Walking to form a community

Getting to know a place.

Today I walked in an area that I am still getting to know. I understand that the act of walking physically links me to the land and as I walk I become far more aware of the place than I ever could if I was to just drive through it in a car.

Beautiful clear autumn day on the Kent Downs.

The paths we followed ran across open fields where skylarks flew up when disturbed and the haunting call of the buzzards circling much higher overhead reached down to us. The views were glorious; I could see 360 degrees around and on a clear day such as today I could pick out landmarks all along the North East Kent coast from Whitstable to Pegwell Bay.

Curvy downs and huge skies.

Standing on the ridge looking North we could see the various wind-farms and watched their huge blades moving around in the distance, we could clearly locate the city of Canterbury and along to the east we pinpointed the solitary block of flats in Margate and a more traditional smock windmill near Sandwich.

Distant views and wind-farms.

For me this orientation on walks is imperative. I like to know where I am and for this reason I enjoy poring over a OS map either before or after a walk to put it into context. I like to trace where I have been or plan to go, look at the surrounding landscape, visualise the contour heights and pathways, landmarks and roads to get an idea of what feel a walk will have.

Going up the hill to gain a better view.

Once on the top orientation is easier.

OSmaps are beautiful products. The model has been copied all over the world and there are many OS fans that have set up websites, written books or regularly post about their use. Even the 'trig points' (that the Royal Engineers constructed to take their measurements from to survey the landscape) have a loyal fan base. Their history has been lovingly recorded and even though they are now decommissioned they stand as markers in their own right in the landscape around the British Isles.

Plough marks.

Walking to form a community.

It was with great interest that we saw another two figures walking in the distance. One had the slow gait of a leisurely dog walker, the other had a backpack on and was walking slightly bent forward and moving at quite a pace towards the other. After a few seconds of wondering who they were and where they were going we were once again attracted by the ghostly cry of the buzzards and looked up to try and spot them. When we remembered the other people in the landscape we looked again but could not see them.

The path ahead and less sky.

As a woman walking alone I would have been slightly anxious to know where they had gone, would they be nearer me now, would I be safe? But walking with others, even with one other woman allays that fear. It may be just a personal view but I like to walk in company as I feel safer and can therefore enjoy the experience without any anxiety. It is also more enjoyable to share the experience of observing, discovering and being outside together.

The expansiveness of land and sky.

I would like to create a walking community that encourages others to experience this basic enjoyment, to find joy in the simple pleasure of being outside throughout the seasons, recognising the changes in nature, ourselves and each other.

Walking as a community

Walking as a community.

This time of year is a great time to scour the woodland floor looking for fungi. It feels like a treasure hunt, even if the aim is not to forage for food it can become obsessive, looking down or across the leaf litter hoping for a glimpse of a hidden gem.

A beautiful 'fairy kingdom'?

The fungi that stand out the best in this environment are one of the most obvious poisonous ones the 'Fly Agaric'. It looks pretty but its bright red colour is a warning. There are many other poisonous fungi that do not warn you with their colouring, often they look quite harmless even very similar to edible varieties, so I would never encourage anyone to forage for fungi unless they knew exactly what, where and when and how to pick.

Poisonous 'Fly Agaric' toadstools.

I think that exploring the woodland floor for glimpses of fungi is similar to beach combing as it involves looking down and tracking along without too many upward glances. This is OK on the beach as the position of the sea and coastline are fixed and therefore navigation is obvious, but looking down for too long in a wood can be disorientating and make a short walk a much further one as you try and relocate the main path. But this delay is often priceless as you discover the feeling of being surrounded by nature. Today I could hear the wind move the higher branches of the trees causing loud heavy raindrops to penetrate the lower canopy, birds sang, twigs broke and yet again my friend and I called to each other to confirm our positions and share our finds.

Looking down, this time at a mobile fungi recognition app.

Fungi foragers are pretty canny at keeping their treasures their own. On an earlier woodland walk we encountered mutual friends who carried a basket and seemed to try and hide their finds as we approached. At this time of year there must be a whole community of walkers who scour the woodland areas across Europe looking for fungi treasures, lost in their common purpose and passion for this most primitive form of natural harvesting.

