The week’s craziness dissipates with every step, evaporating and blowing away. Another wave of clouds come through and I pause under a big old tree, waiting for the rain to pass. Behind me, what sounds like a frogmouth ohms its call, and as a rainbow breaks over the shallow valley in front of bright cumulus, the kangaroos slowly emerge from under cover and start grazing again. The stream is flowing clear, and everything is still green in a flush of late spring growth.
I am reminded, as I often am, of how walking is the only real way to experience landscape on an intimate scale. Surfing and cross country skiing are the same. Once it gets mechanical, you’re generally moving too fast to catch the nuances of landscape.
It also got me thinking about the frame of mind that can help to drive and inform your walking.