Walking in the hills

Source A: a newly written contemporary non-fiction-style account.

“I began the marked hill walk at nine on Saturday with two friends. We carried a paper map as well as a phone. The route was six kilometres, and the forecast promised clear weather until late afternoon. At the first junction, a new sign pointed towards a longer path with a viewpoint. We chose the shorter route because one friend was recovering from an ankle injury. It was the first sensible decision of a day that did not feel heroic at all.

The hill offered no dramatic summit, just a widening of the sky. As we climbed, traffic noise loosened its grip and fell away behind us. Grass brushed our boots; a bird lifted from the path with an indignant burst of wings. We stopped often, sometimes for the ankle and sometimes because there seemed no reason to hurry. The map's red line had looked like an instruction to complete something. Out here it felt more like an invitation to pay attention.

At the top, we ate sandwiches on a flat stone and watched cloud shadows travel over fields. My phone remained in my pocket. I would like to claim this was a principled rejection of technology, but its battery was almost empty. Still, the accident was useful. Without recording the view, I spent longer looking at it. We returned by the same modest path, with no record broken and a surprisingly clear memory of where we had been.”

Source B: a newly written letter in a nineteenth-century voice. This is a period-voice simulation, not an archival document.

“Sir, you ask whether the new path has made the hills too easy of access. I cannot share your regret. Before it was laid, only the strongest walkers could cross the broken ground with confidence. Last week I accompanied my younger brother, whose health has long restricted his outings. We proceeded slowly, but we proceeded together, which would previously have been impossible.

I will admit that a rough ascent has pleasures of its own. The difficulty can sharpen the satisfaction of arrival. Yet we should be cautious about calling an obstacle beautiful merely because we ourselves possess the strength to overcome it. My brother stopped repeatedly to observe the flowers growing beside the path. I had passed them on former visits without a thought, being occupied with proving the speed of my legs.

The hill has not diminished because more people may stand upon it. Nor did my brother's enjoyment require him to imitate the exertions of a mountaineer. If there is a loss, it is perhaps the loss of our flattering belief that a fine prospect should be earned through hardship. I am willing to surrender that belief in return for the sight of someone I love discovering a landscape beyond his usual window.”

Refer only to the first paragraph of Source A. Select exactly FOUR true statements. Write their four letters in the answer box.

A. They have no phone.

B. One friend is recovering from an ankle injury.

C. They choose the longer route.

D. They carry a paper map.

E. The walk starts at nine.

F. Rain is forecast for the morning.

G. The route is sixteen kilometres.

H. The narrator walks with two friends.