Purple Mountain - Part 1

 

‘We can’t walk there, it’s not safe.’

 

‘Why, it looks uneven in places but surely we can give it a go, we’re wearing sturdy enough shoes.’

 

Arty stopped and pointed at a sign which read, This is the site of Purple Mountain, a once sacred site, disturbed irreversibly by spiritual tourism. The area is now considered too dangerous to set foot upon. Please respect the boundary, marked with red flags and go around the edge of the site only.

 

‘I’ve always been told not to walk there, that’s all.’

 

‘But,’ Dill’s eyes sparkled, ‘it looks magical.’

 

The patch of land indeed looked inviting, green and boggy in places but that bright shade of verdant green we associate with healthy landscapes. Being early summer it was dotted with brightly coloured wild flowers and inhabited by active birds who filled the air with their bright notes. Within the undulations, crystal clear water flowed here and there, rising from springs and running away in playful rivulets which seemed to sing as they made contact with the surrounding rocks and pebbles.

 

It was Dill’s first visit to Arty’s home village and their relationship was still fresh, slightly unsure but exciting. He was a bit taken aback by her fascination at the site of Purple Mountain, he’d always taken it for granted. The place had appeared quite boring to him as a child, a bit of rough grass, some brown water and so uneven and clumpy. He’d never been particularly curious about it or thought of ignoring the signs and entering. 

 

There was something flattering about his new girlfriend enjoying one of the few curiosities of his dull little village. Dill was from the big city and he’d been feeling insecure about bringing her home, he’d feared that she might mock the tight confines of his neighbourhood and assume that his childhood experiences were somehow less worthy than her own.

 

Arty laughed nervously. ‘My grandparents remember when it was an actual mountain,’ he said, ‘they used to say walking here, on its footprint would bring terrible luck. I was going to show you the river on the other side, there are black swans there, we can feed them if you like but we have to go all the way round.’

 

‘Surely it’s quicker to go across, we can pick our way on the rocks.’

 

Arty stopped and frowned. ‘I’m not sure. I literally never see anyone walk beyond the warning signs.’

 

 

‘That thing about the bad luck,’ Dill said laughing a little, ‘it sounds like something only old people say.’ She began to walk past the sign onto the site of Purple Mountain, on her light pink trainers she leapt from rock to rock, slipping slightly and giggling. ‘Come on, we can pick our way through. I need to hold your hand, Arty. Honestly, what's the worst that can happen?’

 

Arty watched as she gingerly negotiated the boggy terrain, trampling on the tiny flowers and dislodging sodden clumps of moss from the small rounded rocks. She was very beautiful and she looked even better surrounded by nature. He couldn’t wait until his parents returned from work later so that they could meet her and felt sure that they would be shocked that he’d managed to land such a precious girl. Now he just had to hold onto her.

 

Suddenly she slipped and had to grip onto a patch of soft purple heather. ‘Okay, don’t worry,’ Arty shouted, ‘I’m coming!’

 

They began to tread deeper into the site, feeling a mutual sense that this was forbidden terrain. There was no evidence of human disturbance, at least not in recent years, perhaps decades; no litter or footsteps or bare patches, indeed it resembled a sort of fairyland like the ones Dill had read about as a child.

 

‘It won’t take long to get to the river will it. I’m glad you didn’t bottle it. It would have taken ages to go all the way round, Arty! I can’t wait to meet your parents by the way.’

 

Arty was feeling a bit peculiar and exceptionally tired. It was early afternoon and he hadn’t done much that day, walked the dog, tidied his bedroom in anticipation of Dill’s arrival. Not wanting to sound weak, he ignored his increasingly overwhelming fatigue and kept walking. ‘No, he said, ‘they’re going to love you. I just know it.’

 

‘Hey look at that big rock formation, it almost looks as if it were part of a cave once, look, with the roof all collapsed in there.’

 

‘Oh, that’s The Crying Lady.’

 

‘The what? The…Crying Lady?’

 

‘Yes, that’s what it looks like from the other side, by the river. You’ll see when we get there. It looks like a woman clutching one hand to her heart and the other wiping her eyes, with her head bowed as if crying.’

 

‘I wonder why she’s crying..’

 

‘Probably because she once lived in Purple Mountain and now she is here, exposed,’ he grunted, ‘not that she’s actually crying. It’s just part of the legend. My parents know more about it than me, they can tell you later.’

 

‘Hey Arty, I’m not being funny but..’

 

‘But what?’

 

‘I feel a bit odd, I think I need to take a breather. Can we sit for a minute? I don’t know if, maybe I’m getting sick or something. I just feel a bit wheezy in my chest. You know I used to have asthma as a child but I thought it was gone.’ She laughed, ‘Perhaps it’s all the fresh air out here, I’m not used to it.’

 

Arty was feeling unwell too, it was like he couldn’t catch his breath but he was reluctant to share this with Dill because he wanted to be her protector. They sat together in a dry patch of bracken. ‘Just let me know when you want to go on. We must be about a quarter of the way now, across where the mountain once stood.’

 

Dill pulled a frond of bracken down towards her face and inhaled sharply. ‘Wow that smells so fresh,’ she said. ‘But what happened to the mountain, where did it go?’

 

‘I don’t really know, I’ve heard different things. Officially it was some sort of landslide, maybe caused by too many visitors but there’s lots of folklore surrounding Purple Mountain around here.’

 

Dill shook her head. ‘You know, I just love things like that. We need more of it in the world.’

 

‘More of what.’

 

‘Folklore,’ she said and they both burst out laughing and kissed but when they pulled away they were both gasping for breath. ‘God, I feel so weak, maybe we should go back to your’s now and eat something.’

 

‘What and not go to the river? I mean, that’s fine with me. I don’t feel so good myself. My heart is racing and I feel sort of, I don’t know, crushed I suppose.’

 

‘Do you really?’

 

‘Yes, I didn’t want to say, in case you thought I was a wimp or something.’

 

She stared at the side of his head, noticing how the colour had drained from his complexion. ‘Arty?’

 

‘Yes?’

 

‘Do you think there are toxic gases coming out of the ground?’

 

He looked very stern and tried to limit how much air he was inhaling as he said, ‘I never thought of that. Maybe. I don’t know.’

 

‘It would explain why nobody comes here and the warning signs. Let’s go back, come on, the way we came,’ Dill said breathlessly, ‘I don’t need to see…the black swans or whatever. We can go tomorrow and go all the way round, the long way. It’s all my fault, I pressured you.’

 

‘No, it’s my fault. I should have been strong and refused to come here.’

 

They began to walk back, clutching each other's hands. Somehow the colours of the landscape seemed to be getting brighter and brighter until they were almost blinding and the relief on the ground, the layers of moss and the small rock formations appeared so detailed that it was like some sort of lucid dreaming. 

 

Such was their exhaustion that they were simply too tired to attempt to communicate. It took all their strength to keep walking, watching their step to avoid slips or falls. They were both aware of each other’s heavy breathing and they were worried about whether they would make it out at all but also reluctant to voice these concerns.