Last minute highlights and hedgehogs
And as time ticks away (I have 6 days left of camp) I have found myself taking midnight walks again. The camp area is in a wooded area next to a river, riddled with walking paths, which I have mostly traversed to and from Burgos (the nearest city, about an hours walk from here). But lately my end-of-summer restlessness has driven me to the trails once the sun has gone down.
Late night walks used to be a common part of my life. At Gordon I would walk in the woods after dark several times a week; enjoying that rich, pungent, smell of wet earth that appears as the temperatures drop below dew-point. I like the thrill of darkness. I like having to rely on other senses, and the way they come awake on their own when the visibility is low. Suddenly every crunch of the leaves, rustle in the trees, and bird chirps are heard plainly. The smells of rotting leaves, dust, mud, water, flowers... they become singular and identifiable. The change of wind and the dips and jumps in temperature become clear on my skin and through my hair. I like the feeling of complete isolation and solitude it gives you. Many people feel uncomfortable in darkness, which means I tend to be alone. Funny thing for a guy who used to be scared of the dark as a kid.
But my nocturnal escapades disappeared as soon as I left the North Shore. I tried to keep them up in Oxford but it was difficult. Our house was close to various meadow-like parks, and I went for a couple walks in them after dark, but it wasn’t the same. They were too... man-made and urban. One time I was walking through one and stumbled on a Shakespearean performance. Not bad, granted, but I don’t really want to hear people calling out "A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen as you are toss'd with!" and the clash of fake swords as I try to sort through my thoughts and get some "me time." Oh, and I read in the newspapers that some lady was raped in the park, so that discouraged my nightime trips too.
I spend a lot of time walking in Madrid late at night, and though a city after dusk has its charm, it really isn’t the same thing. I can’t argue with myself or God as I stroll, or sing out loud (OK, I can and I do all of those things, but I look really crazy if I do it in the city, so it isn’t really a liberating experience).
So it has been nice to walk here again.
Oh, and highlight of highlights. As I was coming back from a walk the other night, I heard a faint rustle in the grass along the path and after turning on my flashlight and looking around, I finally found the culprit. It was quite a large hedgehog, who was just chillin in the dusky air. It was looking alarmed as I approached it and it quickly rolled itself into a ball. I would be lying if I said I didn’t roll it around a bit in a gentle Alice in Wonderland fashion, mostly trying to find where its "seam" was. Then I sat down next to it and waited for a while until the little guy finally decided that either the human next to it had fallen asleep or that at the very least it wasn’t an eater of small prickly mammals. It was quite fun to watch it come undone slowly and tromp off into the high grass.
Late night walks used to be a common part of my life. At Gordon I would walk in the woods after dark several times a week; enjoying that rich, pungent, smell of wet earth that appears as the temperatures drop below dew-point. I like the thrill of darkness. I like having to rely on other senses, and the way they come awake on their own when the visibility is low. Suddenly every crunch of the leaves, rustle in the trees, and bird chirps are heard plainly. The smells of rotting leaves, dust, mud, water, flowers... they become singular and identifiable. The change of wind and the dips and jumps in temperature become clear on my skin and through my hair. I like the feeling of complete isolation and solitude it gives you. Many people feel uncomfortable in darkness, which means I tend to be alone. Funny thing for a guy who used to be scared of the dark as a kid.
But my nocturnal escapades disappeared as soon as I left the North Shore. I tried to keep them up in Oxford but it was difficult. Our house was close to various meadow-like parks, and I went for a couple walks in them after dark, but it wasn’t the same. They were too... man-made and urban. One time I was walking through one and stumbled on a Shakespearean performance. Not bad, granted, but I don’t really want to hear people calling out "A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen as you are toss'd with!" and the clash of fake swords as I try to sort through my thoughts and get some "me time." Oh, and I read in the newspapers that some lady was raped in the park, so that discouraged my nightime trips too.
I spend a lot of time walking in Madrid late at night, and though a city after dusk has its charm, it really isn’t the same thing. I can’t argue with myself or God as I stroll, or sing out loud (OK, I can and I do all of those things, but I look really crazy if I do it in the city, so it isn’t really a liberating experience).
So it has been nice to walk here again.
Oh, and highlight of highlights. As I was coming back from a walk the other night, I heard a faint rustle in the grass along the path and after turning on my flashlight and looking around, I finally found the culprit. It was quite a large hedgehog, who was just chillin in the dusky air. It was looking alarmed as I approached it and it quickly rolled itself into a ball. I would be lying if I said I didn’t roll it around a bit in a gentle Alice in Wonderland fashion, mostly trying to find where its "seam" was. Then I sat down next to it and waited for a while until the little guy finally decided that either the human next to it had fallen asleep or that at the very least it wasn’t an eater of small prickly mammals. It was quite fun to watch it come undone slowly and tromp off into the high grass.
Comments
Being a woman, the first thing I thought was how dangerous going on a solitary walk after dark is. I'm surprised it took you until Oxford to think about it. I guess that's one advantage of being a man.