Why be like the other sheep?
A list and photos of everything I took on my Kungsleden hike this summer.
I had intended to write this post before I left for the Kungsleden, but as usual real life got in the way of my cyber life and I ran out of time. I still wanted to write it though, so once I arrived home I cleaned and sorted my gear and then collected it all together to take photographs before putting it away. Continue reading “Packing for the Kungsleden”
This week’s Flickr album sees me reminiscing about my first long distance walk.
It’s quite a while since I had my introduction to long-distance walking and ticked a challenge of my 60 before 60 list by walking the Great Glen Way.
The Great Glen Way meanders it’s way through the (yep, you guessed it) the Great Glen, which stretches from coast to coast across the Scottish Highlands.
A series of lochs, formed along a geological fault line, almost splits the country in half. Just to finish the job, the Caledonian Canal came along in the 1800s and linked the lochs. It is now impossible to travel to the far north of Scotland without crossing water somewhere. (Does that mean the north of Scotland is actually an island?)
The Great Glen Way begins in Fort William and leads onwards and upwards to Inverness on the west coast. Although the official path actually starts and finishes in the middle of these two towns, I walked out to the sea lochs at either end, adding a few more miles and making it a true coast to coast walk.
As an introduction to long distance walking, this is a good one. Plenty of wilderness, but not too difficult to get lost. Few enough people to make it feel like an adventure, but enough people around if you ran into difficulties. Lots of trees and ‘nature’, but also plenty of man-made historical stuff to keep it interesting on a different level.
I wrote about it in a lot more detail at the time, but for an overview of what it looks like, I’ve put a Flickr album together.
Click on the photo below to access the Flickr album.
And in case this has whetted your appetite, here are the links to the rest of my posts on the Great Glen Way.
Photographs from the Kungsleden; Sweden’s spectacular Arctic wilderness.
In the summer of 2014 I walked about half of Sweden’s Kungsleden (it translates as the King’s Way or the King of Ways, depending on who you choose to believe).
The Kungsleden begins well above the Arctic Circle in Swedish Lapland and follows a trail through valleys, over mountains and across rivers and lakes. Although there are camping huts spaced roughly a day apart, for the most part this is true wilderness with the nearest road often being several days walk away.
Basic food supplies can be bought at some of the huts, but for the most part you have to carry everything you need. The food in the huts is of the dried, canned and processed variety as it all has to be brought in my snow-mobile in March when the snow is at its deepest. It then has to last till the end of summer.
Water for washing and drinking is taken from the lakes and rivers and is some of the purest I’ve ever drank (and washed in).
I’ve put some photograhs (actually, I’ve put a LOT of photographs) on Flickr, but even the best photography can’t do justice to the beauty of this place. It’s one of those places you just have to see for yourself.
Click on the image below to access the album.
A miniature railway, a missed train and three ways the Thames Path deals with private gardens that reach to the river.
I’d googled parking in Henley before leaving home and discovered I could park for free in a small car park by the section of the Thames Path I was intending to walk.
I parked, got my boots on and walked across a field to the river. As it was a nice half term day and not too far from the centre of town there were plenty of families about.
Close to where I was starting today’s walk, houses and their gardens reached down to the river bank which should have necessitated an inland detour, but didn’t because a long, winding, wooden walkway sits in the river like a bridge connecting two parts of the same bank.
The walkway leads to a small island from which Marsh Lock can be accessed. The current lock dates from 1773, though there have been locks here for at least 600 years. The walkway, which continues from the island and returns to the bank, was originally created as part of the towpath, but is now a structure used for pleasure rather than work. An information board explains how the fish ladder to the side of the lock and weir works.
Once the walkway deposited me back on the bank I was able to follow the river through a meadow until the path turned inland towards the village of Shiplake.
The path led alongside some rather large houses including one that has its own railway running through the extensive grounds. The railway is of the miniature sort, but still has its own station building looking very real, albeit scaled down to about half ‘actual size’. The house is Thameside Court and has been owned by billionaire Urs Schwarzenback since the 1990s. It was after he moved in that the gardens were landscaped and the railway built. I guess if you’re a billionaire a miniature railway is no big deal. He could probably buy out Network Rail should he ever feel the whim.