We came across wood sculptures too in this area.

Netwalking

A couple of weeks ago I led the first Blue Banana business groups netwalking event. It was a bright clear day, this was a welcome surprise after the previous day full of downpours and dark grey skies.

The first 'Blue Banana' netwalking event.

We walked along the slopes overlooking the sea, along the prom by the beach huts, up into the tea gardens, around the castle grounds and back to The Marine Hotel for refreshments.

It was great, very productive and enjoyable, everyone said they are looking forward to the next one on the 20^th of November, all are welcome.

And along the prom....

Netwalking allows the two pleasures of walking and networking to be combined. The act of walking creates a forward motion to the conversations too that can be had.

Walking new paths creates a brilliant sense of curiosity.

Friedrich Nietzsche is quoted as saying that 'All truly great thoughts are conceived while walking.'

Walking Weather

Walking Weather

As inhabitants of an Island, I believe we are very adaptable; we have to be as the seasons come and go and we seek to make the best of whatever situation we have. Plans for days out come and go too, depending on the weather the plan can proceed with jubilation or we can adapt the plan to include the cold wind, rain etc. 

Changeable Weather

Surprisingly, not many events get postponed in the UK, we carry on regardless and in doing so, I think we appreciate the sunny, bright, dry days even more.

The weather has been hot for the last week and any walking for pleasure is best done in the early morning and evening. I tend to prefer the evening time when I venture out just before sunset and walk towards the sea, where the sun creates wonderful reflections as it sinks over the horizon.

Contrails cutting through the sky.

I have been surprised at just how many people do the same thing recently. There have been evenings in the last week where it was busy with people just looking and watching the sun go down. There were groups down on the beach, more people up on the grass slopes above, couples walking along the prom towards the sunset and many more on The Street as the tide receded and more of its shingle bank became visible. It heartens me to see this.

 We need natural wonder in our lives and to see a sunset in all its glory blaze forth over the sea is an impressive and humbling sight.

Sunsets

As we were watching the sunset over the last week we heard it referred to as a 'Turner'. JMW Turner loved the light on the Kent coast, especially at Margate where the newly built 'Turner Contemporary' celebrates his connection with the place.

Sunset colour spectrum.

'Have you seen my study-sky and water. Are they not glorious?Here I have my lessons day and night.'JMW Turner, on looking out of his studio window.
I wonder what it is that fascinates us with sunsets. I am not alone when I say this, in fact I am never alone when I watch sunsets, there are often others watching, observing and being in that moment as it happens. That is perhaps what is the fascination, it connects us to ourselves, each other and the bigger picture; the universe!

Sun Dog.

The bigger picture has been on my mind this week, I have swam in the sea and thought of its reach all over the world, the ebb and flow of the tides, the covered and the uncovered and wondered why this element that is so lovely to swim in on a hot day is so frustrating when we have to change or adapt plans if the weather changes and it pours down.

Walking on water with the sky reflected...

Water. I feel inspired by it and its changeable nature. I will follow Turners example and study sky and water. I have an exhibition soon and walking, sky and water will be my muses.

Walking Backwards

 

Walking Backwards

I have been doing this for a couple of weeks now, metaphorically that is, I suspect that if I had physically been doing this for any period of time I would not be in a fit state to write this!

My last blog reflected on moving on, working out what exactly is it that I want to do?

Midsummer Procession 2015.

'I will walk backwards away from what I thought I was going towards, to gain an overview of it and its environs. I will retreat slowly and carefully and see what aspects of the blog writing that I miss, and hopefully this will remind me of why I have kept writing every week for the last year.'

Well, thankfully it hasn't taken long to recognise what I miss and also what it is that I enjoy discovering whilst out walking, that I want to share with others.

Talking to people who have read the blog over the last year and hearing their impressions of it have greatly helped too.

Shadow company on the path.

