I did something today that I haven't done in all the Fringes I have attended. I went up
Arthur's Seat. I am too classy to do a bumming joke here, as you all know. I have always meant to climb it and always wanted to, but never got round to it. To be honest once the drinking and gigging begins I generally prefer to stay in bed all day than climb up an extinct volcano. But I need to get fit and I have decided to forget about the show for another day of fun and rillling, (even if the rillling involves a lot of quite arduous walking) and my girlfriend really wanted to go up. So what I have eschewed for over two decades, thanks to her, I have finally achieved. It must be love.
I had been told that it was a pretty easy walk, but was glad that I'd rescued my hiking boots from the car when I went down to check it was still there last night, as it was a bit more climby than walky and the boots really helped on the loose stones and steep paths. Luckily I had two pairs of boots and luckily my girlfriend has the same size feet as me (thanks it has to be said to my dainty child sized feet, rather than her having man-sized plates of meat), making her also my hiking Cinderella. If the boot fits....
There are several routes up the hill and though wikipedia says it is "quite easy to climb" I found myself struggling a bit as we got about half way up on one of the several approaches from Holyrood Palace. I was wishing I had got this thing out of the way when I was 20 and it might have been relatively easy. It didn't help my feelings of inadequacy that families with tiny children seemed to be easily making the climb, whilst slightly more impressively some other hardier fellows and ladies were choosing to run to the top, bounding past us effortlessly. As I ground to a halt for a little break I turned around for the first time and got a taster of what was so amazing about ascending this blasted hill. The view of Edinburgh and the docks was breath-taking. We hadn't seen the half of it yet.
I knew I couldn't turn around now. I had to conquer this mountain or die trying, an apt demise perhaps to be finally killed by this city. I had once come up with the idea of doing a show that would take place on this hill, and would involve walking up, with the audience, using various stop off points as a place to recount tales from my life, but keeping up a monologue all the way. It would be a very hard show to perform, but also quite a commitment to watch it. Especially if it rained. It would be something of an Edinburgh happening I guess, but I would also need to be 100% fitter than I am ever likely to be again in my life. I think it will stay on the drawing board. It wouldn't count as a one-off either. I think it would have to be every day, whatever the weather, however few people turn up for it. Well you never know. At least there'd be no venue costs - though I bet the City would find some way to make me pay. It's not like I've done anything for them.
But for now all I cared about was putting one booted foot in front of the other and hoping that eventually this Hell would be over and that my girlfriend wouldn't have to call mountain rescue to have my bloated cadaver air-lifted off this mountain and taken to the morgue.
A couple of times we had to clamber up sheer rock faces (or so they seemed to me) actually using our hands to traverse, but this was mainly due to our ineptitude rather than this being like Mount Everest. I think I could have stayed on my feet, but it felt safer to use my hands and more like being a little kid again.
Finally with a good second wind I made the top and a 360 degree view of Edinburgh and the surrounding countryside and sea. It was really awesome. Well worth the trip and the risk of heart attack. It was also something of a personal triumph. To finally have got up here. To see what the fuss was all about. But maybe the climb was a fitting metaphor for my struggles in this city. Maybe this year by conquering the hill that overlooks the Fringe I will conquer the Fringe itself. It seems things are going my way. Now all the first five nights are sold out. I have never seen the like. If I'd climbed this hillock earlier this would all have happened before. Maybe the seat is magic, as powerful a totem as I now wear on my top lip.
I don't know about that. It felt amazing to be up here though, even if the clouds were dark and foreboding and suggested some great storm to come.
Then I was a bit sick in my mouth. Perhaps I shouldn't have eaten that panini just before I began the ascent or perhaps that was the perfect metaphor for the Fringe. All that effort followed by the decision whether to swallow or spit out your own vomit. Or was the greatest metaphor that after all my struggle and pain, a four year old boy then came bounding up the rocks behind me. It was his first Edinburgh and he was still much more prepared and successful than me!
And what if it all signifies success? Then straight away came the rapid and irreversible descent. Much easier to do. Gravity pulling you down to where you belong.
I thought about trying to climb the hill every day of the Festival. It would certainly be as effective as going to the gym. But I think just the one time will do for me. Maybe in another 22 years I'll give it another go.
I am pleased to say though that after two days of vigorous physical activity and relatively healthy food my jeans are somewhat looser than they were when I arrived.
How thin would I be if I made this a daily pilgrimage? If I could come up with a show at the same time I might be able to make it profitable too.
I know that on at least one Fringe Canadian comedian and madman Craig Campbell was one of the lunatics running up and down this thing on a daily basis, with, I believe, a rucksack full of rocks on his back. I don't think I'll try that. Not unless the show starts going really badly and I want to die.
But to show you how committed I am, after the 90 minutes of Hell on the mountain I not only walked home, but stopped off for an (admittedly very short) swim on the way.
Tomorrow I do my tech and the Fringe begins for many and I will start doing some much needed editing on my show. But for now I am on holiday and have outdone Edmund Hillary, whilst looking like a Nazi Charlie Boorman.
Arthur's Seat, thou are defeated.
Edinburgh, I am coming for the rest of you.