I followed the road by the houses until Thames Path signs led me along a narrow path before leading to Shiplake Station (the full-size one) and through the village. Eventually, I was able to walk across a field to get back to the river.
As I walked through fields, I was overtaken on the river by a military task force canoeing their way on, I presume, a mission to invade Reading.
Houses and gardens yet again reached down to the banks of the river. So far today the problem of pesky private houses had been resolved firstly, by a walkway over the river the itself and secondly, by a long inland detour. I now found the third solution: to tramp right through the gardens themselves.
Each garden had fences or hedges running right down to the river and in each fence or hedge was a gate with a Thames Path footpath sign. I felt a little strange wandering into people’s gardens, but soon got over my hesitation as no-one seemed to be around and the gardens were far too interesting to keep my eyes averted anyway. Each owner had their own style, though there is obviously a bylaw compelling everyone to have a Buddha and wind chimes in some form or other. My favourite garden was the first which had a lovely summer house at the bottom right by the river.
The path signs eventually led right up someone’s garden and through a gate onto their driveway, I followed the road for a few minutes before getting back to the river at Shiplake Lock. The walk continued along a pleasant towpath with boats chugging by.
I crossed the bridge taking me back from Oxfordshire to Buckinghamshire and continuing now on the opposite bank, I stopped for a short break at Sonning lock and finished the coffee in my flask. There were a lot more people around now with many obviously just enjoying a short stroll.
I felt I was in Reading a long time before I actually reached it. I walked along playing fields with the river on my right and a busy road lined with modern office buildings on my left.
As I came closer to the town centre an offshoot of the river disappeared behind apartment buildings on the far bank. I could have reached it by crossing a bridge, but had no reason to. Instead I took photographs of swans swimming amongst rubbish with backdrops of huge gas storage tanks.
It was only when I stopped a bit later on and checked the map to see where I should turn away from the river in order to reach the train station, that I realised the narrow offshoot I’d seen was actually the Thames and I was now walking along the Avon and Kennet Canal. It wasn’t a problem as I was still able to easily get to the station.
There’s a Riverside Museum in Reading that I’d quite like to come back and have a look at one day. If I do, I may also walk a loop of the Thames and the canal so as to complete the small section of Thames Path I missed out on today.
I found Reading Station, bought a ticket to Henley, checked the platform number and time of the train, then, as I had lots of time, went for a wander. It was only when I went to catch my train that I realised just how big Reading Station actually is and I hadn’t allowed enough time to get to the platform. I arrived in time to see my train pulling out.
I had to wait a while for the next train and by the time I arrived back in Henley it was completely dark. I set off along the river to follow the Thames Path for today’s final kilometre to the car park. Although it was dark my night vision soon adjusted and I didn’t need to dig my head-torch out of my backpack. I’d expected this to be a lonely stretch as it was dark, but there seemed to be plenty of joggers and dog walkers still about. I quite enjoyed this last part of my walk even though I couldn’t see anything. It felt like I’d sneaked an extra bit onto my day.
A lovely evening provided the perfect opportunity to fill a gap in my walk.
I was heading south for half term. I planned to leave early on Sunday morning and spend the day walking a section of the Thames Path before arriving at a friend’s place in the evening. However, feeling grotty with the remains of a cold meant I didn’t get myself into gear until much later than I’d intended.
By the time I got anywhere near the Thames it was far too late to think about doing a long walk. Particularly as the clocks had just changed and so I’d be losing daylight earlier as well.
It was a beautiful afternoon, perfect for a walk along the river, so I churned ideas over in my mind as I chugged down the motorway. I remembered I still had to walk the couple of miles between Bourne End and Marlow, as when I’d previously walked this section I’d had to cut out this bit due to flooding.
Ideally I would walk from Bourne End to Marlow as I’ve generally been heading west on my walk, but I knew I could park for free in Marlow and it wouldn’t be a problem returning in the dark. I didn’t know if I’d be able to do this at Bourne End.