I have been told that it is easy to 'dip into', another said it was 'an escape', a third told me how much she appreciated reading about my walking experiences when she herself was unable to walk any distance due to poor health, she said it was like she was accompanying me anyway! These comments were very much appreciated as I gather my thoughts on why, how and what type of book I shall be writing.

Finding Form

Despite any disappointment I may have had that the publisher didn't instantly give me a huge cheque for my thoughts when I met up with him the previous week, I have still kept up with any walking, research and networking opportunities! I went to a fascinating poetry reading at the University of Kent with a friend a couple of weeks ago. Tom Chivers was reading from his new (beautiful) book 'Dark Islands', published by Test Centre, 2015. I loved the way his writing was highly observant, imaginative and often playful.

Here are a couple of stanzas from my favorite poem in the book, titled 'The Islanders'.

'The islanders were digital natives,

bronzed and nubile, their ankles garlanded

with flash drives fashioned from conch shells.

At dusk they danced a ritual waltz,

the men intoning Windows log-off

as the sun passed beyond the horizon.'

Tom's work, especially this one, reminded me of some writing by Will Self, in his Penguin mini-book 'Scale' about the future tribes who will inhabit service stations on the defunct motorways. I feel that imagination like this is very accessible and it excites me as it is a subtle and clever twist on our known reality. Both Tom's and my own work is inspired by similar interests although the processes and outcomes are different, so I hope to keep in touch with him.

Reflections.

I will continue to find my form in the next couple of weeks and then I will be off, knowing I am moving in the right direction. I may not be following an existing path but making my own. Perhaps that is what has been the hesitancy in progressing with this book any sooner.

Moving On

Moving On

Time is moving on, even as I write this the clocks continue to tick, life moves forward through the seasons and the smaller daily events that we choose to engage with keep us busy as time duly passes.

A year on from starting this blog I am far more aware of where this work is going and yet blindly naive of its final outcome. With this in mind I have decided to slow down on the blog and concentrate on the big picture.

I was directed to a poem during a workshop with Mary Reynolds-Thompson last year titled 'The Summer Day' by Mary Oliver. Here is the last part of it, which I feel is relevant to how I feel and where I am now.

'I don't know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?'

What exactly is it that I want to do? I met up with a publisher earlier this week and he asked me that. I told him I am in the process of writing a book based on my blog. Silence. Then I remembered the last Friday's 'Blue Banana' business meeting and I understood what he meant.

 

What was my 'prime directive', what strategy was I following? For example, did I want to produce the book as a 'calling card' by which I could market at workshops and talks? What is of value in the blog that I want to share, which reflections have moved my project on? What actually is my project? Why am I even considering writing a book?

 

So with this in mind, this deep questioning of my plan...'with your one wild and precious life', I will walk backwards away from what I thought I was going towards, to gain an overview of it and its environs. I will retreat slowly and carefully and see what aspects of the blog writing that I miss, and hopefully this will remind me of why I have kept writing every week for the last year. What is it that I enjoy discovering whilst out walking, that I want to share with others?

Marking Time

Marking Time

Soon it will be Midsummer. The longest day of daylight hours will be celebrated here in Whitstable again as it has been over the past few years when I will lead a procession of people up the hill on the old Salt Way, walking slowly and mindfully.

The Salt Way, Whitstable.

We will remember the history of this place in another time when it was a main trading route which carried salt from its origins on the coast through to the centre of Kent, where it was needed as an essential commodity.

Seawater, handmade clay vessel and small copper fire-pit.

I initially created this event as a one off piece of fieldwork for the MA project I was working on. I wanted to ‘re-enchant’ this overlooked and disused historic path by creating a spectacle that could be both participated in and viewed as a shared experience. Over the years it has become a regular occurrence and now past participants look forward to it.

Midsummer Fire on the Salt Way.

Midsummer day is a natural marker in the year to take stock of what has already been achieved and take some time out for anticipating future developments and clarifying the flow of our own activity on this lightest of days.

The sun setting last Midsummer.

From past experience I know that the practice of walking together in a procession and slowing down to a steady mindful pace does physically mark time for all of us and creates a wonderful and essential sense of connection with people, place and season, outside our busy lives.

