Valerie Drew
Lecturer in Professional Education, University of Stirling

The solo journey: snow, sun and sheep on the hill…

The outward journey…

Snow, falling gently on frozen ground

lightens sky and track

in the distance wood smoke rises from a tipi

leaving wispy traces in the cold, clear air

Solo participants taking their places around the circle of stones

surrounding a fire which crackles and spits

offering some comfort from the cold, winter chill

a singing bowl rings out  heralding  daybreak and time to step over another threshold

Trekking uphill, boots crunching in snow

ice cracking beneath my feet,  freezing wind biting my face

clouds tinged with pink seeming to warm the early morning winter sky

and a grouse, startled, flies low across my path.

Sun rising now beyond the hill sets clouds ablaze

before reaching a crescendo and

bursting over the horizon

 heralding a new day bright with hope and possibilities

Sheep on distant slopes

wandering aimlessly  over frozen ground

baaing hungrily and incessantly

waiting to be fed and nourished

The return journey…

Snow… a stark reminder of November 2010

when usual habits were disrupted

when global became local

when we asked questions of climate change…

Sun… dipping low in a pale wintery sky

drawing the day to a close

marking the passing of time and

reminding me of the temporal nature of life…

Sheep…  familiar now on these frozen hills

form an orderly  line behind a farmer’s quad

an indication of changing landscapes, of our impact on the land

and make me think about the global food supply

a Solo participant… returning slowly along the path ahead

seems to offer  support and challenge

opening up possibilities for me to think which path will ‘we’ take now?

Who will walk with me, talk with me, care with me, change with me?

Finally… gathering clouds obscure the sun 

signalling the end of this solo experience

returning to the tipi, I cross the threshold once more

wondering what we will take forward from this …

Tales from the along the river bank…

An invitation to create ‘something’ from the resources along the river bank to represent the process of Natural Change seemed to unleash a potentially unrealised creative artistic energy within the group…  Stones, lichen, reeds, twigs and the water itself provided a wealth of rich materials and artefacts for budding artists… The fast flowing river offered a thunderous sound track to the activity reminding us of the power of nature as we worked along the flood plain with debris from recent floods littering the ground.  We each found our own space and busied ourselves with the task, in an attempt to create meaning to share with others…  Imaginative tales were told to participants who listened attentively  to creative and original thoughts inspired by the surrounding environment and the pedagogy of the process…  Sadly the tales were not recorded and so you can only wonder what thoughts and processes these artefacts were created to represent…

Change…

A changing landscape unfolded around us as we climbed the hill beyond the hostel, the temperature plummeting and rain threatening… 

Changing scenery and weather provided a dramatic outdoor auditorium for participants’ reports and even ‘performances’ of social change .  Fascinating stories of resistance, revolution and movements explored for the workshop were shared in an attempt to establish cultural and historical context and identify catalysts which enable change.   

Change … scenery, weather, social, natural, personal and professional would form the backdrop of many discussions and activities throughout the week…

City solo: sitting in the railway station…

Messages in and around bottles…

In preparation for our trip to Glen Prosen I decided to go for a walk down the coast last weekend.  It was a bright, if somewhat cold day, as we walked along the beach, with only the sound of the wind and waves to accompany us.  The pale, wintery sun welcome after a week of rain although the sea was grey and foreboding, relentlessly unleashing waves onto the rocky shore.    On first encountering a bottle lodged in the sand you cannot but help wonder if perhaps there is a message inside, a story  from some far flung shore… but closer inspection revealed an empty vodka bottle only recently dumped judging by the condition of the  label.  As we round the headland the scene begins to change, the pale sunlight acting now as a spotlight on the waste scattered along the high tide line. Bottles, mainly plastic, of all shapes and sizes carry many messages: of our careless habits, our lack of concern for resources and complete disregard for the environment.

Further along a rusting fridge, a set of tyres and an oil drum spoil the East Lothian shoreline and serve to remind us of the long term impact of our lifestyle choices.  

I wander amongst the rock pools noting how clear the water is despite our filthy habits, the sea having done its utmost to spit out the jetsam, flotsam and other detritus back onto the shore.  But I think this masks the unseen damage we have inflicted on the seas around our shores, less obvious at times perhaps but much more insidious.

The sea washes over the footprints I left in the sand… leaving no trace, no imprints, no impressions…

I look forward to walking and spending time in Glen Prosen with the group.  I think about the messages we might take from this project, and what we might do with these messages, what changes we might make?  What traces will we leave?

The (Re)turn to technology…

The mountainous terrain renders much of Knoydart a dead zone without mobile phone or WiFi signal and, whilst some of the group welcomed this new found freedom, at times this appeared to present an additional challenge to a group used to 24/7 access to communication with family, friends and work (although not necessarily in that order).  It was good to engage in conversations uninterrupted by the now commonplace bleeping and vibrating of devices urging their owners to read and respond and it was good to be able to relax without any desire or need to check personal or work email.

Last week I attended an interesting seminar by Professor Richard Coyne, University of Edinburgh entitled ‘How do pervasive digital devices–smart phones, iPods, GPS navigations systems, and camera among others–influence the way we use spaces?’ 

