I drive up to Underbank Reservoir
for a walk
with a bag packed with all I need.
I turn off my phone, which was harder than I'd like to admit.
The false start branches of the coniferous trees. The
thin trunk pulling my eyes upwards to the
green canopy. These trees are delicate, their fallen comrades
lay at their feet.
There's some people in canoes on the reservoir, which looks like fun
but I wish they weren't there.
A click and a whistle. I wonder what bird that
is. I look for it and see the trees sway,
they sway too much. I can see why they fall.
And then, there it was. Along the western edge of
the reservoir, a heron.
I'd hoped I'd see one. I find them intoxicating.
It stood so still that I worried it wasn't real.
Then it started to wade
through the shadows and
marsh.
Something spooked it and up it went. Those
big slow wings from a time long ago
taking it away.
There's a beautiful hamlet on the
other side of the path.
Maybe it has problems like everywhere else
maybe the people don't appreciate its beauty because there's no Wifi or shops.
But it sure looks lovely.
Suddenly the path stops and I seem to be
in someone's garden. There was a gate out
into the road. I take it and I'm back in the real world for a while.
Before I find a path back through a small car park: "Keep Out"
It feels more like Autumn. There are acorns and brown wavy
leaves on the path on this side of the reservoir.
These trees are much more substantial.
Gnarled, twisted and strong.
I found a spot down on the bank to sit
with my book. There's something about reading
next to water.
"I hope that heron comes and sits with me. Is that weird?
Surely it wouldn't. Imagine if it did"
I roll my ankle over the elbow of
a root. I said "ow" before it hurt. It was ok.
I start and stop a jog a few times. I convince
myself that the ground is too uneven and it's not my
unfitness why I stop.
"I hunch when I walk. I can feel it across my
shoulders. Is that because I have an office job?
I need to fix that."
The sound of traffic mixes with the sound of the wind.
I can't tell which is which.
Up on the eastern edge is the damn. Thirty geese
stand at its foot, watching, keeping
guard of the water.
It's much windier along the damn. A gull plays
with the wind, never flapping.
"I've noticed that for the past hour or so I've
got out of my own way. I spend a lot of time hating
myself but today, just watching things and
noting them down, seemed to give me a rest."
It won't last. But it's here now. Which is good.
A little further along the path is a bench.
"Why here? There's no view. A tree is in the way"
But the plaque reads
'For Margaret's friends. May they rest here a while.'
And the world seems quieter and to
make sense.
There's a slight incline as I come back to the
beginning of my circuit. My breath is a little
heavier, which makes the ever growing
coldness of the wind, reach the bottom of my lungs.
It feels refreshing.
