Make 2021 year of the great outdoors
WE do it every year, we make pledges and promise ourselves things will change; we tell each other that our lives will surely be better this time around and this New Year is no different, except for the obvious, and, my word, 2021 is already quaking in her boots at the number of resolutions using her name in vain.
But hold on, this really could be the year you stick to it, as the past 12 months have been a write-off in one dreadful way or another.
One word – ‘outdoors’ – and that is where you need to be and I would love to hear your uplifting stories.
I even began a Facebook page from my base at Howard Town Brewery, Glossop, called, ‘Brewery Tap Writers (To the tune of the Beatles hit, ‘Paperback Writer’) for people to share their stories.
Try it out and sing it to yourself, it works and, better still, search us out and get your pencils sharpened.
While you are on it, get your walking shoes on and make “21, the year you enter the wildwood and write about it.
“This just in from a reader who read my piece about the joys and mental health benefits of the forest and now a member of the Group...
“The feeling was instant, one foot in, one foot out, the hokey-cokey of well-being, an invisible step, a dance through the portal to my soul and a blanket of calm from the sentinels within wrapped me in their warmth.”
On a more practical note, as you set off, depending on how far you intend to travel, always make sure that someone knows where you are heading and factor in thirst, hunger and other pit-stops you may need along the way.
Is your phone charged, have you any cash or cards on you, are you wearing the correct gear?
In some ways, there is no point in planning what to see, and here lies the beauty of the unexpected, the goldcrest in amongst the fluffy ‘long-tails’, the nuthatch with the squirrels, matching their dexterity both up and down the tree trunk; perhaps the sudden rush of wind through the canopy, a splash of rain on your nose and, more and more these days, the not so shy roe deer pictured on newsfeeds across the region.
It was over 30 years ago that a reader from Stalybridge, the late Mr Delaney, sent me the first photograph of a roe buck in his back garden and, my goodness, they have they spread, to Woodhead and beyond.
I often think it is only fitting, as Woodhead (The Head of the Wood) was once designated as part of the King’s Forest when a squirrel could get chased by a pine marten from Robin Hood country to Saltersbrook on the Yorkshire border without touching the ground.
I am talking about the shades of glades gone by now and in those far-off days, and earlier, there was chance to encounter more than the deer, including wild boar, wolves and brown bears and although I cannot promise those anymore, there are badger, foxes, woodcocks and the rare long-eared owl, maybe even the uber rare nightjar and, on occasion, the uber, uber, mega-rare beardedvulture.
But don’t hold your breath for the latter and please do not overlook the insects, beetles, dragonflies and the impossibly large wood wasp. Remember to trace your fingers across the ferns and lichens and, later this year, always marvel at the achingly beautiful colour of the bluebell, old England in a time-warp, never changed.
We are blessed in these parts to have the hills as well as the woods, equally as uplifting and good for the soul, but please remember my earlier advice; let people know and, especially at this time of year, go prepared with the correct clothing.
The Mountain Rescue Services do an amazing job and in all weathers and terrains, but you can be sure they would prefer to be by the fire instead of looking for you on Bleaklow in a white-out.
They are a bit like Santa, covering all areas in the flash of an eye, but without the aid of Rudolph and his chums, most times on foot, but on occasion aided by good old Land Rovers, helicopters and now, in the Lake District, personal rocket propulsion.
They deserve our thanks.