A girl walks a dog
To the crest of the hill
Her thoughts of word unspoken.

The last flags of day are torn on the west,
And all the clouds are broken.

Once, a day was a wave through the corn ,
A breeze across the sand.
I can hear the harbour wall sigh
From 40 miles inland.

Jon was born in upper Weston in a house looking out on the Roundhill. It was one of his earliest walks, and hillwalking later took him to Skye, the Pyrenees, and the Himalayas. “You should never forget your first summit or where you started,” he writes. “I couldn’t ‘log’ Kelston as significant when I qualified as a mountain leader but it was always in mind.” He now lives back in Bath, and once again has a view of Kelston.