Out for a Walk

Out for a Walk

The best thing about our temperate and changeable climate at the moment is when, at long last, sunshine bursts through cloud and blue skies appear overhead. We usually have drier weather over here in the South East corner of England than the West and Kent is known for being one of the driest counties, so imagine my dismay when the run up and duration of the half term holidays was cloudy, grey, windy and very cold. This is apt and more expected weather for the dulled skies and morose tone of early February or mid November, but not for the start of June and whilst the West of the UK enjoyed unusually hot temperatures and bright strong sunshine, we shivered and put the heating back on.



The sun setting this week, more to the east off of the Isle of Sheppey.

Sun setting a few weeks ago, over the end of the island.


 

We wrapped up and went for quick walks, mainly at the end of the day when the sunsets still glowed and we hoped for some sunshine the next day, but generally we stayed inside envying our friends who lived or were holidaying in the West country and wondering just how bright and 'outdoorsy' life could be if we lived in another place: South Africa, Australia or even closer, Spain. But then the weather broke and we had sun, all was forgiven and we went out for a walk, on one of the lowest tides of the year, out to meet the sea, across the rippled sand and mud, looking towards the bright sunset reflecting on the water and the wet sand and I couldn't think of a better place to be.

 

The sunset reflecting on the water and rippled sand and mud.

Intertidal Magic

There is something in this transitory place, the intertidal zone on a beach at low tide which feels magical, mysterious and intimate. The tide goes out exposing the sea floor and all its delights, there are amongst other things, shipwrecks, fossils, seaweed, shrimps, tiny fish, stranded sea gooseberries and jellyfish, scuttling crabs and so much life. The seabed is alive, it gurgles and pops, molluscs create bubbles, seagulls take advantage of the harvest now available, strange remnants of sea sponge and other deeper water animals can also sometimes be seen.

Finding delights!



Shipwrecks too...

To imagine that this life on the seabed is just a part, a layer of life, when the tide brings the sea back in is amazing. Where I was walking right there, fish, lobsters, cuttlefish, seals and far more life, than I could ever list or know, would be swimming in the next 12 hours.

Detail of the wood of the boat.

 

The tide comes in from the east, it flows in around the coast from Reculver and Thanet, obviously coming a lot further than this, but the ebb and flow of the tides is such a huge natural phenomenon that we can forget its power and cease to wonder at it. But having learnt to sail off the coast of Herne Bay over the last few years the direction of the tidal flow became apparent; before that I thought that the tide came in and out parallel to the beach as that is what it looks like from the shore.

Looking back to shore.

I was very happy that my youngest son came out with me on this walk, we shared our finds, mine were fossils and pebbles, his were shrimps, crabs, huge strands of Kelp seaweed and the tiniest Cockles I have ever seen.

Subtle colours and patterns in such a magical place.

 

The tiniest Cockle.

At the edge of the tide-line I looked out to sea, watching the windmills, the sunset and pinpointing the WW2 sea-forts. I waited and recognised the noises, the look of the tide and the bird behaviour, called my son and we walked back in together as the tide turned, towards the distant shore, with its bright beach huts and grassy slopes knowing that a long awaited precious sunny day had been appreciated to the full.

For your information, my next Netwalking event is on the 8th of July 2016.

Please call or text me on 07432679164 or clare@people-to-place.co.uk

Walking Freely

Walking Freely.

There is often a choice that needs to be taken. Whether we choose to walk or drive is just one of those choices. Which road or path to take is another.

Road, pavement or footpath?

There is a well known poem by Robert Frost, written in 1916, it ends with this revelation.  I haven’t studied this poem, so I don’t know if it has deeper significant meanings, it may well do as it was written in the middle of the First World War, but I like its simplicity and his understanding of choice.

‘Two roads diverged in wood, and I- I took the one less travelled by, and that has made all the difference.’ Robert Frost

 

Two paths diverging, Sharsted Court. Newnham, Kent.

Walking frees you up. I can remember, whilst learning to drive many years ago that I found I had difficultly in navigating my familiar surroundings. I had to add another layer to my mental map of the place that I knew. It wasn’t just the increased speed of travel that threw me; it was a combination of things.

There were one way streets, dual carriageways and tricky spots, such as steep hills that I would try to avoid, in case I had to do a hill-start.

An upended old boundary stone, with beautiful hand-carved letter.

Walking around my local area was far freer. I could walk where I liked. I used alleyways a lot to cut through between roads, sneaking a peek into other people’s lives via their gardens. I walked over pedestrian bridges, noticing the contrast of the speeding traffic below and my more leisurely and slower gait.