Train times between the two places meant it made sense to start walking straight away and catch the train back from Bourne End rather than take the train to Bourne End and walk back to Marlow from there. Not a problem. It’s not the only section I’ve walked ‘the wrong way’ and I don’t really mind which direction I go in as long as I eventually walk the whole path.
I parked my car, got my boots on and walked the short distance to the river. A year ago when I was here and walked to Henley it was a hot, sunny day and I couldn’t quite believe it was the beginning of November. People were out in hordes strolling along the riverbank in t-shirts and eating ice-creams. It was a nice day today, though not quite as warm as last year and being later in the day, there weren’t nearly so many people around.
Turning east at the river I walked towards the weir and lock. As I looked back the low sun cast Marlow in a beautiful light.
I soon left the houses behind on my side of the bank and stopped frequently to take photos of the dazzling array of autumnal colour trying to capture the perfect image of red, orange and gold reflected in the silvery river. Although I was quite happy with some of my photos I never quite got that perfect shot.
Across the river, the wooded bank rose steeply and was dotted with mansions, some in colours vivid enough to rival the autumn leaves with their brightness. If you’ve ever hankered after a Barbie pink mansion, this is the place to find one.
The Marlow bypass is the only ‘ugly’ bit of this walk and it’s soon passed by.
Quarry Wood on the opposite bank is thought to have been the inspiration for the ‘wild wood’ in The Wind in Willows.
I kicked my way through the leaves and eventually came to a series of fields, the first of which was home to a herd of very inquisitive cows. A couple of young cows were standing in the river eating from the side of the bank. I wondered how they’d get back up, but as they seemed quite content presumed they knew what they were doing.
As I tried to photograph them one cow in particular was very curious about my camera and kept pushing its face towards the lens. I was worried it make try to take a bite out of it, but I think it was just trying to photo-bomb my pictures.
These were the fields that had been completely under water when I’d tried to walk here a couple of years ago. The fields are bordered by the river on one side and the train line on the other and there’s no way of avoiding them without a long detour along roads away from the river.
There were quite a few boats on the river, some were posh yachts, others were like this tiny boat with two men balanced inside enjoying a bit of fishing.
As the sun started to set and the moon began to rise, lights started to come on in some of the houses opposite and smoke puffed out of chimneys.
Large flocks of geese rose and nosily made their way across the river to their roosts.
I passed the benches I’d photographed from the train last time I was here. Then I could see only the tops of them above the water.
Coming towards Bourne End the path passed through a narrow walkway with wooden houses lining both sides. Exiting this walkway I continued past the marina before turning in to find the main road and the train station.
Camouflaged deer, a very large goose and a prison for poachers.
It might have been a rainy grey day, but we were in need of a blast of fresh air. Waterproofs on and hoods up, we strode out from Lyme Park car park at 1pm. The rain was supposed to stop at 2 o’clock so hopes for sunshine were high and I had my sunglasses at the ready.
The path climbed south from the car park following the Gritstone Trail. We gained height quickly as we trudged through gloopy mud and splashed through rain-formed rivulets streaming across the path.
‘You’ll see deer a bit further up’, someone informed us as we climbed over a tall ladder stile. A bit further up, we stopped to look back and admire the view that had opened up below us. Despite the cloud and rain we could still see the estate spreading out beneath us and the built-up areas skirting it. On a clear day we’d have been able to see as far as Liverpool and probably North Wales as well.
No deer though. They must be much further up than we’d been led to believe. As we turned back to the path to continue onwards and upwards, something moved and caught my eye. That’d be the deer then. There must have been well over a hundred of them. They were close to the path and not at all bothered by us. Their coats blended into the yellowed grassy background camouflaging them perfectly. If we hadn’t stopped to look at the view and had hurried on, heads down, hoods up we’d have walked right past them and not seen a single one.
The path topped out on a lane by the Bow Stones. These are thought to be the middle sections of late-Saxon crosses and may have been used as boundary markers. The only surviving cross top is in the courtyard of Lyme Park.
