Moved Journal │ Winter 2023
Last winter felt particularly murky. And we’re only halfway through this one. But I’m attempting to approach this year’s dark season with a different mindset – one which, I hope, will make it not only more bearable but perhaps even enjoyable.
I’m trying to lean into it a little, accept the cold and darkness for what they are; an opportunity for some kind of restoration. To that end, after several months of struggling to wake up in the mornings to take my usual walk before the grind kicks in, I’m starting to venture out again with a gentler, more conscious rhythm. Cold-weather walks stir different moods to those taken on balmy days, and I still want to benefit from their mental boost, even if I can’t quite rise as early as I used to.
How are you approaching this midwinter? Are you sinking into it, or surrendering? Either way, I hope you’re finding comfort and not being too hard on yourself if you, too, have had to adapt your ways of being, recently.
It can be hard to remember the warmth of the sun touching your skin at this time of year. But the days are already starting to lengthen, and life is beginning to peek through again, renewed after its hiatus. I’m going to try not to wish away these cold, dark days in favour of what’s around the corner, though. Instead, I’m going to see if I can appreciate winter that little bit more and use the long nights to rest up and get ready for the high-energy seasons ahead. Which might, of course, be easier said than done.
Sophie x
Why walk in winter?
There’s a particular magic to winter walking — brought about by the crystalline quality of the air, perhaps — that makes it one of my favourite times of year to go for a hike. And, scientifically speaking, winter brings with it a bounty of benefits that can be enjoyed, for free, by getting outside in the cold.
Cold-weather walking is thought to awaken your immune system from its post-Christmas slumber and, in doing so, reduce inflammation and its associated risks. Walking in the cold also stimulates the brain, whereas warm weather tends to make it a bit more lethargic. So winter walking can afford us some of our sharpest thinking while giving us the mood boost that we often need at this time of year.
Moving in cold weather requires more blood flow, which means your heart gets more of a workout in winter, and you also burn more calories if that’s a goal.
What I love most about walking at this time of year, though, is the solace it seems to bring. Perhaps it’s because there’s less competition for the pavement. Perhaps it’s because, bundled up against the elements, you’re cocooned in your own private little world. Cold-weather walks are, for me, often the most reflective walks to be had.
“He who marvels at the beauty of the world in summer will find equal cause for wonder and admiration in winter.”
What to look forward to in the months ahead
February
After the harshness of January, February feels like winter’s final hurdle. And there’s plenty to celebrate outside this month. The evenings start to draw out — by mid-February giving us an extra three minutes of light a day — which doesn’t sound like much but it sure makes a difference. The snowdrops begin to bloom, as do the fiery witch hazels, irises, cyclamens, hellebores and Daphne flowers.
February’s also great month for deer watching and spotting rabbits, hares and even stoats and weasels when you’re out and about on foot, thanks to the lack of ground vegetation. Certain geese and swans migrate south from Britain in February, so you’ll spot more flocks in the sky. And, as a result of climate change — so not a cause for celebration but perhaps a welcome pop of colour — blossoms often bloom earlier in the year now.
March
March is the gateway into spring, even if the weather proves not to be all that spring-like. There is, of course, the changing of the clocks at the end of the month, heralding the long, golden days of summer ahead of us. But there’s plenty to notice and enjoy before daylight saving time, too.
If they haven’t already made an early appearance, March is the month that yellow daffodils burst into life, followed promptly by brightly coloured tulips and crocuses, hyacinths, primroses and the blossom trees — magnolias, pears and the iconic cherries. Wildlife is well and truly awake in March, and you’ll notice an abundance of birdsong if you walk without music. You’ll also start to see butterflies, bees and a host of other pollinating insects kick-starting their spring routines.
And March is the month that the first migratory arrivals of the year begin to appear on our shores — swallows, terns, sandpipers and many more. If you can, try to catch the last of the awe-inspiring starling murmurations this month. It’s a beautiful time of year to get out for some longer walks and try to absorb some of the new energy of the natural world.
Reflections from the trail
It’s hard to put into words why anyone would want to hike 100 km in two days. Let alone why they’d want to do it without company.
My last endurance hike, back in August of last year, was a solo journey along The Ridgeway. I’d done it a few years previous with an ex-partner over five or six relatively leisurely days. But this time I was going it alone and attempting to cover the trail in just a weekend. It’s all the precious time I had.
It wasn’t the need for a challenge that took me out there. It was the need for silence and solace. Somehow, it’s as if the land itself knew what would do me good and was calling me to it. I often feel that about walks; a pang to experience a familiar place or a particular type of scenery that’s as intense as a craving. In this instance, I’d been daydreaming about big, open landscapes for weeks — a place of warm summer colour in which to rest my eyes and mind for a bit. And, having already walked The Ridgeway, I knew it offered the expansive views and relative seclusion I needed to try and locate the ends of the various threads that seemed to have knotted themselves up in my brain over the previous months.
It’s a very healthy thing, I think, to step right away sometimes so that you can take in the full picture. As a younger woman, I spent a lot of time hiding from myself and doing my best to avoid looking at ‘the picture’ at all. But as I got older and discovered endurance hiking, I found a way to self-converse that I’d never known before. When it’s just you, your thoughts, your aches and pains, your ailments, thirsts and hungers that need attending to, you have no choice but to really be with yourself. And you gain a new appreciation for her.
So, that’s how I ended up back on The Ridgeway one very drizzly, wind-battered morning in August. I felt things slipping, and I made some time to do the thing I knew would straighten them out again. And the sense of elation and, I suppose, “fuck you patriarchy!” that I felt when I set out alone that day was incredible. Even if it was quickly replaced with “why do I do these things?” when I fell, gracelessly, into a muddy ditch no more than three minutes after stepping off the bus.
That’s endurance hiking for you, though — a journey of contrasts, of ups and downs, discomfort and beauty that I think is the essential cocktail for happiness. Discomfort reminds us to appreciate ease and small pleasures. Beauty and awe overcome pain — physical or emotional. A reminder of the wonder of the world that it’s so easy to forget amidst the drudgery.
I walked in hammering rain and relentless winds for the first several hours of this hike, water squelching from my leggings and shoes, knowing that this would likely be the end of the line for a few of my toenails. I laughed out loud to myself in the storm, nobody else around for miles to hear me. And then the rain eased and a field of sunflowers appeared in the murk to turn maniacal laughter into tears of joy. What a breathtaking thing this was that my eyes were seeing. And the sun never went back in. 100 km of endless views and endless conversations with myself that left me feeling thoroughly sorted out by the time I boarded the train back home.
My toenails still haven’t recovered, but what I lost in podiatric appeal I gained a hundredfold in peace of mind.
