? Of course I didn’t stop to remove the stone from my shoe – that would be too sensible. I persevered and, as I floated through trail nirvana, I started thinking about the stone making its way home with me and the concept of stealing nature. The stone stabbed all the wrong nerves, but did spark a genius idea… ‘What if I bring it home?’ Not as the evil rock of death, the more aggressive cousin to the Lego brick, but as my favourite piece of the hillside instead. Imagine if the whole trail magically fell into my shoe and ended up working its way home with me. My bestest ever trail. Picked up, carried away, and placed conveniently for my enjoyment whenever I want. Told you. Genius.