You know what we don't have in Britain any more? Slag heaps - huge black mountains made of coal dust and nutty slack from the mines. There was hardly a spot in the city where I grew up that didn't offer a view of at least one slag heap, usually more.
My brother came home one day from his house in rural Oxfordshire (where they don't have slag heaps, but do have rich folks who frequently conquer bits of the Himalayas,) pointed to the nearest slag heap and asked:
'Have you ever climbed that?'
'Because it's there?'