Timely Walks

Timely Walks

Over the last couple of days it has become apparent to me that how we walk and at what time we walk are two very important factors in connecting people to place.
 

Walking with friends.

With ever increasing traumatic events happening in the world and feeling terribly helpless to do anything, I have found solace in connecting to the natural world through walking. Recognising just how privileged I am to be able to experience real peace in my life, I have embraced the simple act of walking out along age old paths and viewing the simplicity and sheer golden beauty of the sun setting and the voluptuous full moon rising.

A 'SunDog' overhead yesterday.

We are approaching the Autumn Equinox, where the day and nights are of equal length. It is a time of balance, as the nights will soon get longer and the daylight hours lessen. It has been wonderful to experience watching a ‘Super-moon’ rise majestically from behind houses onshore as we stood out at sea watching the sun go down over the Isle of Sheppey.

Sun setting over the Isle of Sheppey.

We were standing, once again, on The Street, a natural bank of shingle that projects out into the sea at low tide and is exposed enough to allow people to walk up it, as if it was a street.
 

The Street at low tide.

I have written about the Street numerous times in this blog and the preceding one. www.thesaltwayfarer.blogspot.co.uk

Seasonal Celebrations

I guess I am quite fascinated by The Street, but I am not the only one, for a start, it has its own review page on Tripadvisor! I often get a call from a close friend to say she is going to be there for the sunset and would I like to join her? The walk out to the end of the Street is always wonderful; it feels quite magical to be so far out ‘in’ the sea, looking back at the shore in the distance.

The Street, looking onto shore, from the sea.

At these times of significant sun sets and moon risings, the atmosphere of the place changes. The sky and sea to the West of the Street glow; the opposite happens on the eastern side. It is all hues of blue; even purple in places, it is quite wonderful to see.

The sky and sea glowing to the West.

Cool blue tones can be seen as the moon rises.

It surprises me how people seem to be drawn to it at low tide and start the long walk out to the end. It is often very chilly out there, especially at Imbolc, in February.

At the end of the Street, looking further out to sea.

The other evening was exactly the right time to stand upon it, listening to the seagulls flying overhead, the water lapping on each side and observe the spectacle that happens at specific times throughout the year and has probably always been noted, as long as humans have been able to walk out onto it.

Barefoot Walking

I have read about this walking practice in the past and listened to a very good ‘Ramblings’ episode on Radio Four with Claire Balding a while ago, in which she shared a walk with a man who walked everywhere in this way.  The worry of walking onto something sharp or foul has always put me off doing this anywhere else than in  my garden, but a couple of days ago I gave it a proper try in Victory Wood. The wood is young and the paths are lush with clover and grass. I took off my sandals and sank my bare feet in the green. To start with I looked down and noted all the hazards I could see and avoided them; brambles, dog/fox poo etc. then I got bored of looking down and looked up  more, ahead and was surprised at just how comfortable it was. My feet could feet the contour of the ground underfoot and the depth and texture of the vegetation I was walking on. My walking companion pointed out just how quiet it was. There was no more rhythmic pace of the sole of the shoe on the ground. It was almost silent. Hunting barefoot must have been the only way to approach an animal quietly. I am going to try and walk barefoot more on different terrains and see just what it can do to increase my awareness during a walk. I walked up the same section of the path barefoot last night in the dark; we had gone out to watch the sun set and the full moon rise from a brow of a hill overlooking the Thames Estuary and Whitstable.
 

Seeing the sea from the brow of the hill.

The feel of the ground under my feet last night was so different. The fear of what I could step in was gone; it was too dark to look. I walked confidently and looked ahead, seeing the profile of the hill in silhouette above me.

walking barefoot

My feet could feel the wet dewy grass and clover. It was so cold. My insteps were curved around the earth, pushing uphill and they felt frozen. It was a relief to put my sandals back on, and again, I noted the change in noise, from almost silent to a ‘flapping’ beat. It seems I walk differently when barefoot. The foot rolls onto the ground in a graceful move, rather than an abrupt flat motion.
 

Looking towards Hernehill.

Looking out to sea.

To walk mindfully, barefoot, along an ancient path will be one experience I will try to have before the seasons shift a bit more and the cold weather comes.

 (I completed my MA last September and recorded the last two months of it in another blog called www.thesaltwayfarer.blogspot.co.uk

Please feel free to look at that anytime, as it is from that, that I am where I am now.)