In the last few weeks, I’ve been reconsidering where I stand with the local road.
That’s an odd sort of statement, to which I’ll try to give a little context. I walk a lot. I don’t currently run a car and I hate buses (there’s always the sense that the ten minutes spent waiting could have been occupied getting you most of the way there by now….). So most days I make the walk from where I live to the University where I’m studying. It normally takes about twenty minutes, and it’s a good way to get the day started – lungs working, blood pumping, mind ticking over. I’ve walked the route so many times that I can do it on autopilot, along a couple of back lanes and then pavements alongside major and minor roads. All well and good.
Back in the summer my local council got started on putting through a pedestrian / cycle path, connected the local town with one of its outlying villages. And that’s a good thing. The only drawback is that where this improvement crosses the paths I generally used, it’s caused them to be closed. So from the start of October until a little after Christmas I had to change my normal route, and actually start to focus on how I was getting from one point to another.
I was having to focus for two main reasons. Firstly, at either end of the day I start walking, and with muscle memory being what it is I had to concentrate pretty hard to make sure that I’m not starting off along a path that will end with a sign saying “No Pedestrian Access”. The other reason, is that the only other practical route runs for the first three quarters of a mile along fairly major roads without the benefit of a pavement. As a result, I need my wits about me. That got more true as time has gone on, because while the initial closure was for six weeks it ended up being a shade less than double that, and in the meanwhile the nights were drawing in.
So I was paying attention. By the middle of December I was following a well-worn path along the grass banks that line some of the road. Head up, ears open. Late at night – coming back from the library, darkroom, pub or whatever – it’s quiet enough and dark enough that you’re aware of oncoming traffic from a good half mile away.
What can I take away from this experience? Firstly, make sure that whatever torch you have has a strobe/flash setting. Nothing like a flashing light to make people slow down while they figure out what’s causing it. That’s good advice, but more prosaic than philosophical. In philosophical terms I should probably say that taking different routes will cause you to pay more attention to what’s going on around you. But then I might only be paying attention because if I don’t then there’s a sporting chance of being run over by a bus.
In more general terms, walking puts you in touch with what distances really mean – and I’ve talked about that quite a bit in various blog posts, so I won’t continue banging on about it now. And it certainly keeps you in touch with both the seasons and the weather (it’s dark, it’s raining, the cars can’t see you…). All jolly good fun.
And in specific terms I now own a new spanner, which I’m assuming fell off someone’s trailer. Bit of WD40 and it was just the thing when I was working on assembling the set for the local panto (as those who’ve read the biography section of this site may know, outside of writing and picture taking one of my afflictions is the theatre). Apparently you are occasionally rewarded for the interest you show in the world around you.
I’m not really sure if there’s a conclusion to this. My normal route is now back open, and I’m back to using it. This whole business was the minor distraction of a few autumn weeks. But I’ll remember it sometimes. When I see the new cycle path. When I occasionally take other routes. When I open my toolbag.
Photos By Alex 