Heather Covered

I would love to visit the Lake District in North-West England - the port to Scotland - with you. Walk over the flowering heathland of 'Lingmoor fell'. Smell and see the colors of Beatrice Potter's her 'Hill Top Farm'. Drink cider. Have dinner. ... - there must be more ;)

Flexible Light

Travel light! Yes, I travel light but as light as a scout. I don't believe in travel light as in having "nothing" in your rugsack. Travel light is for me above a light mind that is open for the world around and in him/ her.

When I walk I've the following items in my rugsack:

- Pocket knife

- Spare laces for my walking shoes

- Rope 3 meter 

- Sunglasses

- Cap

- Sun tan lotion

- Toiletpaper in a plastic bag

- Poncho

- Telephone with cord

- Powerbank for telephone 

- Wallet

- Water

- Sandwiches and fruit

- Map

These items, together with the clothes I wear (always 3 or 4 layers of clothes), give me maximum flexibility. I can sleep in my poncho. I can walk 50 kilometers a day. Protected against rain, sun, wind and snow. Everything with and on me to survive "everything" literally and figuratively.

I have in me all the dreams of the world.

P.S. I wrote on this before in blogpost 'All Dreams of World'  (december 2015).

No Pictures

In a couple of weeks I'll join an Agnes Obel concert. Together with my oldest daughter and one of her best friends. I am very fond of this song: Familiar. I don't know why.

Yesterday I made a 21 kilometer walk. Alone. T. didn't have any wanderlust. Lovely walk. It's spring in my country. The sun was very warm. I didn't make any pictures. These days I am experimenting with "no pictures". To experience if I look better, more concentrated when I don't make frozen pictures. To be offline visually. To live in the now. To breath in and out without society's kiss on my forehead by showing (off) where I've been.

Proud

The weather was hot. Sometimes tropical. On the last day rain - a lot - for two hours. 

Step. Step. Step. Hour after hour. Fighting with the demons of laziness, pain, sleep and goal-keeping. And then - step, step, step - a few more steps and one more International Four Days Marches Nijmegen is finished.  It was my 6th and last one. I am very proud on my medal. Did you know that this medal represents the distance between The Netherlands and Italy by foot?

To-Do

My list of walks to-do:

• Long distance footpath GR 20 on Corsica (France). In 15 days 180 km #Corsica

• Starting Whithorn (Dumfries and Galloway). Via Monreith House and House of Elrig to Glasgow. Long distance footpath The West Highland Way (Scotland). Via Fort William to Loch Hourn. Ending in Camusfearna. Estimation: 24 days 444 km #Scotland #GavinMaxwell

• The workman's path between Deir el Medina and the Valley of the Kings (Dutch 'Dal der Koningen') near Luxor (Egypt). In 3 hours not so many km. #AncientEgypt

Source map: A. Siliotti, 'Guide to the Valley of the Kings and the Theban Necropolises and Temples' (1996)

• Classic Inca trail to Machu Picchu (Peru). In 4 days 46 km #AncientPeru

• From Marathon to Athene. In 1 day 40 km #AncientGreece

• Around Nabta Playa (Egypt). ? km #BeforeAncientEgypt

Scan Sky for Rain

Do we all descend from Charlemagne (in Dutch 'Karel de Grote')? Yes, most of us - just like you and me - white 'homo sapiens' in Europe descend from this king that lived 1,200 years ago. Sensational for you? For me not.

Most of the time our ancestors of more than three generations ago hardly feel close or familiar. Most of the time they feel as strangers. Most of the time I am indifferent about their dreams, tears and fears.

Last Sunday I walked for four hours. My first "big" walk since I finished the Nijmeegse Vierdaagse two months ago. I realized that walking brings me most close to our ancestors of 100 or 500 or 1,000 or 1,200 or 2,000 or 10,000 years ago. Not books. Not music. Not food. Not a film. Not a documentary. Walking!

Walking as historical sensation. Dust on the road. The need for drinking and eating. The limitations of the (walking) body. Never really know what comes next. Strangers. Cautious and scanning looking people. Dogs. In the back of your mind know and remind where home is. Follow the sun for orientation. Scan the sky for rain. ... In this respect life hardly changed since 10,000 years.  

Listening to Crystal Gayle

King Offa was one of the kings who lived in the 8th century in Great Britain. To protect his kingdom Mercia against the various kingdoms of Wales he built a great dyke between his and theirs. Offa's dyke is a great earthen barrier of circa 283 km that runs between England and Wales.

In 1989 I walked with friend X the long distance path that roughly follows Offa's Dyke. Clouds. Lot's of clouds. Most of the days heavy with rain. Rain. We had a lot of it. Sun. We had more of that.

After a few days we got more and more tired. Rucksack of 20 kg. Walking 30 kilometers each day. Sleeping in a little tent in the middle of "nowhere".

One evening we arrived at the top of another hill. Beauty is subject to inflation if you see it after every corner of the road. Tired. Looking for a place to sleep. I walked back to the house we just passed some minutes ago. Another night at a Bed-Breakfast? Wow, yes please. That would be nice. Warm hot bath. Comfortable bed. Something to eat?

Setback! No beds left. We discussed about what to next. The landlord of the Bed-Breakfast walked to us. "There is another Bed-Breakfast down the road. I just called. If you want to, you can stay there. Do you want a ride in my Landrover?" Yes please!

1 hour later. Shaved. Took a bath. Sitting in a warm and cozy room of a Manor. Music of  Crystal Gayle - her music was new to me. Soup. Bread. Stew (cawl?). Wine. It was the best meal I ate in my life.

What Food, Glorious food! story do you want to share?

Lost world: the smell of woodfire

The world is full of little treasures. The world is full of lost worlds. If - and only if - we take the time to take a closer look. I descent from a family of farmers. My grandfather was a farmer. My grandgrandfather was a farmer. My father was the first one who broke the line. I descent from a christian family. My father is a christian. My grand(grand)father was a christian. I'm the first one who broke the line. I remember sitting alone with my daddies mum in the old kitchen of her. Silence. The clock tapping. The smell of woodfire. The smell of food on the stove. Jesus on a cross.

The smell of wood and the yearly routine of christians. It's lost for me. Ofcourse there is Christmas and ofcourse I light a big woodfire a few times a year but the necessity is lost. For my daddies mum it was just the way it was - without realising it - day in day out, year in year out. Wood had to be cut into pieces to light up the stove for warmth and cooking food. Going to church 4 or 5 times a week to celebrate her inner belief.

The world of woodfire is lost for me. Gather wood. Store up cut wood. Store up the twigs. Dry and wet wood. Wood of pine, oak, birch or aspen. How to light up a fire in an stove. How long a piece of oak or aspen burns. The smell of wood when it's wet. The light pinewood gives. How to regulate the stove for cooking. And ... - there must be more hidden treasures in the world of woodfire?

I like to take a walk in the fall and winter. Pass old houses where a woodfire burns. Mostly remembering my daddies mum and the world that went with her death.

P.s. I was talking about my fathers side of my family but the story is exactly the same for my mothers side.