Coyne argues that

‘these ubiquitous devices and the networks that support them become the means of making incremental adjustments within spaces–of tuning place. Pervasive media help us formulate a sense of place through their capacity to introduce small changes, in the same way that tuning a musical instrument invokes the subtle process of recalibration. Places are inhabited spaces, populated by people, their concerns, memories, stories, conversations, encounters, and artifacts. The tuning of place–whereby people use their devices in their interactions with one another–is also a tuning of social relations’.

His seminar reminded me of a point on our return journey from Mallaig when the NC group were recalibrated to their digital devices as the signal strengthened and emails and text messages poured in… phones bleeped and vibrated to alert their owners to their reinstatement… technology interrupting the moment and blocking out breathtaking views of the west coast as people re-engaged with this aspect of their lives.  

One of the most noticeable features of our time on Knoydart was the interruption to engagement with technology which provided more time and space to think.

Smooth and striated spaces

A momentary interruption in the evening sky as the vapour trail of a transatlantic jet disrupts the apparently smooth space.  However whilst this may be the only visible line–this space is striated by the movement of aircraft , birds and even the changing weather patterns all leaving their traces.  Deleuze and Guattari (1987) suggest the sea is ‘ a smooth space par-excellence ‘  and  describe  how it is striated by bearings and maps which support navigation.  I watched ferries and other vessels leave their wake as they moved purposefully between the two promontories disrupting the surface of the water for a while. 

In contrast the Knoydart experience seemed to interrupt and disrupt my life, a highly striated space, and smooth my space for a time.

Narratives and noticing…

Did I manage to stay silent for 36 hours?  I’ll leave that to your imagination… although I did exceed my own expectations, not an impossible task I suppose when you spend 12 hours alone and have two nights sleep in the period of 36 hours!  I was intrigued how many of the group did not seem to welcome the return to speaking…  as you all know I believe it is almost rude not to talk incessantly in company.  However silence certainly heightens the intensity of your senses and appears to focus your thoughts on the environment.  I will try to bring more silences into my life…

The day after the solo was a day of story-telling in the tipi by the long beach.   An opportunity to talk, to recount ‘your story’ of the solo.  I found this a strange experience – intimate, funny, emotional at times and fascinating too.  All the participants had spent the day in a relatively small area of Knoydart and so there were a number of recurring themes – amazing sights, the cold, noisy Land Rovers and the irritations of insect life- however the personal insights, perceptions and reflections of the experience and the surrounding environment provided a rich tapestry of threads to unpick…

The opportunity to provide feedback was welcomed but this was only a chance to reflect back what you heard in the story- no insights, judgments or suggestions- just an opportunity to tell what you heard.  On a personal level I welcomed this non-judgmental feedback – I found these comments on my narrative both insightful and useful.   ‘A woman who knows how to tell her story’ , ‘a woman who knows her story’ and ‘a woman who sets high expectations and is disappointed by less…’.   My tendency to ‘see things as they are’ to ‘juxtaposition good and the other’ were all noted by my fellow participants… I think many of you who know me might agree…

Becoming peaceful, becoming pensive…

I had a romantic vision of this wilderness solo experience.  I imagined a silent day spent thinking and writing in my journal, watching and dreaming but the reality was cold and harsh. I was less comfortable than I had hoped and did not feel compelled to write… so I decided to chart the events of the day – both the aspirational and the reality.

The ‘solo’ experience

At 5 a.m. a bell rings softly awakening adventure… an I Phone vibrates harshly arousing anxiety

I shower …and remove a roommate’s tick

Breakfast …half eaten

Dress …and re-dress

Pack …and re-pack

Get ready to leave …feel hurried

Walk smartly … try not to be last

At 6 a.m. the soft orange glow of the tipi beckons in the dark … in sharp contrast to the cool neon glare of my head torch

A welcoming fire burns brightly at first casting warm shadows over faces before dying down … but the  ground I am sitting on feels hard and cold and I feel apprehensive

A single bell rings out – time to leave … but the dawn is barely breaking and it is dark and feels like the middle of the night

Stepping outside to greet the day …I stumble over boots and rucksacks strewn around

Silence broken only by sounds of nature- a roaring stag, the hoot of a nearby owl, the sound of twigs snapping in the undergrowth …and the sound of the first estate Land Rover of the day

‘To become peaceful by water’ was the hope I shared tentatively in the group circle last night …hoping to spend a beautiful warm day (like yesterday) on the sandy cove viewed from the boat

Setting off in that direction head torches  flicker against a black backdrop  of woodland and mountains … any chance of glimpsing the sunrise dashed by thick cloud blanketing the sky

I switch off my head torch to allow my eyes to readjust to the dim light … and stumble on the uneven track, I feel jumpy

Kitchen lights along the village spring to life as kettles are boiled and days begin … I think of my small flask, too little sustenance to get me through the day ahead perhaps

Passing now the harbour light and noting a welcome landmark for my return journey … I wonder if I should have stayed on the beach by the Old Byre

My pack feels reassuringly full of food, waterproofs, extra clothing and insect repellent … but already heavy on my shoulder and I miss my usual pack carrier

As dawn becomes daybreak I begin to relax and enjoy the comfortable familiarity of walking out, about an hour we were advised … but without my watch on my wrist I have no sense of time or distance

I make towards the inlet, hoping to reach the quiet sandy bay … but I think it is a dead end ahead- well, a rather expensive shooting lodge

I try to focus on the day …and use Mag’s  relaxation technique to concentrate on ‘what can I see, hear, smell, feel…?’

