I had planned a triathlon for yesterday. Having volunteered to reclaim a works van left in Chepstow and drive it to Manchester I started to plan. Originally I'd lined up folk to climb with at Wintours Leap Crag which was all weather dependent, but the weather proved not to be dependable. So plans rapidly re-jigged to involve a walk along the Wye Valley Path from Chepstow up to Lovers Leap, collect the van, take it to work, cycle home then grab climbing stuff and hit the indoor option in Stockport, a generally solid plan to avoid the raindrops. It didn't happen quite that way in the end with the normality of the M6 clicking in, and a curious shut in the back of the work van with just my bicycle for company incident on arrival back at base in the car park of the Manchester Velodrome.
What was food for thought was the walking. Walking alone gives me untold confidence in my ability to travel the world solo. I'm totally capable of being on my own in my own head for the periods of time associated with walking. In fact, there are times when I seem to need that solitude and refuge. How many times do we make time for unhurried, uncluttered thinking, I mean the pure thinking not aided by google, not propped up by bouncing things off friends, but the purity of unhurried personal time, problem solving, putting thoughts in order. No fear of what thought might come into your head next because the time is actually there to pursue every thread which frays from the pattern, and to look at each dropped stitch without the worry that you won't have the time or ability to work it through properly.
Walking for me is a time when I lose track of how long a moment endures. Normal life moments live a few seconds, some a few minutes, but walking you feel they could last a lifetime. A three hour moment is entirely possible, even longer, much more so than riding or driving, because your body is on automatic, and your mind is not interrupted by sights but accompanied by what your eyes take in. Interpretations of views is affected by mood as much as the view is affected by clouds or winds or sunshine, you won't see the same thing as the person following you. When I see a pink scarf hanging from a tree, my mind is lost in speculation, a faint feeling of wonder and of the rightness of it's being there. The moments can last a lifetime, how good is that?
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