10 km à pied,
ça réveille, ça égaie.
10 km à pied,
mon chemin n’est que merveilles.
I’ve always been a walker. It’s who I am.
Like most kids my age, I walked to and back from school in all weathers; kitted out with satchels, sports bags, musical instruments, art projects, jars of tadpoles (for the nature table), wildflowers (for the teacher) and a spare pair of plimsols (for the cats and dogs i.e. 65% of the year).
Come rain or shine, I had no choice but to zip up, toggle and tie. The mile to the Middle School in Winter was always an expedition, even with my Ready Brek glow, yet in many ways it forged my character, and nurtured my love of the outdoors. Today I am truly grateful for that obligatory daily exercise, giggles, times tables, soggy socks and all.
In my late forties, walking powered me through miserable peri-menopausal years, propelling me forwards and far on a quest for my lost self. My marriage was floundering, my kids were starting to leave the nest and my hormones were playing havoc with my body and mind. I hit the road for a couple of hours a day, determined to get fit, to take back control with my loud pink Decathlon trainers and London Grammar and Lorde by my side. We covered hundreds of miles together, reawakened muscles I never knew existed and shed many layers of old.
Walking took me on a life-changing journey inwards and gradually revived my senses. I’ve found my path, there’s no going back.
Walking
Moves me,
Energises my body,
Stimulates my mind.
It takes me places,
Arms swinging into a meditative march.
It excites my curiosity,
Senses reawakening to the beauty of new.
Walking gives me perspective.
It opens up fresh possibilities,
Allowing me to begin
To Connect the Dots.
A few random scribbles in the margin…
-“It is an extraordinary moment when you recalibrate and find your compass.”
I am an Island by Tamsin Calidas
-"The act of walking is poetry in itself; interaction with terrain, human memory, experience, nature, sound, movement, language, breath, thought.”
-“On every long run that has gone right, there comes a point where thinking stops and thoughts begin.”
Running with the Pack - Thoughts from the Road on Meaning and Mortality by Mark Rowlands.
-“When you’re on your own you notice everything, everything. All your senses are alive because it’s your survival instinct. If you’re in a city, you notice what’s above the shopfronts. After a week or so, none of us notice what’s above the shopfronts anymore. You see the night sky, you look at the stars, you smell everything. You have all of your senses alive, and if you can note down what you are experiencing in those first days, it’s extraordinary the texture it can lend to your sense of place. It never comes again. The minute you come to adapt, you form routines, you cease to see, smell, taste those things, which is why it’s so good to be on your own.”
Gone to Timbuktu, Ep. 12 - a conversation between travel writer Sophy Roberts and author and journalist Jon Lee Anderson ( I thoroughly recommend the entire first series of this podcast).
-“I’m taking a short cut to work through a small urban park where a boy sits on the grass staring at his mobile phone. He has just held it up to the sky and smiled into his camera. Now he corrects the image with his software, the hues, the sharpness and contrast, he smooths out his surroundings into a uniform, graduated background. In a second the horse chestnut tree behind him, which has just unfolded its first blazing leaves, melts away into a monotone background. In a minute he has a self-portrait he is happy with, an enhanced version of himself. He beams it out into electronic space, sharing it with the whole world, sharing it mostly with himself. He stands up, turns and walks away. He doesn’t see me. He doesn’t look up.”
Two Lights - Walking through Landscapes of Loss and Life by James Roberts
-“The real voyage of discovery consists in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.” - Marcel Proust
Look, Listen, Feel…
Heads up for the much-awaited social sculpture and mobile observatory Moon Palace designed by Ivan Morison and Heather Peak, and co-produced by eastleedsproject and leeds2023. Inspired by the Leeds-based father of civil engineering John Smeaton, the working observatory, a former school bus, will be offering drop-in daytime observation sessions and ticketed after-dark moongazing experiences as it tours around Leeds over the next four months.
Photo: Charles Emerson
"With ‘Moon Palace’ we’re trying to reframe people's experiences of the world around them. When we make new connections, we gain new understandings of the places we live and people we live alongside, as well. That’s how we interpreted Smeaton’s ‘observatory’: we wanted to create a space where people could look at the stars and be amazed at the wonder of the universe, but you could also look very closely at the place they live.” Ivan Morison
“It’s an artwork that does all sorts of things, under the title of being an observatory. There are lots of moments that enable people to connect with ‘Moon Palace’ in lots of different ways. Some people are more visual, some people are more sonic, some people can appreciate things through touch. So, we’re trying to find all these different ways of creating different experiences for the audience.” Heather Peak
I’m afraid we never made it back to The Beck, as intended, but next time perhaps. I loved Jane Ponsford’s photograph of wool caught on a wire fence the other day, and it sent me on my own local snail trail. I’m amazed at how many there are here at the moment and I’m enjoying documenting their ingenious configurations.
Creativity is contagious, pass it on…
Bonne semaine!
Your walks and words have been such a salve to me through my own inability to walk, and to do all that wonderful noting external and internal) that walks make so much space for.
Reading this one I have the thrill of having felt it once more, after at perimenopausal late period combo of hormonal dementedness and clarity lifted my usual CFS exhaustion and neuro overwhelm last week. I looked out at the pouring rain and new I needed to walk, as ever. But this time, miraculously, I knew I could.
It’s been 15 years since my last solo walk. I was soaked to the skin (apparently my waterproof has perished overtime) and overjoyed by every slow step. 4 hours to do what used to be a daily hour up the hill with dog/s. Every beautiful, wet detail enrapturing. And I thought of you, and other beautiful souls who have shared their walks and travels in ways that have helped keep me sane on the worst of bed bound days. So grateful to you.
Same. If I don't walk just a couple of miles even, then I'm not anywhere near my best. I need the motion, the long focus for my eyes, the cellular interaction with the rest of nature... Walking is life.