"He set my feet upon a high cliff and made my footing sure"
If you want to be persnickety about it, I've never actually made it all the way to the very tippy-top of Arthur's Seat.
There's a point very near the top where the path becomes quite narrow and exposed, and I get that out-on-a-ledge feeling, and my fear of heights tells me not to go any farther. But if I make it that far, I count it as attaining the summit: I've managed physically to reach the highest point that's possible for me psychologically.
The last time I attained the summit was in the spring of 2016, before the Late Unpleasantness occurred. It was pretty taxing for me: more so, no doubt, because I was carrying an extra twenty or thirty pounds. Even a few months of walking around hilly Edinburgh doesn't quite prepare me to spring up Arthur's Seat without pausing for breath, I find.
When I was back for the Festival in August of last year, I gave it a shot again. I didn't get terribly far up before I had to call it quits. I was still too weak from my long illness; I didn't have the endurance, didn't have the breath, to make it even halfway.
This morning I decided on the spur of the moment to give it another try. Why not? I have these excellent walking boots now; might as well put them to use.
I didn't exactly spring up Arthur's Seat without pausing for breath -- many times. But I made it. I felt, in fact -- this may be an illusion, or wishful thinking, but I don't think so -- easier than I remembered it being four years ago. Little by little I made my way up higher, taking in the views . . .
until I attained what, for me, counts as the summit.
"Let them give thanks to the Lord for his mercy *
and the wonders he does for his children.
Let them offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving *
and tell of his acts with shouts of joy."
And, just as a bit of extra joy, I met a magpie on the way down who seemed very keen to stand still to have his picture taken:
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