Seasonal Senses

Over Easter I had a great break away, staying in a treehouse in Wales. I wrote about it here, two entries ago. What I most appreciated when I returned to Kent was the abundance of fruit blossom that was out in the orchards, amongst the roadside hedgerows and especially in my garden. We have planted many fruit trees here to add to the much older stock that we were lucky enough to inherit when we moved into the house and its garden 20 years ago.

Returning from the beautiful lush, wild and rocky landscape of Wales to suburban Kent was slightly disappointing until I opened the back door and saw that our garden was full of blossom! The pear blossom was nearly finished and didn't smell as sweet as the fresh apple tree flowers that were busy with bees, but the overall view of the garden was one of abundance and beauty.

Apple blossom.

Throughout the year as the seasons change there are always familiar elements to look forward to. In the woods in which I regularly walk, once the white carpet of Wood Anemones has finished, the Bluebells fragrance the air and their vibrant blue colour can become almost overwhelming in its intensity.

Seasonal variations in light and shadow can be appreciated whilst out walking.

These cyclic seasonal changes are reassuring and a great reminder of our place in the world, putting ‘front page news events’ into perspective. I believe that to walk and observe this regular seasonal change connect us to our senses and in fact sometimes are the only thing that ‘makes sense’. It reminds us that we are also part of the flora and fauna of these islands and that in itself is a humbling thought.

Making Sense

We like things to make sense; it gives us a feeling of well-being and security. With the onward march of the terror group ISIS, record and fatally high temperatures in India, FIFA corruption and constant government policy announcements in the news it can be a relief to walk out and use our senses to remind ourselves of the real world.

Walking allows us to focus on reality.

Walking allows us to slow down and observe seasonal changes and as we do so we start to recognise natural fragrances such as Bluebells or leaf litter, learn bird-songs or understand the light and shadow play at a specific time of year. Wild food foraging allows us to connect deeper to our environment knowing when and where to look for specific berries, leaves, seeds etc.

Wild Food Mandala created by Jo Barker and participants of her foraging walks.

‘The Spell of the Sensuous’ by David Abram was one of my favorite books I used when I studied for my MA. Its subtitle was ‘Perception and language in a More-Than-Human-World’. There is a chapter on the 'Ecology of Magic' that includes this quote,

‘Caught up in a mass of abstractions, our attention hypnotised by a host of human-made technologies that only reflect us back to ourselves, it is all too easy for us to forget our carnal inherence in a more-than-human matrix of sensations and sensibilities.’

Walking encourages us to slow down, that in itself is a start to making sense of it all. When we are at a walking pace we are able to observe and recognise the place that we are in. Steadily one step at a time we are able to become more than human.

Last years Midsummer gathering.

Mindful walking, alone or in a procession, creates a sense of enormous well-being and that is why I will be returning once again to the Salt Way at Midsummer, with others, to share a special experience that will help us make sense of it all.

Familiarity

Familiarity

I have just come back from a 5 day break in Cadiz. It was the third time I have visited this beautiful city and at last I felt a sense of familiarity with its streets. The first time I visited I remember thinking this was an impossibility.

At home in Cadiz.

The streets seemed to have no plan, they criss-crossed the peninsular, some stopped abruptly in a dead end whilst others opened up unexpectantly onto tree filled squares. In my imagination I had compared this place to a cleaner, friendlier and sunnier version of Terry Pratchett’s Discworld city, Ankh Morpork.

A typical street in Cadiz.

The difference between orientating yourself in a northern European city and this one, 59 miles away from Tangiers, Africa as I see it is one of scale and proportion. The climate and topography are obviously very different and these factors have influenced the evolution of the street system, the buildings and therefore our familiarity with its form.

Details of places once visited become familiar landmarks.

Cadiz gets very hot and one way of creating shady passageways amongst the city is to build taller buildings, close together, so that the sea air is funnelled through the streets, allowing for a cooler more comfortable city environment.

Looking up.

I have grown up in the UK where in comparison, the climate and topography is variable and in general the streets are wider and buildings lower than those in Cadiz and this allows landmarks to be more easily recognised from a distance.

