I stand on a grassy slope, gazing at the impending mountain. Mist billows at its ridges, charging into the sky. I begin the climb upward towards the Bannau Brycheiniog mountain range.
As the grass gives way to sandstone slabs, the air shifts and a coolness arrives. I check my supplies again. My compass, inherited from my grandad, a map, and extra coat are all in my bag. I need to be prepared for unpredictable weather. When I reach the crossway to the first peak, Corn Du, wisps of mist are spiralling alongside the track, beckoning me forwards. The steep climb begins and the race is on.
The mist and I strike our way to the top, each hoping to beat the other. Tumbles of rock bar the first pinnacle and I scramble over them into the spiritual ground of the ancient Welsh. Ahead of me, there is a plateau with a bronze age burial cairn. I climb the cairn, and look down on my misty opponent as it seeps on to Corn Du, exhausted. Triumphant, I start the ascent towards Pen y Fan, which is the highest peak in south Wales.
As I reach the final summit, the mist has caught its breath. It billows towards me, enveloping the crown of the national park. My vision is smothered by a cloud of white until rents begin to show in the sky and sunlight strikes the rose-gold grass of the mountainside. The mist drifts away, trailing tendrils in farewell. It has definitely won the race.
Emily, 12
Read today’s other YCD piece, by Athira, 10: ‘Squirrels, seaweed and a salmon river’