ECHO 11/4/06

Up through the pale trees to Castlerigg along by the River Greta tumbling fast from the downpour and thaw of yesterday - Neolithic stone circle there among the dry stone walls, the backpackers and scouts sit in their day-glo blue and red; fat ladies carry cameras that baffle them, snap-snap - the clouds chase shadows over the harlequin landscape -

To be away from people; to be nowhere in the rain with its gentle sound on the woodland and its effect on the stream nearby; no more than a swan and a robin or two for company. To me, this is happiness. Freedom in each moment. Peace. With only my notebook, my camera, and my walking boots. Treading the green undergrowth, the twilight calls, that final activity of the day as it edges toward night. Across the lake the hill rumble, almost a yawn. These are what I find communicate to me more than the jabber of people with their subtle motivations and agendas. Some might call me forever lonely or antisocial. But out by the lake there is no possibility of loneliness - my senses are full, settled. I have all I need. The liquid majesty and eternal patience at the water’s edge. The careful consideration of what is before me: the low reeds, the solid granite giants, the muddy bank and the old stone jetty leading the eye, the gentle lap of the tide on shale -