Letters From The Moors - A Sister's Journey 09

On day 9 of their 110-mile hiking journey, the two sisters are joined by two fellow walkers. Liz becomes aware of how her mind has started jumping to opinions and actively engaging in conversations, disrupting the calm and clarity that the trek had brought her. The thought of soon leaving the walk and returning to normal life fills her with a sense of sadness. She relishes the rivers, woods and the act of walking itself, knowing this is the penultimate day of their adventure.

Transcript

Hello and welcome to the Dartmoor Way with me Liz Scott.

I hope you enjoy my 110 mile journey around the outskirts of Dartmoor National Park in Devon in the UK.

In August 2023,

I completed this walk with my sister and following it,

I wrote a series of 10 letters to her sharing my memories and experiences.

This is day nine and today we walked 11 and a half miles between Tavistock and Shore Prior.

Dear sister,

Today I am writing about the penultimate day of our walk.

We were no longer on our own,

We had some new travelling companions.

It felt strange not being able to dance through life at my own tempo,

To stop,

To pause,

To take photos,

To hug trees,

To stare at views.

Today I found my mind jumping to answer questions and feeling the need to express opinions.

Today I found myself answerable to others.

We met Mary and Jane at Shore Bridge and after we had some hugs and hellos,

We piled into my car and whizzed off to Yelverton.

We were hoping to catch the bus but we were pushing it fine with timings.

I parked my car and we spilled out just as the bus approached.

Then we started to run and jog towards the bus stop.

Jane was the fastest,

She ran ahead,

Determined to flag it down.

Mary and I half jogged and speed walked,

Whereas you took a leisurely pace.

You were absolutely right.

There was no need to hurry.

Even in catching the bus,

Your pace was right.

Your pace is the pace.

There is no need for speed.

The bus waited at the bus stop until all of us had got on board.

For some reason,

Today I found it hard to adjust.

On the previous day we had ambled and I'd loved it.

We had intuitively meandered in and out of churches.

We'd watched the view and found a pace that seemed to work for both of us.

If my inner world were a pond,

Then on the Lydford to Tavistock walk it had been calm and settled.

The pond today felt very different.

It was now rippling with additional voices and conversations.

Pebble after pebble splashed in.

Yesterday I had dissolved into the landscape and felt a sense of blurred edges between my body and nature.

Today,

The identity of Liz with her ideas and opinions and importance came back to life.

Liz wanted to join in the conversation,

To express herself and to be heard.

She wanted to be right.

This Liz was not part of the landscape.

She was separate from it.

We headed as a group to the Warkham Valley and as we did the dark threatening skies opened.

We pulled on rain jackets and trousers and in your case a rain poncho and we carried on towards the river,

Heads bowed and noses dripping with rainwater.

As we started to follow the river,

I noticed the trees,

The moth,

The dampness of the tree bark and the lusciousness of this River Warkham rainforest.

I'd been following ribbons of rainforest throughout this trek and once again I felt an incredible reverence for this space.

I tried to communicate this to Mary and Jane.

I wanted them to feel the sacredness of the energy of these trees.

I wanted to convey my love and joy at experiencing this place.

I longed for them to share and connect in this passion.

However,

My words seemed wooden and flat.

I didn't do the rainforest justice.

My language was unable to capture the feeling that I wanted to share.

I loved the River Warkham with its water gushing over rocks and into pools.

It had such an energy.

There weren't many walkers following this route and we made steady progress and soon peeled off our raincoats and rain trousers.

The passing shower had gone.

Do you remember we climbed out of the Warkham Valley and up onto the Drake's Trail?

That's the cycle route linking Yalverton and Tavistock.

Here we found ourselves above the trees as we crossed Gem Bridge.

We were as high as birds flying above the canopy.

I became aware of one family who were telling off their daughter.

I remember hearing the parent's scolter telling her off for her selfishness at running off and hiding.

I also imagined this youngster feeling a delicious sense of playfulness when she'd first run off and hidden.

I imagined that when she'd revealed her hiding place she'd been expecting laughter and surprise and teasing but she'd completely misjudged things and instead was facing frightened parents and a long lecture.

We had a good stop at Yalverton and went to the delicatessen and enjoyed a cup of tea.

The steaming tea was a treat and I can't remember completely but I'm pretty sure that Mary probably had some kind of cake.

She always loves a bit of food.

I remember her cooing about this jewel of a place with its rows of jars and jams and chutneys,

With its artisan biscuits,

Breads and cakes.

It was so much more civilised than our experience yesterday when we sat on that granite rock and ate our pita bread and bananas.

The final part of the walk took us through grazed meadows beside the River Mevie.

This new river was now our guide.

I wanted to slow down rather than forge ahead.

I wasn't keen on getting to our destination as quickly as possible.

I wanted to savour and enjoy and stretch out this final part of the journey.

I wanted to capture the pilgrim mindset.

At one point we came across a copse with an old oak tree in it.

My whole being felt compelled to touch the tree,

To greet it,

To get a blessing and to give a blessing and just to stand with it for a few minutes.

But everyone was marching on ahead.

In my mind I imagined what it would be like if I called on everyone to stop and then tried to explain my need to be with this tree for a few minutes.

I know you wouldn't have needed any explanation,

But I imagined that Mary and Jane would find it odd and strange.

In an instant I realised that stopping others would break the connection I felt for the tree,

So instead I sent it a prayer and wished it well and thanked it and continued onward to catch up with you all.

As we stumbled back on the rocky track to Shore Prior car park,

I felt such a strong sense of gratitude of being on this walk and of sharing it with others.

These two additional walkers had been my teachers.

They had helped me realise that over the past week I had indeed settled down and found a rhythm and pace that was meditative and calming.

Their chatter and conversation were a reminder of what it would be like to return to the normal world again.

I realised that I resisted this.

I resisted the idea of putting on the suit of Liz,

Of redefining and asserting myself in the world.

I don't yet know how to be a pilgrim with a pilgrim sense of oneness in the everyday hurly-burly of life.

Maybe that will be my next lesson.

At the end of the walk today,

I felt slightly bereft in realising that the next day was the final day.

I didn't want this pilgrimage to end,

But I was so grateful that it would just be you and me on the final day of walking.