Path in the Botanical gardens.

Whether they are manmade or natural these landmarks have given me a spatial awareness by which I have been able to map my environment. Even in a city like London, the vista is wide enough to be able to pinpoint a landmark and orientate myself. The scale of London is larger than that of Cadiz which is more of a pedestrian or human scale model.

Orientation

One of the difficulties of navigating around Cadiz is that it is set out on a peninsular away from the mainland of Spain. This creates many views through the streets that look similar; multiple narrow streets have a brilliant glow at the end, as the space becomes expansive and the sun on the ocean glints in the distance.

Looking out to sea.

Laurie Lee in his novel, ’As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning’ described the city well.

‘ Cadiz, from a distance, was a sharp incandescence, a scribble of white on a sheet of blue glass, lying curved on the bay like a scimitar and sparkling with African light.’

His other descriptions of the city are detailed and don’t paint the place as a pleasant destination at all. I am glad to say that it has changed; it is quite beautiful and charming now, with wonderful architecture, food and culture.

Door detail.

But on this visit, once I had relooked at my old map and taken note of the shape of the peninsular and remembered familiar ‘hang-outs’ from previous years, (such as various bars, the beach and market areas), it took me a while to orientate myself but then it was clear! I continued to add information on this trip to my past knowledge of the place and suddenly it felt familiar.

Detail from one of the many church facades.

This was a very comforting feeling to achieve and made me realise once again how important my project could be, connecting people to place through walking, discovering or rediscovering their locality.

Festivals and Rituals

The reason why I have visited Cadiz so often in the last few years is because of my interest in Flamenco. I have always loved the music and costume, so when a teacher offered classes in flamenco movement 5 years ago, I joined up. Four years ago we travelled out to Jerez, a neighbouring town of Cadiz and participated in our first Feria.

The Feria at Jerez is a place to promenade.

The history of the ‘Feria de Caballo’, (Jerez horse fair), goes back to over 500 years ago, when it was the location for a livestock fair, which ran from April to September. Over time it grew in popularity and stands were put up by local wine and sherry producers to sell to the spectators and participants. The specific dates are based on a three week timescale after Semana Santa, (the week leading up to Easter Sunday.)

Promenading by day and night.

People in this area have connected to the place where they live by participating in this event each year, watching the horses parade up and down the park and dancing Sevillanas in the surrounding ‘casetas’. This shared experience of an annual event is valuable to a community in many ways. It can bring people together, build community, encourage pride in a place and also inspire tourists to visit.

Flamenco costume in Cadiz streets.

During my MA study I researched the history of connection to the land through ritual use, including processional movement, symbolic landscape markers and ceremonial gatherings. The feria at Jerez was very interesting to visit with these aspects in mind.

Here in the UK there were many more annual festivals that have been lost. One I am particularly aware of was the ‘Scouring of the White Horse’ at Uffington in Oxfordshire. Thomas Hughes of ‘Tom Brown’s School Days’ fame, wrote a book with this title back in 1859 and depicts the ceremonial annual practice of scouring the chalk cut horse, so that its white shape can be seen with greater clarity from a distance.

The ceremonial path at Avebury has inspired me to paint.

The artist Paul Nash took this photo, he was also fascinated by the chalk white horse.

There is an Iron Age fort up on the hill, just above the chalk figure, it was in this enclosure, named ‘Uffington Castle’, that the festivities took place. His book details all the merry goings on and is an interesting read.

Midsummer

Next month it will be midsummer and yet again I will quietly lead a group of people up along a section of the Salt Way path to light a fire and enjoy being in that moment at that place. Over the last few years it has become even more special as I share the experience with others and they all add their own trace and story to the route.

The section of the Salt Way that we walk at Midsummer.

One lady introduced her daughter to the walk last year and they both shared a very special experience as the sun set and we sat around the fire at the top of the hill. The journey back down was lovely as the lanterns lit up the procession and people were chatting happily as fireworks went off in the distance at the harbour. I am sure this year will be wonderful again for the participants and any potential onlookers.