By: Blonde Two

I have been on a fair few mountain walks over the last couple of weeks (all of them over 1000 metres) and have decided that my seeming lack of fitness can be put down, not to the steepness of slope, but to the Thin Air. “Thin Air” is a strange expression that I didn’t really understand until I visited those lovely Austrian Alps (watch me wave them goodbye out of the truck window). It is true though, the air is thin. Not because of a lack of oxygen (although I believe this to be true) but because of its great contrast to Fat Air.

London, for example, has the fattest air that I have ever breathed (with the possible exception of LA). Fat Air takes effort to suck into your lungs, smells thick with unmentionable stuff and makes everything look a hazy shade of grey. Thin air, by contrast smells of nothing, feels as though a hair (Blonde of course) moving through it would slice it and carries only the lightest hints of grass, pine trees and another smell that I can’t define but would like to bottle.

Even at the snail’s pace that it seems to induce in me, an hour walking in Thin Air must be better for a Blonde than a day walking in Fat Air. I am looking forward to testing my new theory on Dartmoor air … looking forward to it very much!