Looking around me

Nowadays I have the luxury of not having to drive to work, so I get forty minutes at each end of every day to myself (kind of) on the train. This has many advantages, that for the time being, I’m well and truly er, taking advantage of.

The first thing is I can walk to the station so I can listen to some podcasts or music and enjoy being out and about in all the seasons. Not using the car every day and being able to look around me means I can appreciate the seasons changing, and the minute happenings that nature gives, which most of us miss because we’re rushing about mainly. For example, most mornings I see blackbirds and robins. These are notoriously territorial birds, so every one that I see along the way shows the different patches of each bird. Blackbirds’ have an average territory of around 100 square metres, hence why we see so many of them. Autumn is when territories are renewed so there is a lot of activity (and noise).

When I was about ten, I was off school for a few days with an illness. Confined to the house, bored of the daytime TV and before the internet, I looked out of my bedroom window and saw all of the birds flitting about across our garden and the neighbours’ gardens. Being interested in maps (as I still am) I got my writing pad and drew a bird’s eye view of the gardens. I then drew a line in a different colour for each bird that I saw and where it went. Very quickly, a colourful chart appeared. I think techy kids these days would call it a heatmap or something like that. Either way, I learned about territories, as well as nesting preferences for each bird.

The second major advantage to this commute is the amount of reading, writing and sketching I can get done on the train. I try not to absorb myself too much into what I’m doing on public transport, like I try not to walk along gawping at my phone when I’m out and about. Part of it is because I’m far too inquisitive and like to look about me and people watch. The other thing is everyone is glued to their phone! Head down, gawping. An atomic bomb could go off away on the horizon, and they’d miss it, only to see it flash up on their phones a minute or two later. I don’t want to sound morbid, but I can easily see a terrorist attack happening on public transport all too easily in plain view of all the victims, who saw nothing of it coming, only their ‘smart’ devices. Before this turns into a typical rant of mine, I’ll steer course toward something a little more positive. In the mornings, the station where I get on is the end of the line, so it gradually fills up the closer it gets to the city, so I have the pick of most of the seats. I always choose a window seat that looks out across the open countryside. Again, I’m usually the only one looking at it as everyone else is scrolling away like zombies. The low winter sun this time of year casting long shadows over frost covered fields is still one sight I can’t resist gawping at. And it’s not on my phone.

If any of you are reading this blog, ironically, on a train, or bus, or somewhere else that you could be appreciating better, it won’t hurt my feelings if you put the phone away. Well it’s the end of the post anyway!

Hold on tight to your dreams

Life catches up with all of us. Dreams become forgotten memories if you are not careful enough to water them and tend to them. My mind these days is like a perpetual carousel of ideas and trains of thought, very much as though I am spinning plates. So far I haven’t smashed any…though it’s been a close call a few times. One day, my priority is my training, the next day it is revision, the day after it’s planning a trip. Add in places to be, things to pay (‘orrible grown up stuff) and it’s no wonder things get unceremoniously shoved down the crack of life.

It dawned on me a couple of weeks ago that I haven’t spent nearly half as much time out in the mountains this summer as I’d like to. So I decided to plan a day walk. Pencil to paper, I came up with a pretty full on 10 mile slog which included five mountains. Now, let me just clarify what a mountain is by British definition before any international readers get the idea that I’m some sort of athlete. In Britain, as decided by the Queen (I call her Lizzie as that is how she signs off her Christmas card to me), a mountain is defined as any area of high ground, grassy or rocky of a decent area, with an elevation of 600 metres or more. By this definition, I planned five, although really, it was only two, but they are so close together, you could count them as one. So, let’s say five anyway.

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The whole experience was magnificent. The weather perfect, if a tad too hot. In the space of five hours I saw four different species of birds of prey. One was effortlessly soaring on the thermals over the summit of the highest peak. It will be one of those days that will live long in the memory. That is what it’s generally all about, and up until now I thought all it was about was putting one leg in, one leg out, in, out, in, out and pretty much shaking it all about.

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On Sunday evening, whilst enjoying my dinner al fresco, I couldn’t help but overhear my neighbour speaking very loudly to his daughter on the phone. This guy is mid fifties perhaps, leaves the house well before me each morning and is seemingly in a prestigious job. When we do speak, it’s often about my latest exercise escapades, for which he calls me the “mad man”, which then turns to all the things he used to do. He was obviously very active until work took over. He’s a living warning to me about the pursuit of “success” and what it means in later years. Anyway, the gist of this loud conversation was that he is going away to spend a few days in a log cabin by a Loch in Scotland. In his words, he said it was time he started making some memories before he’s too old, and it’s been work, work, work for too long. I’m pleased he’s making choices like that, as he’s spot on.

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Back on the mountains, the day was filled with pleasant chats with other walkers, busy footpaths followed by deserted ones, views to kill for and just that satisfying knowledge that you’re here. If there’s nothing else at all, you’re here. It’s great to be in the present, seeing it, appreciating it and living it. It’s the way I want to be in all aspects of life. Back to plate spinning again.

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Gratitude – in memory

Eighteen months ago, I made a routine phone call to the walking coordinator of the organisation where I volunteer as a walking leader to review the walks we had done between us and discuss plans for the coming year. I knew he had been unwell, so I asked him if he was ok. Expecting him to say he was fine, he replied, in a matter-of-fact way that he had cancer. An inoperable brain tumour. I was taken aback by the news and tried to keep the rest of the conversation as positive as possible. He was planning walks and trips and sounded like he was going to make the most of the time he had left.

Sadly, I found out last week he has finally lost the fight. Whilst we were never close friends, we always had lengthy chats about the outoors, and would see each other four or five times a year for group walking duties. He was, however, one of the most important figures in steering my life towards the path I’m on now. Through mutual friends, news for to me about volunteering opportunities, and his number was given to me. After a long chat on the phone, we met face to face and I began to organise and lead walks for his groups. That was 2011, and since then, I’ve carried on with my ambitions to spend more time outdoors.

See, in 2010, a previous voluntary opportunity had disappointingly wilted away to nothing. When this one presented itself, I fully took it.  Steve took me on (probably because he was desperate) but I like to think I paid him back. Together we introduced a winter walks programme that operated in the off months when he organisation wasn’t so keen to put on any walks, but had interested parties. Numerous pub lunches all over the place, and great memories like the flighty pony that chased him down and stole his hat, which I then had to retrieve, despite having an 18kgs backpack on. I managed to get it, while he and everyone else hid in the next field (I couldn’t jump the gate – my bag was too heavy).

A great guy, as always, taken away too soon. His enthusiasm and energy will mean he will live on in the stories told about him.