Fine line black tattoo of a mountain range above the word wanderlust in script on skin, with a lake landscape photograph below.

Mountain line and wanderlust script tattoo

Fine line · Black and grey · Photo

The top panel shows a fine line tattoo of a mountain range with the word wanderlust written in cursive script beneath it. The linework is thin and black, with some slight redness around the lines on the skin. The lower panel is a landscape photograph of a turquoise lake framed by pine trees and snow-capped mountains under a pale sky.

Fine line Lettering Mountain Wanderlust Script Lake Tree Landscape

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You have the order of service folded into quarters, and by the time the vicar reaches the second reading you have drawn the same ridge of peaks on the back of it four times, each one a little steeper than the last. Your sister keeps nudging your elbow to sit up. The hall smells of carpet shampoo and the lilies somebody's cousin drove down from Lancaster in a borrowed van.

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Your nephew Tom, the groom, stands by the window, pale as the paper in your hands. He looks across at you the way he did at nine, when he'd lost a tooth in the rhubarb and wanted you to tell him it didn't count. Years ago, on a bench above Ullswater, you promised him you would take him somewhere with a view that made a grown man forget his speech. He has never let you forget it either.

When the speeches come, you stand up with a pint of bitter and say very little. You tell them about the wet summer you spent on a campsite beside a lake so turquoise it looked chlorinated, and how the water held the mountains upside down until the wind came along and shook them loose. Nobody laughs in the right places. Priya does, quietly, into her napkin, and that is enough.

Afterwards you find Tom out by the car park, tie undone, staring at the hedge where the hills should be. You hand him the crumpled order of service with its pencilled ridge. He turns it over and frowns at the word you scribbled beneath, the one you always used for leaving. "Where's that, then?" he asks. You tell him, and you watch him decide it is far enough.