We followed the lane downhill for a while. At a pond alongside the lane we stopped to chat to the very vocal white geese. Behind them, sat at the pond’s edge, was a very large white goose. Presumably it’s used for rides by guests staying at the hotel to which the pond belongs. We wondered what the geese made of this inanimate giant in their midst.
Heading north now, we climbed a few stiles, plodded across fields and got dripped on by trees as we picked our way through a small wooded area. One wooded area was fenced off and a sign informed us this was an area planted with a variety of native trees for the millennium. The fences weren’t to stop humans, just deer and rabbits.
Bollinhurst Bridge was closed off as it has been declared structurally unsound even for walkers. A wooden walkway has been created to the side of it, so we were still able to cross the river without having to resort to wading.
We followed Bollinhurst reservoir with views to the Cage on the far side. Originally built as a hunting tower in the 16th century, this Gothic looking building had a make-over in the 18th century, later becoming an overnight prison for poachers. This area has been a traditional hunting ground through the centuries and long ago was part of the King’s hunting forest of Macclesfield. The Cage could be seen intermittently throughout our walk and was a good navigation aid. The house itself is hidden in the trees and couldn’t be seen at all on our walk.
Reaching the far end of the reservoir we followed a lane back into the grounds of Lyme Park and down to the main drive. As we didn’t want to walk down the tarmacked drive dodging cars, we crossed and looped through the woods on the far side instead. We walked alongside the river coming out very conveniently at the teashop. We went inside for tea and scones just as the sun was finally breaking out.
Approximately 6 miles
3 hours
I’ve recently trained as a Walking for Health leader.
I’ve recently been getting involved in my local area’s Walking for Health scheme. I’ve done a couple of walks with one of the groups and discovered some lovely places on my doorstep that I never knew were there. Last week I spent a day attending a training course to become a Health Walks leader. This is a voluntary role so I can feel all altruistic and magnanimous whilst getting to know new people, finding good walking places near my house and, most importantly, getting some experience leading adults. As most of my walk leading experience has so far been with teenagers, I’m keen to build up some age-group variety before I apply for my Walking Group Leaders’ qualification. And it’s good to experience a completely different style of walking to that which I usually do myself or with groups of Duke of Edinburgh Award youngsters.
So what is Walking for Health?
Walking for Health is England’s largest network of health walk schemes, helping all kinds of people to lead a more active lifestyle. I’m quoting from my training manual there.
The scheme was originally set up in 1995 by a doctor who ran the scheme for his patients as he believed in the benefits of walking for general good health. By 2000 the scheme had been adopted nationally and was run by the British Heart Foundation and Natural England. That Natural England were one of the first sponsors probably explains why it’s only ever been an English scheme and hasn’t reached the rest of Britain. In 2002 Natural England pulled out and the funding was taken over by The Ramblers and Macmillan
Why these two?
The Ramblers is probably an obvious sponsor as their aim as a pressure group is to promote and facilitate walking. Macmillan might seem to be a less likely candidate but their statistics show that out of two million people with cancer, at least 1.5 million of these are not active enough. Research is showing that those who are active (albeit it in a reduced way) throughout their treatment have a higher and faster recovery rate and lower rate of the cancer recurring. The routine promotion of (gentle) exercise isn’t something oncologists are currently known for, but Macmillan are trying to change this.
But I don’t have cancer …
There is also some evidence to show that active people and people who get into the outdoors (walking’s a great way of combining the two) are less likely to develop cancer in the first place.
Is it only for people with cancer / who have had cancer / who want to avoid cancer?
No, walking is also recommended for a whole range of physical ailments and mental health issues. Regular physical activity such as walking can reduce:
The list goes on. It can help with lowering blood pressure, increasing levels of ‘good’ cholesterol (HDL), managing weight, coping with stress and anxiety, recovering from heart attacks and strokes …
In fact, a former Chief Medical Officer of England said, If a medication existed which had a similar effect to physical activity, it would be regarded as a ‘wonder drug’ or a ‘miracle cure’.
