Category: Uncategorized

Desire Paths and Intention Lines

They are all over the city.  Everywhere there is a footpath across an open space, everywhere there are steps next to a slope, everywhere there is a gap in a fence or a wall or a hedge, there is a desire path.  These unofficial shortcuts, unsigned, unplanned, untarmacked are both a bane and blessing to city planners.  They betray the secrets of pedestrians, revealing with dead grass and trampled plants, how we react to our environment, where we want to go not where we are told to go.

These intention lines are most often equated with the path of least resistance.  They cut corners, cross junctions not at the lights but next to the bus stop.  By their very nature they differ from the planned route, they rebel against the rules.

But these are strange times and what we desire is no longer the quickest way from A to B.  Unable to visit friends and family, unable to go to the office, the gym or the pub, our journeys are slowing.  The time outdoors is as important as the destination.  But there is a problem, everybody is doing the same.  In the city there are only so many outdoor spaces, only so many paths and we have been told repeatedly, and forcefully, in messages sculpted by government psychologists, that we must keep apart.  And so a new form of intention line is appearing in the parched parks, one that shadows the official route but a few metres away, an eroded echo allowing us to go walking together, but apart.

 

Just shy of Salas

We are setting out today on a beautiful section of the Camino, with many hills and forest views. The aim is to reach Casazorrina which is approximately 16kms away. Here we will treat ourselves to a stay at La Figal de Xugabolas, to compensate for the nights spent in a ditch at the side of the road endured by some members of our party.

I will be cycling and walking, hoping that the cooler temperatures will keep the crowds at home.

a gradual release

One of the good things about walking a Camino, I heard somewhere, probably on the telly, is the opportunity to reflect. The quiet pace of the walk becomes meditative and if there was ever a time to do some soul searching it has to be now. The image below was taken last year, not today, but I am not sure it matters really. What matters is that I looked at it again today and looked at it differently.

That building, for instance, with its domestic structure and scale, looks so vulnerable, so perilously close to the overspill from the dam as it is gradually released. What we had to do as we walked right up to the weirdly compelling patterns in the falling water and climbed the hill to see the vast expanse of pent up water behind it, was trust a whole heap of invisible experts. But the scene does not inspire me with particular confidence. That road for example, it is not exactly well-maintained, is it? Emergency vehicles might struggle to get by in a hurry. Not that they could do a lot when they got there. This image of a walk uphill to the dam felt to me today like a pretty good metaphor for our times.

It also occurred to me today, as I pedalled in the rain, was that the reason I keep the spooky, dementor scarecrow standing as a sentinel, even though it fails to guard my peppers and courgettes, is because it is another kind of memento. Beyond the green and pleasant corner of the county I am lucky to live in there is pestilence and terrible injustice. When I am lulled into a false sense of security by the beauty of my small world and my many privileges, this scarecrow pulls me back. Where we all actually live is in the house at the foot of the dam.

Oviedo to Escamplero-ish

One of the handy things about a virtual walk is that if you fall short of your target you don’t have to spend the night in a field by the side of a path, unless you want to.

The classic first leg of the Camino Primitivo is 25.5km (15.9 miles) from Oviedo to Grado, often split in to two days with a break at Escamplero 12.2km along the trail.

Five hours in to the first day of our adventure and I had gone 0.9 of a km and most of that was my Garmin mistakenly recording my arms moving whilst typing.  There is, no doubt, something clever and meta to be said about undertaking a virtual journey sat in front of a laptop, but I had hoped that the majority of my travel would be literal, even if it couldn’t be geographically correct.

So at lunchtime I ventured out for a walk.  Something I have rarely done during the last ten weeks.  Close to my house the route of an old railway line has been turned in to a footpath, a hidden green corridor which can be joined and left at points along its length.  I followed it to a small park.  Once part of the grounds of Lochend Castle it is now an incongorous oasis amongst the housing estate tower blocks that encircle it.

Most of the park is covered by the lake or loch from which it takes its name.  We are coming to the end of Spring in Scotland and baby birds were in abundance, amongst them Moorhen chicks, cygnets and ducklings.  Further out in the loch three herons perched, and the banks were filled with yellow iris.

