Malham must be one of the few places in England where you'd feel conspicuous if you weren't wearing walking gear. The entire village appears to be organised around outdoor activities, walking and climbing especially, with cafe signs proclaiming "muddy boots welcome" and the only shop of any size displaying boots and cagouls more prominently than postcards and ice cream. I had plenty of time to explore as Malham was the first of my two scheduled rest days, although I felt somewhat of a fraud since, with the exception of the first day, my exertions have not hitherto been excessive. Nevertheless my legs have felt increasingly tired at the end of each day, so planning a break before the challenge of Pen-y-Ghent was probably wise.
My earlier post about solitude was, I confess, slightly disingenuous. I do derive pleasure from the company of other walkers, many of whom have unusual life stories which they will share more candidly with acquaintances who pass quickly into obscurity than with friends or family. The strange intimacy produced by sharing a walk, jointly finding the way or agreeing it's time for a water break, is reminiscent of the ad hoc sense of community I used to enjoy on overseas work projects. Being away from people's various incarnations of home and cast adrift in an alien environment, whether it's incarceration in an office in an insipid mid-West city or tussling with an inscrutable map on the PW, is a potent leveller.
When company is not available and I'm bored with my own thoughts, I can turn to my Pure radio, a splendid device the size of smartphone which boasts FM and DAB capability and a battery that lasts for yonks. Reception is patchy on the PW so I also have my iplayer stocked with music and audio books. Pride of place is taken by the BBC's recent dramatisation of Ulysses which was broadcast throughout Bloomsday this year. Despite several half-hearted attempts, I have never progressed further than the first few pages of the book, so Radio 4's abridged marathon was a boon. It sustained me through the first phase of the PW and was sufficiently engaging to cause me to miss the way more than once. My polymath father devoured Ulysses and used quotations as chapter headings in one of his books on applied optics. Hearing the radio adaptation made me realise that it must have had a particular resonance for him. Leopold Bloom is a Jew married to a gentile who lives in an overtly anti-semitic society, a scenario which mirrored my father's situation pretty accurately. Who knows what other parallels he might have discerned. The extent to which I didn't really know him was apparent when I read the memories and tributes from his peers and former students on the occasion of his retirement. Universally they regarded him as affable, warm and supportive, which was not always the persona he presented to his family.
Today I eschewed iplayer distractions and focussed on the walk. The steep climb at Pen-y-Ghent was accompanied by a strong wind and the rocks were slippery following earlier rain. My sense of achievement at reaching the summit was rather diminished by finding a family, including two young children and a grandmother, airily picnicking there, quite unfazed by the ascent.
© David Thompson 2012
My earlier post about solitude was, I confess, slightly disingenuous. I do derive pleasure from the company of other walkers, many of whom have unusual life stories which they will share more candidly with acquaintances who pass quickly into obscurity than with friends or family. The strange intimacy produced by sharing a walk, jointly finding the way or agreeing it's time for a water break, is reminiscent of the ad hoc sense of community I used to enjoy on overseas work projects. Being away from people's various incarnations of home and cast adrift in an alien environment, whether it's incarceration in an office in an insipid mid-West city or tussling with an inscrutable map on the PW, is a potent leveller.
When company is not available and I'm bored with my own thoughts, I can turn to my Pure radio, a splendid device the size of smartphone which boasts FM and DAB capability and a battery that lasts for yonks. Reception is patchy on the PW so I also have my iplayer stocked with music and audio books. Pride of place is taken by the BBC's recent dramatisation of Ulysses which was broadcast throughout Bloomsday this year. Despite several half-hearted attempts, I have never progressed further than the first few pages of the book, so Radio 4's abridged marathon was a boon. It sustained me through the first phase of the PW and was sufficiently engaging to cause me to miss the way more than once. My polymath father devoured Ulysses and used quotations as chapter headings in one of his books on applied optics. Hearing the radio adaptation made me realise that it must have had a particular resonance for him. Leopold Bloom is a Jew married to a gentile who lives in an overtly anti-semitic society, a scenario which mirrored my father's situation pretty accurately. Who knows what other parallels he might have discerned. The extent to which I didn't really know him was apparent when I read the memories and tributes from his peers and former students on the occasion of his retirement. Universally they regarded him as affable, warm and supportive, which was not always the persona he presented to his family.
Today I eschewed iplayer distractions and focussed on the walk. The steep climb at Pen-y-Ghent was accompanied by a strong wind and the rocks were slippery following earlier rain. My sense of achievement at reaching the summit was rather diminished by finding a family, including two young children and a grandmother, airily picnicking there, quite unfazed by the ascent.
© David Thompson 2012
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