How many people don’t get enough regular activity in the UK?
Around two-thirds of all people are not meeting the UK Chief Medical Officers recommendation that adults should do at least 150 minutes of moderate physical activity each week. Ideally this is split over at least five days a week with sessions lasting at least 30 minutes. For children, the recommendation is at least an hour a day.
What is moderate activity?
Moderate activity makes you breathe harder and your heart beat faster, but you should still be able to carry on a conversation. Walking is the ideal moderate activity. (As an aside, on the course we were told to use the word ‘activity’ rather than ‘exercise’ as although most people aren’t against the idea of getting fitter, the concept of ‘exercise’ is scary and off-putting – it’s too easy to imagine a gym full of bronzed and toned bodies and superfit people who you won’t fit in with at all and be completely intimidated by)
So how can people be encouraged to take part in a Health Walk?
Firstly, they have to be accessible and to ensure that they are four things need to be considered:
Although the point of the walks is to raise everyone’s heartbeat, the walks are not so strenuous that it becomes impossible to hold a conversation. So the opportunity to meet new like-minded friends, increase your social circle, even get to know people if you’re new to an area is all part of the attraction.
So far, I’ve really enjoyed the walks I’ve taken part in. Although not challenging, they haven’t been as short or slow as I originally expected, though I have only done the longer ones which appeal to the slightly fitter walkers. Over the next few weeks I have to shadow a current Health Walks leader and then lead a walk of my own. After that I’ll be let loose to help England get fitter!
Can I walk 1000 miles in a year?
Ok, enough of the song butchery and apologies to The Proclaimers, but seriously … could I walk 1000 miles?
I used to get out walking every weekend. Sometimes on both days. I’d spend a lot of my holidays walking too. 1000 miles over the course of a year was easily achievable. But over the last few years, life has got in the way and my walking has got less and less. Now I rarely walk at the weekend and I’ve been doing less of it in my holidays (apart from my long walk in the Arctic last summer, that is).
When I walked regularly I really noticed the benefits. As well as being a generally enjoyable activity, I was fitter, less stressed and felt like I had more energy. I also felt more in tune with the time of year as I noticed the subtle changes as the seasons morphed from one to the next. It didn’t matter whether I walked alone or with others, each had its additional benefits. Walking alone gave me time to think; walking with a friend or two gave me time for chit-chat and enabled us to catch up with each other’s lives; walking in a group was sociable with lots of light-hearted banter. I miss all of this and really want to get this important part of my life back.
Last year Country Walking magazine challenged readers to walk 1000 miles over the course of the year. To ensure this wasn’t too easy a challenge it could only include proper walks and not strolls up and down the aisles of Tesco. It doesn’t have to be done in one epic hike but can be walks fitted in at lunchtimes and at weekends. I had too much going on at the beginning of last year to even think about taking on something like this, but as a strong believer in the philosophy of ‘better late than never’, I’m going to challenge myself to do it this year.
For it to be a proper challenge, I need a few rules. Here are the ones I’ve come up with so far. I may need to adapt them or add to them as I go along.
1) I will include walks of 2 miles and above so long as it’s a continuous walk and not 2 miles over the course of a whole day, in which I’m stopping and starting all the time. To monitor this I will set the time limit of 2 hours for a 2 mile walk. This may seem like a long time, but it will allow for walks in which I walk a mile to get to somewhere interesting, spend some time exploring and then walk a mile back. For walks over 6 miles I won’t set a time limit so long as it is completed within the same day.
2) No bonus points for hills or tricky terrain. Clocking up the miles is the only thing that counts.
3) City walks can be included as long as they are proper walks such as circumambulating the city walls, taking part in a guided walk or following a themed trail (e.g. a Dickens’ trail in London).Wandering round the shops does not count.
4) Pounding the treadmill in the gym doesn’t count.
And, well, that’s it really. Simple.
1000 miles shouldn’t be difficult to achieve physically. My problems are usually with time, but having a goal to aim for will hopefully make me prioritise walking and give me some extra incentive.