It should have been a tranquil spot, the birdlife certainly seemed well at ease, but I found it hard to relax.  Although most people I passed were observing social distancing not all did, and more than once I found myself much closer to someone than I would have liked.  I am in a low category of risk, a white middle class woman in her 30s, non-smoker, healthy weight, working from home.  But ten weeks of constant messages to ‘Stay at home, save lives’, leave their mark and I didn’t linger.  One circuit of the loch and I headed back to the railway path, stopping briefly to take a photograph of the stone doocot (dove cot) that would have housed the castle’s pigeons.  Five centuries later and the descedants of those birds still perch there, though now without the prospect of being eaten.

With time to spare before the end of my lunchhour, and keen to clock up as much distance as possible, I followed the path, past some allotments complete with mask wearing scarecrows, to its end at a much larger park at the end of my street.

Later, after finishing work, I ate a Spanish inspired salad in the garden followed by a little light gardening to close the day at 10km of typing/walking, 2.2km short of Escamplero.  I could pace up and down a bit, maybe spend some time on my exercise bike but choose to stop.  A night under the stars in a field sounds just fine to me.

Misty morning start

There has been a change in the weather and a few drops of welcome rain, but probably too light to be useful. Today we have a short, very steep uphill section to San Juan de Villapañada. There are no shops in the village and so we will have to carry our own food with us to cook in the hostel kitchen. So before we leave we will stock up on cheese and cider from the market in Grado, which fortunately is held mid week on Wednesdays. Because our packs will be heavy and the track steep we will only be walking 5kms today and rest up before our longer journey tomorrow.

A postcard from Grado

Dementor scarecrow

The birds couldn’t care less

An early start today so I could get some pedalling done while it was still relatively cool and shady. The scarecrow never fails to startle me when I catch sight of it out of the corner of my eye but robins happily perch on its shoulder. I am not really sure if its point anymore, hanging about like a dementor.

Dementor scarecrow

It is only as I write this down that I notice for the first time how de-mentor reads like the inverse of to mentor or teach, so it is a creature that is the dark opposite of the best of the Hogwart professors. I am not sure what it is unteaching me. But I manage anyway to pedal and walk all the way to Grado.

Tomorrow, weather permitting, we will take a look around the farmer’s market before going on our way

An invitation

‘Would you like to walk the Camino Primitivo with me?’ A question I was not expecting nine weeks in to lockdown. I live in one of the most densely populated parts of my city, with an estimated 26,000 people per 800 metres, making exercise outdoors in a socially distanced way almost impossible. I’ve barely ventured beyond my garden in months. The thought of going to the supermarket is challenging, walking 230 miles through mountainous Spain? Incomprehensible.

But of course this would be virtual travel. Measuring the distance we move each day and plotting it against the oldest pilgrimage route to Santiago. Seasoned walkers can complete the journey in under two weeks; with work and other commitments our pace will be slower but this is not about targets and records, it is not a race. It is about mutual experience whilst isolated, completing something together whilst apart. It is about family and creativity and escape. It is about the journey.

 

 

Inquisitive Hamster

So we are waking up to another fair morning, but a change in the weather is on the way. I ordered my first piece clothing for many months in preparation for this journey. The low crotch harem pants looked stylish and comfortable on the willowy nineteen year old in the photographs, but unfortunately change my bodily profile to that of an inquisitive hamster. Before setting out today I will take another unusual step, onto the scales in the bathroom. I am braced for many acquired covid kilos to be revealed in the process but am not so silly as to set an actual target to get rid of these during our virtual Camino. If I manage to lose some of them it will be a bonus.

Today we will be travelling through the Asturias region, famous for its beautiful forests, mountain scenery, cheese and cider. See you in Grado!

Cheers!

Well we made it! It’s lovely here isn’t it? It was tough going in the heat. I personally found the last uphill section especially hard, repeatedly walking up to the top of the garden and down again with my watering can. I now have no water AT ALL in two of my three water butts. The weather is due to cool down a bit on Wednesday, which should make it easier to keep on pedalling, walking and, in Elke’s case, dancing. But there is only just the ghost of a chance of rain. Fingers crossed. The garden is as parched as me.

A speciality of the region

Tomorrow we will head for Grado, a sizeable town and about the same distance away, 13 ish kms/ 7 or so miles.

I am going to try to add Adelle to this site to allow her to enter her own images and texts. Anyone else who would like me to do this for them, just let me know. Wish me luck.

Sleep well. Get lots of rest. I’m hoping the owls keep their beaks shut