I see…the dramatic skyline of North Morar and a dull grey day

I hear…stags roaring deep in the hills and another flight making for LA

I smell…Autumn and rotting vegetation

I feel… warm toes in supportive boots tramping on the ground and a little apprehensive

A fellow group member turns in front to retrace his steps at the last bend before the end of the track…I follow suit… I do not want to settle for this rocky shoreline

I follow the road winding round and uphill, over cattle grids, past crags and beyond the lochan and old stone bridge…  but I am hot and puffing with too many layers, I feel unfit

I plod on taking comfort from the breathtaking views unfolding before me … but beyond each bend and twist is another false summit, the road winds on and on

Land Rovers pass carrying their passengers to their playgrounds in distant hills… …a harsh reminder of life’s cold realities

Pushing onward still hoping the next turn will reveal the path to that elusive sandy bay… but inwardly knowing the perfect cove is inaccessible except perhaps by boat or a swim from the boat – unattainable…

Heeding now the suggestion to walk only for about an hour … and knowing it must be least twice that

I turn back with one last wistful gaze towards the cove … and head down hill feeling disappointed

I remember at this point that Dave or was it Mags said not to look for or not to expect magic as sometimes we find what we are looking for in the mundane … do I not look hard enough or not in the right places?

I walk slowly back down past the lochan, beneath the crags, over cattle grids, round bends taking in the view, altered now from this angle and in a different light

I focus again on my senses and try to be mindful…

It is utterly beautiful… but still grey and the distant tops of North Morar are shrouded in mist

It is calm and quiet … but for a distant Land Rover

And later I hear leaves crack and fall from the tree… and the eerie sound of a hunting horn

I feel safe … but cool and I am not peaceful

I find a place for my solo, a place to be …and I wonder if it is a good place to be?  I unpack and make myself part of the space … but the rock is cold and hard and midges quickly swarm around me – my cup of tea topples over and the contents trickle in between the cracks in the rock…

I find my egg mayo sandwiches (thank you Debbie) and munch greedily thinking perhaps I am only hungry … and worry that it is still maybe very early…too early for lunch

I have no sense of the passing time with cloud cover blanketing the sky… time weighs heavily and I wonder how will I pass the day.  I would prefer to walk.  I am cold.

I finish eating and tidy up,  I decide to move to find a spot to feel more settled in – two women pass on their way to the lodge talking loudly about London restaurants… do I wish I was in London?

Knoydart is remote with no road in … but over 100 people live here and many come here by boat so you are never truly alone in this remote place

I find a better spot – with a flat rock to rest my back on – is it ok to be here?  I build a seat, I make a rest for my cup this time and I think I could write here … but within minutes I am besieged by birch flies that crawl on my skin and cling to my fleece

I am cold, I feel low, I want to go home, I do not want to write in my journal…I need to get a grip…  I try to remember:   Why am I here? … I was invited    What do I bring? …an open mind    What will I take from this? …thoughts and ideas

A family settles along the shore – their toing and froing fills the silent space – I absorb some of their comfortable familiarity … and I think of my family

The tide turns and the sea calms again.  The temperature rises slightly.  A boat passes – making its way steadily towards Mallaig … do I wish I was on the boat?

I look up – it is absolutely magical here.  Words fail to describe the beauty of the scene before my eyes … is the message ‘ stop looking so hard – I have all I that I need’ …

Perhaps you think my story is too mundane, too ordinary, too unremarkable to be recounted … but it is only a small part of a bigger story…

Dusk has settled now and I walk back slowly towards the tipi on the beach, past familiar and not so familiar landmarks… past the dead stag in the trailer and the hunter being violently ill at the side of the road

On reaching the tipi, glowing softly in the dark and with the smell of the wood fire filling the air, a skein of geese fly overhead – their noise filling the dark evening sky as they make their way slowly across the vast dark space, constantly communicating with each other, regularly changing leader and altering direction as required…

I wonder what I will take from this experience?  I wonder what we will take from this experience?  And I wonder what the large black bird was which flew along the shoreline at dusk was called?

I try to imagine how this experience might alter the future…  I wonder how our imagination might alter the future….

So- did I become peaceful by the water?  No, not this time  (and not the last time I  spent time there) and probably not next time…  pensive but not peaceful…

Just like the water, this water is not peaceful- it is constantly moving, rivers trickle and run, finding nooks and crannies, tides ebb and flow, water calm or stormy, always moving, fast and slow, giving and taking away, moving and becoming…

This is an unfinished project.