Sitting on a bench beside the river, I eat a wrap that I bought from the Tesco store not too far behind me, and I munch quite contentedly on the imitation hoisin "meat", made from pea protein, and spring onion. Before me, the river is quiet, a couple of coots (Fulica atra) passing by. I think that they consider coming over - maybe I have something they might like - but they don't. There's a fisherman on the other side of the river and I wonder if he'll take care to remove any rubbish he has with him. I hope so. I am going to - finishing my food, I put the cardboard and film container into my backpack. Before standing and continuing on my way, I look around me. The path behind me is as quiet as the river; tree lined, yellow leaves litter the muddy footpath, and sounds from above promise the presence of squirrels and something corvid up there. I do quite like a quiet path.
After ten minutes or so of walking, the path thankfully not too muddy and churned up, I arrive at Cardington Lock Bridge, and I am on my way towards leaving Bedford's Priory Country Park. There is an information board about the engineer and the building of the lock on my right as I leave the park, but I don't stop to read - I have before but the information hasn't really penetrated. I am not particularly interested in engineering. I am more interested in the waterfowl - Canadian geese, swans, Egyptian geese, moorhen, coots, etc.
I was once in a relationship with a young woman who could not understand why I enjoyed walking so much. She didn't see the point in walking muddy footpaths to nowhere. Because, she was right, there never really is a destination. It's just about the walking, the journey. When I left the flat earlier, I knew where I was going and I knew the route I was going to walk, I have walked it before, but I wasn't heading out to get somewhere. It's about what you might see. Perhaps that's hard to understand for anyone that has to have a destination to their journey, but I think the nature and wildlife lovers will understand - the keen photographers that will sit for ages, camera poised, waiting for that perfect shot; the birdwatcher in their hide, binoculars round their neck, a notebook and pencil in front of them, watching quietly; the gardener that is constantly maintaining their garden and watching for the visitors to come. It's not about the destination, it's about the experience, about being in the moment. As I walk, I watch the nature - river, sky, trees, birds, etc. - about me, and in my mind I consider that relationship I had with that young woman, amongst others. I wonder where she is now, if she's okay, the conversation we might have now if were walking together . . .
Leaving the park, I am heading in to a short stretch through a modern business park. There's a few cars in the car parks and some that pass by on the roads that connect the various buildings, but it's otherwise quiet. Amongst some trees I hear some rustling in the leaf litter and imagine that it is probably a grey squirrel. Stopping and looking for it between the trees, I think I spot it but, as I concentrate on the shape in the leaves, being very still, I realise it is actually just some piece of rubbish. I can't tell what it is exactly, but I am not particularly surprised that there is rubbish there. I have mused sadly on the fact, along a number of footpaths, that rather than flowers adding colour to the green grass and hedgerows, it is the lurid plastic wrappers and drinks cans. I pick up what I can, when I can do so hygienically and safely, but I don't blame those people that just walk by - you'd be stuck all day in some spots and barely make a difference if you stopped to pick up everything you saw.
The business park and some roadside walking behind me, I am making my way towards Cardington, an attractive village with a church, a pub, and some old cottages grouped around a village green. If I had a companion, I might suggest walking into the village proper and see about having a drink at the pub, but I am walking alone today, so I turn right along Harrowden Lane, and away from Cardington village. The fields on my left are made a little more significant than other fields might be by the famous Cardington hangars that sit on the landscape. Their history of great significance to the village of Cardington but, I'm afraid, the thing that sits forefront in my mind with regards to these sheds is their featuring in the opening of Christopher Nolan's 2012 Batman film, The Dark Knight Rises - sorry, I'm a greater film nerd than I am a history nerd.
The hangars are pretty familiar to me and I don't really pay them much attention. Instead my eyes are drawn by two birds in one of the fields I am passing - Egyptian geese (Alopochen aegyptiaca). They are, in my opinion, quite pretty birds. They are pale brown and grey in colouring, with a distinctive brown patch around their eyes. Their feet and bills are pinkish in colour. According to the RSPB website, they were introduced as an ornamental wildfowl species but escaped and now breed in a feral state. I only began to notice their presence in Bedfordshire about four or five years ago, along the river. My view of the pair in the field I am passing is broken by hedgerow and eventually I lose sight of them.
Egyptian goose (Alopochen aegyptiaca), beside the river in Bedford. (Photo from personal collection)
Road side walking takes me by fields and farms. There is some significance for me here, along this stretch of road; this is where, only a few years back, that I saw and heard a lapwing (Vanellus vanellus) for the first time. It's peewit, call that I had heard overhead, had been new to my ears and I was very excited by this new experience. What a joy to discover that you can still feel joy and excitement for something so simple!
Following my route, I am taken along more roadside, I see more fields, and more farm.
Eventually, I am walking through a small meadow and then along a tree lined path. Like the path I walked earlier, beside the river, this one is littered with leaves. However, it is also littered with rubbish here and there - in the trees I see rubbish of all sorts discarded. It's saddening. It's frustrating. It's angering. I've heard it said before that if our buildings and works of art were treated with such disrespect, great efforts would be made to restore them and to see that such injustice could never be done again. When it comes to our nature and wildlife however, we seem quite happy to leave it be and let the merest slap of the wrist be enough as a deterrent to would be ruiners of our natural spaces.
Rubbish spotted by the stream and park on the way in to Elstow - in this blogger's opinion, a shameful sight. (Photo from personal collection)
Elstow, with its old timber-framed cottages lining the main street, is picturesque. On warmer days than this one, I would head to the green and rest a while perhaps. But today is cold, and grey, so I carry on. Walking through Elstow, passing the pub, the post office across the road, and people's homes, I come into Bedford. And, from here, the walk does feel a lot more town than village, a lot more urban than rural. There are less trees and more concrete. The path I am walking is lined with shops, petrol stations, takeaways, etc. Useful and fun, but nowhere near as beautiful as the river and the trees and the sky. At least in my opinion.
There are still things to see. A dog - I love dogs! - gets my attention when it comes to the gate outside it's home. It's a brown Labrador and seems friendly enough. I put my hand to the gate, not sticking my fingers through but just letting my fist rest against the metal bars of the gate. The dog licks me sheepishly, I look up from the dog, over the waist-high gate, but see no people there. They ought to be careful, I think, dog thieves aren't as gentle or careful as I am, and all I want is to say hello.
Back in town, I head towards home, stopping at shops to pick up something for dinner. It's odd to go from the quiet rural footpaths to the much more densely populated town, sort of jarring. And I don't know if it's sad or not that more people don't make use of the muddy paths. After all, the quiet and solitude on those paths is part of the appeal to me and, as some of the rubbish and littering indicates, the paths might already be getting more than enough of the wrong sort of attention anyway.
There's joy and sadness on those footpaths. I wish for more of the first and less of the latter as I head home.
Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this read, you can support me with a coffee on ko-fi.com - the caffeine fuels my walks, before I return to my keyboard to tell you all about them! Thank you!
No comments:
Post a Comment