Here are some maths:
1000 / 52 = 19.2 miles per week
1000 / 12 = 83.3 miles per month
On an average weekend I should be able to walk on at least one day. If I do a 10 mile walk that leaves another 9.2 miles to be walked during the week. I could try to walk 2 miles each day, or try two mid-week 5 mile walks. Of course there will be weeks when I can’t do this, but as long as I achieve it most weeks, then the slack can be taken up on holidays when I’m more likely to walk every day.
I’ll set up a spreadsheet to note down each walk and for extra incentive I’ll include a countdown column.
I’m going to make a good start by kicking off the new year with a walk on New Year’s Day. Better stop messing about on my computer and get those maps out and start plotting and planning.
You can find the link to the original challenge here.
I found a herd of white deer, some very large pumpkins and mansions galore on this stretch of the Thames.
I had to drive home from Kent on Saturday and as it was such a beautiful day, despite being the first day of November, I really didn’t feel like spending it sitting on the M25 and the M6. Instead I detoured to Marlow and spent the day walking along the Thames to Henley and only completed my drive in the evening.
I parked in Marlow as this is an easy place to return to by bus from Henley and the street parking is free. I had wanted to walk from Bourne End as this was where I’d had to finish when I walked the Thames Path at New Year and flooding prevented me getting through to Marlow. Backtracking to Bourne End from Marlow proved quite difficult as the trains were only every two hours and my timing was out. I didn’t want too late a start as I knew I’d have to be finished by 5pm as it’s getting dark so early since the clocks went back last week. I never thought to check out the buses, so with hindsight maybe I could have got there. But not to worry, I’ll try to do this ‘missing section’ next time.
Marlow was buzzing with Saturday morning activity. The sun was out and so were the people. Some were wandering up and down the high street, others wandering by the river. The local park was full of families with young, and not-so-young, children and the ice-cream van was doing a roaring trade.
I popped into the church, an impressive building with a chequer-board tower just by the river. All Saints was rebuilt in 1835, replacing a 12th century church. Inside I met a sprightly old lady who spotted my walking boots and informed me brightly that she was 93 years old, and not so brightly, that she’d recently had to give up walking as an activity. Her face momentarily clouded over as she remembered the day she’d taken her boots to the thrift shop. She brightened as she added that she’s still driving and still attending yoga and aerobics classes regularly. Feeling inspired, and determined to make the most of my next fifty years’ walking before I have to hand my boots over to the charity shop, I strode down to the river and started walking west.
A man sat on the river bank shouting commands and encourgement through a loudspeaker to rowers whizzing past making it look easy. Large boats with families and groups on board chugged past, not allowed to exceed 4 knots per hour.
Bisham Church soon came into view on the opposite bank. Next to it, one of the UK’s National Sports Centres can be found at Bisham Abbey, the 13th century manor house near the church which replaced the original priory. It was on this stretch of the Thames that poet Percy Shelley spent his time bobbing about in a skiff whilst writing about a boat and river in ‘The Revolt of Islam’.
Passing Temple Mill Island, I soon reached Temple Lock. A young couple were launching dinghies which they then paddled out of the lock and downriver. I sat and ate a sandwich, watching a boat pass through the lock as I enjoyed the sun on my face.
Remembering I still had a lot of walking to do before I’m 93 I didn’t linger for long and was soon off towards Hurley Lock and Islands. First I had to cross to the other bank using Temple Bridge which, with a span of just under 50 metres, is Britain’s longest hardwood footbridge. Once at Hurley Lock I followed the path over a shorter bridge to reach Hurley Island, then walked the length of the island before crossing back to the towpath.
The path, which so far had led through trees and was deeply littered with autumnal leaves, now took me across open meadowland and fields. Looking back, the opposite bank rose into a high cliff with a mansion house sitting right at the top. This is Danesfield, named after the Danes who built a fortification in the field here. The present-day mansion is a hotel.
