Somewhere Nowhere Blog
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Showing articles in category "Travel"
Looking back on somewhere-nowhere through 2016 we decided to pick out just a few highlights, including night photography and a couple of poems ...
A journey on the 555 bus to the road block between Grasmere and Thirlmere, and back again, via five pubs ... an unusual kind of a journey.
To mark the beginning of a new year we thought we'd take a moment to reflect on somewhere-nowhere's year in 2015 and to look forwards. If you've missed any of the highlights (mountains, meadows, wandering poems, mavericks ...), or want to find out more about what's coming up, read on. There are exciting times ahead.
walking barefoot by the waterline on fine shingle sand with nothing to think about except walking barefoot by the waterline ...
I asked how long Elyaman had been riding. After a short exchange with the interpreter, he broke into a broad grin and held his hand about two feet above the trampled grass. Then, with a big laugh, he raised two fingers. I may not understand any words of the Kazakh language but I got the message.
The land climbs abruptly away from the flat east, up, up, up from the myriad greens via intensely folded valleys to an average height of 4000 breathless metres. And then rapidly returns to being flat again. Up here where the parched earth is peppered with snow-covered volcanoes, thousands of lamas roam unfettered across a vast open space.
I’ve owned the large format camera for perhaps 20 years, but for many of those years it languished in a box stashed in the loft. Digital came along and film was dead, right? Well, wrong actually. I started to use the camera again five years ago and now could not imagine going on a trip without it.
The word ‘adventure’ tends to conjure up the idea of risk, challenge, something daring. It has a ring of the intrepid about it, as if it will necessarily involve hazard. To call someone an ‘adventurer’ is to put them in a league beyond the reach of almost all ‘average’ people (just think of Sir Ranulph Feinnes, or Scott of the Antarctic). But there's another way you could look at it.
During the last month our eyes and minds have been drawn eastwards. Anyone who has linked in to Facebook or Kickstarter will have seen Rob’s posts and pictures from Nepal, where he has been walking in the hills. He has referred to it as strolling, but that’s far from accurate. Rob has been doing the job of a porter – one of the many men (and a handful of women) who carry loads up and down the mountain trails.
" Whether we regard our situation as heaven or hell depends on our perception. "
That quote resonated with me just a week ago whilst camped in deep snow below the world’s third highest peak, Kanchenjunga. I was coming at the peak from the west, on the Nepali side. To the east lay the Sikkim region of India, to the north Tibet. It had been a tough few days, a typhoon over the Bay of Bengal had brought three days of heavy rain in the valley below and a lot of snow
In Kathleen Jamie's book Sightlines she writes about the way that her unstoppable urge simply to get out of the house when she was younger laid the path for her deepening relationship with the natural world. It gave her close encounters with plants and weather, it became a refuge for her eager, explorative self and it probably had a lot to do with her eventual maturation into an outdoor wanderer and a superb writer.
My life seems to gently vacillate between being close to home and being a heck of a long way from home. I am lucky that I can adapt quickly and easily to both lives. I also know I am lucky to be able to travel to many wondrous parts of the planet. This time I’m going east to Nepal for two remote treks.
Just back from Georgia and one of the things that struck me was the gentle but insistent hum that filled the air - a low drone of countless insects going about the no-nonsense, urgent business of gathering nectar. Prime amongst these winged collectors were the bees. Every flower head seemed to hold a furred yellow and black brooch-like worker.
Life moves in a series of daybreaks and nightfalls, shadows shifting, clouds drifting. Doors open, doors close. We follow one road and not another, enter a forest maybe, or climb a bare-backed hill. Each and every path we take, however many times it might have been trodden by others before us, is a singular, distinct journey in time and space, captured in light and shade, sound and scent, blended with thoughts and moods in an unrepeatable way.
Well, that was some week. I am only just back, so this will be only a brief overview. The week was so packed with personal insights, wonderful writing by other women, animated debates about environment, place and wildness, fierce weather, delicious food ... it’s hard to know where to start!