Our shadows are evidence of being out in nature.

When I chose to drive I would find myself unable to observe as much as I was used to. I missed finer details of seasonal change and the heightened awareness that comes from being outside and being able to experience your surroundings with all senses.

The Spell of the Sensuous

This is the title of one of the most insightful books that I dipped into whilst studying for my Masters. I say dipped into, as I will admit I haven’t read it (yet) cover to cover, but like many other wonderful books it is so full of teachings that these momentary immersions can give powerful insights. It was written by David Abram in 1996 and explores the connection between the landscape and the human, ‘suggesting language as one of the factors responsible for humanity’s sensorial disassociation from nature.’

Walking through the seasons.

When I think back to the earlier mentioned days of driving, I think it was a disassociation from the actual experience of being in the environment, in nature that I missed when navigating familiar routes.

 

Walking in the woods, in Springtime.

Being contained within a car and moving at speed stopped me being aware of the actual place I was traveling through. I was in my own ‘bubble’, a man-made environment that I inhabited, along with specific possessions that I needed for the journey, such as music tapes, sunglasses and maps.

Had I been walking, I would have employed all senses; the pace of the walk would have allowed me to hear sounds such as traffic, birdsong and voices. I would even have been aware of subtle scents in the air. Walking allows us to inhabit the space fully.

A Woodland Walk

As I walked out in to the bright sunshine, last Thursday with my sister in her local woodland, we went along a path that we often use.

Taking a familiar path...

Snowdrops were looking small and precious amongst the brown fallen autumn leaves on the edge of the wood.

 

Snowdrops.

Bluebell leaves were starting to poke through deeper leaf litter further along the path and the emerging spiky shoots of Wild Garlic edged the muddy path.

Bluebell shoots poking through the fallen leaves.

We could smell fox, leaf mould and pine in some areas. The wind blew coldly on us as we approached the edge of the estate.

Looking from the woods toward Doddington Estate.

Here we stood and looked back into the wood and saw the sunlight bright and raw, shine onto tree bark, woodland floor and fallen trees.

Bright sunlight on the tree bark showed up much detail.

The sky was a sharp blue and highlighted the detail of the tree canopy, which waved above us.

 

Looking up the tree we saw a squirrels dray, high up.

Being in nature literally made us stop and stare, there was so much to see and hear, birds singing, trees creaking etc, that I now understand even more that it is an immersive experience.

 

Colourful lichen.

This experience cannot be fully understood by those who do not choose or are unable to discover it for themselves.

This is why I am working on two projects at the moment. Both of these are collaborations with other artists. One is working with schools in Kent, encouraging local children to walk out and about into their environs. The other project similarly is about connecting people to place through walking, creating an immersive experience that will engage and inspire.

Being in the environment capturing moments of nature.

The actual form that these will take needs further development and funding, which is being sought at the moment.

Seeing reminders of past seasons, eg: sweet chestnut cases.

Personally, I am putting on a number of day workshops that will explore the themes of walking that I have been studying, exploring and writing about over the last 4 years or so. One is called appropriately, ‘Connecting People to Place’, the second is ‘Women, Walking and Wellbeing’, as I think there is a special place for women, walking in the environment, one which may have been overlooked for a long time.

Old fence posts and trunk, moss attached to both.

Beautiful ring of moss around young sapling.

So, my choice at the moment is to concentrate on these two projects and the two day courses, to encourage people out, to walk in the world and allow them to connect creatively with the place in which they inhabit.

Sunshine

Sunshine

When the sun shines at this time of year it is wonderful. The daylight hours are still getting shorter as we approach the Winter Solstice and any reminder of the bright, balmy sunny days of the summer make me glad.

Bright sunlight captures the beauty of the delicate details.

I have just come back from a fairly short walk along the promenade in Tankerton. I decided that on these rare bright sunny clear winter days, it is better to go out and walk for a short time rather than put off the event to another day. Yes, there are always more ‘useful’ things I could be doing, especially at this busy time of year, but needs must and I have a new reason to prioritise walking.

 

The sequel to 'The Artists Way'.

I have just started reading ‘Walking in this World’, by Julia Cameron. I have had the book for about 7 years, even through my MA, which focussed on how people encounter the world as they walk, but even then I did not think to pick it up and read it. But now is the time, going into the depths of winter and facing decreasing light, I know that this book will guide me.

Walking in this world.

I have got so much out of her other books, including ‘The Artists Way’, that I am really excited to be starting on this journey. I know it will be informative and enjoyable.