A large caravan park lay to my left, the river was to my right. Large, expensive-looking houses soon came into view and the path joined a road labelled as private. The houses were to the left of the road and what seemed to be private gardens alongside the river were to its right. I puzzled for a moment, before realising that the path doesn’t follow the road, but actually goes right by the river through the gardens. A couple of them had seats, lanterns and potted plants and looked like wonderful little spots for sitting and reading or just watching the world go by.
Medmenham Abbey soon came into sight across the river. The Abbey had been founded in 1201, but all that remains of the original building is one derelict tower. The rest has been rebuilt over the years and now forms a luxury hotel. In the 1700s it became infamous as a meeting place for Sir Francis Dashwood’s notorious Hell Fire Club. Members became known as ‘Franciscans of Medmenham’ after their host was said to have performed obscene parodies of religious rites there.
Walking through more meadowland and crossing several bridged ditches led me to Culham Court. The strange looking sheep I saw from a distance turned out to be a very large herd of mostly white deer. A few were browner with spots and as far as I can make out they were fallow deer. I could be completely wrong on this. The house with its sixty-five surrounding acres is a privately owned family home, bought by financier Urs Schwarzenbach and his wife Francesca in 2006 for £38 million.
After passing in front of the house the path then veers away from the river to reach the small village of Aston. The Flower Pot pub is a local landmark with chickens running around the garden. Outside was the largest pumpkin I’d ever seen. It was carved for Halloween and the inside could easily have held a small child. I touched it to check as I couldn’t quite believe it to be real.
Walking from the pub along Ferry Lane to return to the river I passed several more huge pumpkins. One had an array of ‘normal’ sized pumpkins around it which looked tiny in comparison.
Back at the river, it was through a kissing gate and just a short way along a grassy path until Hambleden Mill came into sight. A long weir glinted in the low sun, backed by a splendid display of autumn colour. Realising I’d easily make it to Henley before dark, I sat awhile on a bench scoffing a snack and looking at my map.
Greenlands was the next mansion to appear. White and palatial it stood proudly on the opposite bank, facing the river, and making me think of the White House in Washington DC. It had been built in 1853 for bookseller and First Lord of the Admiralty W H Smith. These days it houses Henley College.
The sun was started to set behind the trees as I approached Temple Island. This is the start of the Henley Royal Regatta which runs to Henley Bridge. The ‘temple’ on the island, now a private fishing lodge, was designed in 1771 by James Wyatt who added frescoes inside. It was originally built as a folly to draw the eye to the view from Fawley Court which is situated a little further upstream.
Facing Fawley Court is the hamlet of Remenham with its 19th century church. It was built to replace a Norman church and has its apse built on the line of its Norman predecessor.
Houses and dog-walkers started to appear more frequently alongside the path and, rounding a bend, Henley itself came into view. The light was fading now and lights on the bridge and in the shops and houses along the bank produced bobbing gold reflections in the water. A raft of ducks, strung out in single-file, were out for a final swim of the day. I walked into Henley as the town was closing up for the evening. A bus was waiting at the stop when I arrived and twenty minutes later I was back in Marlow.
Distance: approximately 8.5 miles.
My time in the wilderness has taught me that the goal of not having a goal can be the best goal to have.
I mentioned previously that my long walk in Sweden had given me a new mindset on walking. So, what would that be then?
In the past I’ve always seen a walk as a kind of challenge: a list of places to be ticked off; a certain time to get somewhere; a set-in-stone quota of miles to be covered. This hasn’t been something I’ve done consciously as my main reason for walking has always been that it’s something I enjoy. But because I do enjoy my walks, I’ve always found it easy to get distracted. I’ll sit and gaze at an idyllic view for twenty minutes, then spend another ten minutes trying to take a perfect photograph of a leaf. Add in distractions like tea-rooms, old churches or obscure little museums and my walk can easily take twice as long as it’s ‘supposed’ to. Although I finish my walk happy, I’ll have a little niggle at the back of my mind telling me that I haven’t done well enough. On the other hand, when I have to rush to finish the walk to make sure I’m in time for the last bus or that the gates on the car park aren’t locked, then I don’t feel so happy. I feel like I’ve missed out.
