When I was a kid I used to love visiting my aunt and uncle's farm.

While my parents chatted to them about boring grown-up things,

I was allowed to go outside and play.

At first I had to stay close so that they could keep an eye on me.

But as I got older, they let me go further afield.

I was thrilled. The farm was my playground and finally I could explore it.

I would go down to the field and watch the cows, try my best, not always successfully, to avoid stepping

on the cowpats. Then I'd sit on my uncle's tractor and pretend to drive it. Sometimes I'd

explore some of the derelict buildings. Imagine what they might have looked

like when they were new. The farm was pretty old, so there were plenty of crumbling structures

for me to explore, all with my uncle's dog by my side.

She was aboard a collie named Bonnie, and she would

would sprint around the buildings and fields,

although never straying too far from me.

Energetic, but fiercely loyal. This was the happiest time of my life, but that would soon

change. It was one of our regular visits.

The grown-ups were chatting inside the farmhouse as usual, and I was off on one of my adventures.

This particular day, I decided to explore the main barn. It wasn't anything exciting really. It was just the biggest

barn in the property where they stored the hay for the cows. The hay was covered with the

tarp to protect it from the elements and way down with all tractor tyres.

There was so much of it that it formed a small mountain in the middle of the barn, nearly touching the high ceiling.

After some time, I had finally plugged up the courage to climb this mighty mountain.

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