Upper Beeding

Walking When Nature Wakes..

When is the best time to take a walk ? I suppose it depends on what a person wants from it. All I really know is that in moving to a place that would be a ramblers utopia I’ve began to take the plethora of options for granted. It’s a little like the 40 years it took me to realise that a walk along the beach path in Brighton was the most therapeutic experience after a long day at work. Even then, the walk from the harbour in Portslade to the house in Queen’s Park was happened upon by chance of suggestion from elsewhere. One of the problems was my disdain for seeing other people when entering my dream-world on such wanders. October was therefore the most perfect month for this- only a smattering of folk on the path and the weather still mild. That said, I remember a fine walk in November when I only counted eleven people on the stretch between the far end of the lagoon and the Palace Pier. Bliss. If ever I was a cat I’d be one who needed to go to a home without other animals.

Similar strolling social humbug is applicable to my time here in the sticks. I like to enjoy the places in between and wow and wonder to myself. It’s doubtless the closest I get to a spiritual experience. And, given the evidence of cultural construction that runs throughout the daylight period I find myself coveting the early moments of daylight and the stillness of late evening as the best times to enjoy exercise that isn’t simply for exercise sake.

Here in Upper Beeding I have mapped out a village walk. It was constructed primarily to alleviate the lack of exercise since much of travels are now dependent on car use. Everyone here seems to own a car.

It’s Sunday morning, it’s 4am. My reading of the latest book of interest is punctured by the opening bars of the dawn chorus. I go to the window and see a dim haze of azure light outside. I feel the air, gentle and mild. An irresistible desire to discover and experience overcomes. So I find myself part of this orchestra of nature -walking and walking, observing, soaking it in. The world becomes mine alone as I listen in a daze and take in nature’s wakening surrounds. Then crossing the open spaces, with the haze slowly lifting, I realise that no amount of synthetic stimulation, blind hope, or material gain, could impute better this swamping feeling of simple joy I find often lost. I have the village to myself- like a hapless character from ‘War of the Worlds’ who somehow slept through the mass exodus once one of the tripods was seen rising over the hill. Only the Martians haven’t come and the village is still intact.

Earliest arrival…

Only the street lights twinkle and the odd light, possibly to ward off intruders, are visible in the sleepy abodes.

No chance of a pint then…

I saw no-one until two stragglers, possibly returning from a late night out in town, shift by near the entrance to the recreation ground in Hyde Lane.

Bad light stop play..

When the village is quiet, deserted and still, when nature is waking, when silence becomes an irresistibly beautiful sound, we see and experience something that even stills our noisy minds. Simply unadulterated peace.

The Road In- A Walk To Bypass

Well, to live in the countryside is to be your environment. Relaxed, a little isolated- perhaps.

They say that there may not be much to see out here but I take pleasure in the small things. When a place, as built up as it is, has so much green space it would be wasteful not to enjoy it.

A friend of mine often walks up here from Shoreham. It’s only three miles or so and, given that I drive it often, I decided to walk the route although feared it might be a bit ‘samey’.

It is- and there isn’t much excitement. A meandering a woefully pitiful looking River Adur plus a rather intrusive road running nearby. There is the 1960s flyover in the distance to remind me that the urban scrawl is never very far. If you like derelict buildings then the cement works is your salvation.

I drove to Shoreham and left the car there to begin the trek. The next day I walked back and picked it up. Perhaps I was kidding myself the scenery might change.

I’m pleased I’ve done it. But, really, I suspect there is more joy elsewhere.

It may be for some but the feeling of spaces that are too expansive and open is one that I don’t enjoy so much.

Anyway….. the pictures look nice- especially as you near the village.