It should be obvious really shouldn’t it? That I should walk with the intention of doing what I want, when I want and enjoying myself rather than trying to achieve some self-imposed target. However, it took a long walk in the Arctic with plenty of thinking time for me to figure this out.
At first I was concerned that I wasn’t putting enough miles in each day; that I was starting too late in the morning; that I was taking too many gorgeous-view breaks. I justified it by telling myself I’d never be here again. If I don’t absorb the view fully, or camp at that amazing spot by the waterfall and enjoy pottering around in the sun the next morning, I’ll never get another chance. In the Peak District, I can always nip back for another look. In Swedish Lapland? Not so easy. Not when I have to take a plane, then a very long train journey, then a bus ride of several hours to the end of the nearest road, and then walk for a few days to get there. It’s easier to come back and walk a part of the trail I haven’t touched on, than it is to go back to the sections I’ve already walked just to see a bit here and a bit there because I rushed it first time round.
Once these thoughts started to sink in I began to relax and enjoy myself a lot more. I was learning to stop feeling guilty about something that there was no reason to feel guilty about anyway. I met lots of Swedish people, including some quite young ones. Although some were rushing along with only a few days to complete a long section of the trail, others were enjoying moving slowly and making the most of their time spent in the wilderness. Rather than rushing from target to target, their goal was to find a nice campsite, cook some good food and chill.
Swedes seem to have a different attitude to the great outdoors. From an early age, it’s quite normal to spend time walking, carrying a pack, wild camping and jumping in rivers for a wash. Have you ever tried walking with a five-year-old? If so, you’ll know how long it can take to even get a few hundred metres down the road. Everything is fascinating to them. They have to turn every stone, pick up every stick and sometimes sample every worm. Give them a backpack to carry and the chance of finding bits of reindeer antler in the stream beds and you’ve no chance of getting very far. This is fine. The point of the trip isn’t to walk a long way, but to enjoy being in the wilderness.
Once they hit their teens they’re chomping at the bit to get out there with their mates. No grown-ups allowed. And you know what? The grown-ups are fine with this. They walk a bit further than when they were younger, but still seem to get far more out of ‘just being there’ than they do for breaking records of distance or speed walked.
As adults, the annual trip to the wilderness is a time to de-stress away from busy lives in Stockholm or other cities. It’s quality time with family and friends, or time to be perfectly alone with no-one else to worry about. Yes they have targets; goals they want to achieve, but the targets are not the main reason for being there.
So why do I always have this feeling of needing to achieve a goal? Is it a general British attitude to walking? There’s no point doing it unless you’re going to achieve something? I don’t think I’m alone in feeling this. Is it because we don’t have any ‘real’ wilderness to spend days alone in? Even the remotest parts of Scotland are not that far from civilisation. I could have driven to the Highlands three times in the time it took just for the train journey from Stockholm to Lapland. Does this mean we never really shed our city feelings of targets, goals and everything at a specific time? Is it because walking is an ‘adult’ pastime and so we never have the opportunity to learn lessons from five-year-olds about the joy of going slowly? I know some Brits will take their children on short walks, but I don’t know any who wouldn’t shudder at the thought of taking them into the wilderness for two weeks at a time.
My time in the wilderness has taught me that the goal of not having a goal can be the best goal to have. Of course sometimes it’s good to challenge yourself; to keep yourself on your toes rather than sat on your bum taking yet another gorgeous-view break. And sometimes there is no choice in the matter. Why do so many last buses depart at 5pm even in the long, light summer evenings?
So how am I going to apply these lessons now I’m home? I’ll still walk according to other people’s criteria, whether that’s people I meet (it only took us three hours) or what the guide-book says. Or, more importantly, what the bus timetable says. But I also want to walk without a plan or goal. To just wander wherever I think looks interesting. To stop when I want and where I want for however long I want. Will I achieve this goal? Or am I just setting myself another target that I’ll feel guilty about not achieving? Is it even possible to have a target of not having a target? Watch this space …
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| When your campsite looks like this, why would you be in a hurry to leave? |
