Walking as thought

Walking as thought.

One foot in front of the other, set the pace. A dawdle, a power walk. Meandering or directional. I’ve walked for pleasure for lots in my life. Over Dartmoor, along canals, over dales, along coastal routes and up mountains. I love to read about walking too. Adventures or meditations. I have just finished Postal Paths by Alan Cleaver, a lovely book that takes in various landscapes described along the postal service route. It made me think of learning the term ‘desire line’ to describe the route taken off path to walk the more desired often direct route. Over time the constant feet passing over marks-out a new path-the desire line. Postal routes as found by Cleaver, carved out there own direct paths, and created postman’s steps over walls and bridges over streams. It's interesting to me the way that the human need to walk impacts the lanscape visibly. The postal paths are nostalgic reminders of an age before cars, although I am sure walking one for pleasure on a sunny day is a far cry from the daily job of delivering mail. But they remain as relics imprinting on the landscape and the way we experience it.

There is a romance to walking for the pleasure of it. Often to take in a new sight or to walk a route inaccessible by car. Two years ago I walked up Yr Wyddfa In Eryri National Park (Snowden) with a friend, the whole experience was a wonder that left me wanting more; more adventure, more challenge, more walking with friends. That same friend joined me in the Peak District the following year. The circular walks from our lodgings in Edale took us up and out into a landscape that was ancient and strange. Rock formations clung to the steep hillside and views opened out over the valley below. I felt this walk was an activity in of itself. The Eryri hike the year before was about the mountain- reaching the top. There was a fixed destination and achievement. The walks in the Peak District were unknown, roughly planned out in length. The walk became the goal and suddenly possibility expanded. The human desire to explore is innate and this adventure encouraged this. The wonder to wander around the next corner or over the next hill allowed me to be very present in the landscape for two days of walking around.

These words are like a walk, this writing challenge a exploration of a new landscape. I pace out the sentences, the thoughts unfolding like a new view along the coastal path. Each day a new check point. Making progress, slowly at times but always worth it. I think about the words and sentences as I do walk, around the city, part of my daily life. Paths here and there, school, shops, work. Walking means thinking. Walking means ideas. Walking means words. Even more wonderful, the good friend who was by my side and the catalyst for the mountain and peak walks of previous years is by my side again, writing daily with me during the month of May. Her name is Michelle and her writing can be found here.

The physicality of walking, the motion of stepping, is at the very forefront of my mind, as walking also means pain at the moment. The words I try to gather and form as I go are a welcome distraction but my left leg is still in recovery from the accident last year. In June, not long after the Peak District walk, I broke my leg. A displaced spiral fracture of the tibia and fibula, (yes that’s bad). Thank goodness I wasn’t halfway up a mountain! Not being able to walk made me appreciate my mobility as it came back. I was lucky in many ways as the type of repair (a tibial nail) was comprehensive enough to strengthen my lower leg and weight baring was encouraged straight away to allow the bone to knit back together. I remember that first step. It has been a slow recovery. I am slow. The thought of a mountain hike still feels out of reach. I stretch out over the city, testing and pushing what my leg can do. I notice every step and feel every step, afterwards the memory of the motion pulses outwards from my shin asking to be relieved of gravity, to put my foot up. I wouldn’t trust myself to cope with any strenuous walk and trust is an important thing for walking. However, my strength is building and the call to walk is getting louder. That need to move myself forward through a landscape and to observe is what I am wanting and waiting for, it will come back to me. For the time being I will accept the smaller walks and my words that accompany me.