I’ve just seen a blackcap fly out of the tree, wander around the grass by the trunk, then fly onto a rock in the beck. White belly, dust brown back and wings, and a black cap to top off its white face. A dipper flew by earlier and now a pair of ducks – mallards – has… Read More
The fifth installation: seven stones, a poem created during seven hours walking, and thoughts on tension and points of view. Read More
Notes from the Dark Walks/2: A journey into Langstrath Valley to spend sunset and sunrise with the Birch… Read More
Seven days in the fells, simply, walking. No roof but the sky, air always fresh, bodies engaged, minds on the simple task of putting one foot in front of the other and the gentle but necessary concentration that comes with that – walking on uneven paths with a heavy load requires a focused mind. When… Read More
THE LONG VIEW