Another artist who I am hoping to work with in the New Year is also reading the book at the same time, so I am hoping we can compare notes. ‘Walking in this World’, encourages use of three tools to achieve greater creativity. These are ‘Morning Pages’, ‘Artists Date’ and ‘Weekly Walk’. I do the first two things as this was the practice set up years ago when I read her first book. The last ‘tool’, I have been doing anyway.

Bright sunshine and dark shadows.

So I am hoping that the book will be a good read in the dark evenings and the walks will be a delight in the precious daylight time we have during the winter.

‘Great artists are actually great amateurs,’ she writes in the introduction, ‘They have learned to wriggle out of the seriousness of rigid categorization and allow themselves to pursue the Pied Piper of Delight.’

Light and Shadow

I have thought a lot about my blog entry from last week when I wanted to write about perspectives, and how we can view something from another place.

Whilst walking up at Victory Wood, overlooking the Isle of Sheppey and the wonderful panoramic views that come from being in a new wood, with ‘baby’ trees, I recognised that each season of the year gives us a changing perspective of the place.

The sculpture frames the view back inland.

Myself and a couple of good friends walked up to the main sculpture that overlooks the view and we shared hot coffee and home made cake. It was so cold; we were wrapped up in scarves, gloves and hats. Back in the summer in that same place I had tried to get some shade and watched quietly as a stripy caterpillar worked its way slowly across the sculpture.

Prism people.

We didn’t hang around for long this week as even the dog started to shiver after just a few minutes, the wind coming off the sea was bitter and we knew we needed to walk to keep warm.

We walked around the plateau towards the established, older woodland at the West edge and went into it.

 

The woods on the west side of Victory Wood.

It was a real contrast from the last time I had ventured in. That time, it was a respite from the burning high sun, we went into the much needed cooler shade, following the path, but the woods scale was unknown, I hadn’t brought my map with me then and had no idea of the size. I remember I was wearing sandals that day and my feet were almost constantly being bitten by large wood ants if I stood still for any amount of time.

But on this cold winter day, as we entered the woods, I could immediately see through the bare skeleton trees to the surrounding hills. 

 

Clearer visibility through the trees allowed recognition of the surrounding hills.

The visibility was great; I was able to locate myself in the wood, recognising the topographical features in the distance, through the trees. Plus there were no ants that I could see that could target my toes and set me squealing and running away.

The sunlight created bright beams on the floor of the wood and trees themselves.

I was immediately aware of the sunlight driving a bright channel through the trees. It lit up lines across the leafy floor and shone brightly on tree trunks and other objects in its path.

The contrast of light and shade was fascinating.

The light shone strongly through the wood, it reached the furthest places, even if it was just a sliver of bright white reflected on the bark, it could be seen clearly in the distance.

Likewise shadows were cast around the wood, creating some very strong dynamic forms onto the horizontal and vertical surfaces.

 

Tree shadows on and over other trees.

The leaves themselves acted as a neutral colour to this strong play of light and dark, revealing a couple of times, wonderful inconspicuous gems.

Spot the mushroom!

I came across a mushroom poking its way through the  leaf ‘litter’, a yellow chestnut leaf in a sea of brown oak leaves and emerald green lichen ‘climbing’ its way up a tree trunk.

Bright green moss and lichen at the base of a tree, by the path.

Looking up as I walked along the path I could clearly see the sky where the trees were less dense and remembered this was an important marker for the path and reminded me of the only way I was able to find my way home one very dark night when I lived in Berkshire.

Path showing finer overhead tree canopy.

Salvation

Back then, the nearest pub was in a neighbouring village and we had walked there in the dusk, through the woods, with the greying sky reflected in the puddles along the track. On the way home, there was no moonlight at all; there was dark and a darker dark, which were the trees in the wood. We were able to find our way home by looking upward, following the track from above, seeing where the darkest dark, the trees, was the thinnest.

A beloved and dear friend who is now sadly no longer with us, also got lost in the woods that night. She ended up sitting by a tree, upset and forlorn, expecting to find her way back by first light. She delightedly told me the next day that her cats had saved her from a cold night in the woods. She had been resigned to wait but then she heard her cats meowing and called them to her. They then walked in front of her meowing the way forward until she saw her house. 

 

Time, seasons, scale, light and dark, all of these aspects and more can affect our perspective; it is not just the direction in which we are walking that can affect the view of where we are. Walking is a gift, if we are able to physically move, we must, and in doing so we can get a whole new perspective on life…  

Fungi, moss, lichen and light.

         

 (I completed my MA in September 2014 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.)