The Relevance of John Ruskin - on Nature

John Ruskin (1819-1900)

“Nature is painting for us, day after day, pictures of infinite beauty if only we have the eyes to see them.” 

“Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather. ” 

“Remember that the most beautiful things in life are often the most useless; peacocks and lilies for instance.” 

"I will not kill or hurt any living creature needlessly, nor destroy any beautiful thing, but will strive to save and comfort all gentle life, and guard and perfect all natural beauty upon the earth."

"Mountains are the beginning and the end of all natural scenery." 

"The actual flower is the plant's highest fulfilment, and are not here exclusively for herbaria, county floras and plant geography: they are here first of all for delight."

"There is no climate, no place, and scarcely an hour, in which nature does not exhibit color which no mortal effort can imitate or approach. For all our artificial pigments are,even when seen under the same circumstances, dead and lightless beside her living color; nature exhibits her hues under an intensity of sunlight which trebles their 

brilliancy."

"I would rather teach drawing that my pupils may learn to love nature, than teach the looking at nature that they may learn to draw."

"It is written on the arched sky; it looks out from every star. It is the poetry of Nature; it is that which uplifts the spirit within us."

The River's Secret

What rivers tell us...

“Have you also learned that secret from the river; that there is no such thing as time?" That the river is everywhere at the same time, at the source and at the mouth, at the waterfall, at the ferry, at the current, in the ocean and in the mountains, everywhere and that the present only exists for it, not the shadow of the past nor the shadow of the future.”
 

(Hermann Hesse)

Where the Heart Is

The overhanging branches were so tightly entwined that they blocked out the sun and thus provided much-needed shade on that day of cloudless, azure skies in August 1989.  After half a mile, I emerged from under the leafy canopy back out into the glaring light and stifling heat.  The road now ran parallel with the sparkling waters of the lake and on the opposite shore, the shattered screes stood menacingly in the shadows.  Never before had I seen such stark contrast of light and dark, tranquillity and danger.  Ahead lay the Wasdale valley encircled by an arc of bare high mountains; to the left, Yewbarrow - shaped like an inverted boat, then the great steep bulk of Kirk Fell with the inn at its foot, and to the right; Lingmell and the Scafells.  In the centre stood the pyramid-shaped Great Gable, its height emphasised by a purple-red hue and the deep gulf separating it from the other fells.  It was love at first sight. 

It was the scenery, the chocolate-box images of Ullswater and Grasmere that initially drew me to Cumbria and those early visits represented escape and freedom.  I wanted to be in contact with the natural world and beautiful landscapes.  I was preoccupied with ‘bagging’ fells, panoramic views and covering as much ground as possible.  I studied maps and guide-books but soon realised that they could only tell me a limited amount.  My sense of Cumbria was changing and with it, the nature of my activities.  It  became more important to take things at a slower pace, dispense with goals and pre-set destinations and just ramble and explore. I decided the best way to gain a real knowledge of the place was to abandon day walks and instead trek and wild-camp high among the fells.

Only a walker knows the sheer joy of putting one foot in front of the other along a mountain path, feeling the earth beneath your feet and the sense of freedom that comes with big skies and open space. Walking is the best way to fully encounter a place as the close contact with the physical environment fosters intimacy with it.  During my many walks I followed in the footsteps of the Vikings and Romans, generations of local farmers, shepherds and miners, poets and artists.  I explored the ruins of farmhouses and castles, visited abandoned mines, handled the debris of megalithic axe factories and traced the carvings of stone circles with my fingers, wondering all the while about those past lives and feeling the mystery and magic of these places. I spent time observing birds and wildlife, peering into tarns and wild flower heads, observing the changes of the seasons and the cycle of birth, growth, death and re-birth.  I learnt to read and interpret the subtle changes in the atmosphere, to understand and recognise the moods of the high places.  I slept under star-filled skies with the base of the tent beneath me, aware of my body pressing on the earth and the smell of the grass reaching me as I slept.  I bathed in the rivers and drank from the fast-flowing streams and waterfalls.  I cooked food and shared it with the birds and wild animals, came to know the red squirrels, deer, pine-martins, the sheep and cattle.  I had been a stranger here without  familial or links of any kind, a visitor, but Cumbria ceased to be a mere holiday destination, a place that provided rest and relaxation and aesthetic beauty.  My growing experience and knowledge of the geography, geology, flora and fauna, history and stories, developed into a deep admiration and attachment to the area.  I was beginning to see the world with new eyes and appreciated the small, the ordinary even more than the majestic and the sublime.

 

In her book ‘The Living Mountian,’ Nan Shepherd says of her walks in high places: “I have walked out of the body and into the mountain.”  I think this is such a beautiful and heart-felt way of expressing the feeling that I too experience when walking across the fells.  Among the ageless mountains and streams, the vastness of the sky and rolling hills and fields, you lose yourself. But then around the next bend, or over the brow of the hill, you bump into yourself.  There are no words to aptly describe the phenomenon but it happens.  It is a fleeting glimpse, a momentary deep understanding of the bigger picture of life. Such close contact with the natural world has left me feeling more at-home with the universe and I feel part of something bigger, greater and mysterious.  The sights, sounds, colours and creatures I have encountered have given me a heightened sense of being alive. The years of walking and wild-camping experiences in Cumbria have taught me that this county is only a tiny part, a microcosm of the wider world and represents what I truly love; the natural world, the living planet.  

Back in the city, the fells and running water called to me endlessly. Images of particular fells, lakes, tarns, paths, ridges, sunsets were the scenes that blocked out the buildings, shops and pavements. In the end, I realised I could not live so far from what I loved.  My beloved called, and frequent visits did not fully satisfy the craving so finally, three years ago I relocated to Cumbria. I left the concrete and steeI, the traffic-jams and noise to settle amid the birdsong and flowing streams, with the fells as a backdrop to my daily life and the horizon stretched out in front of me.   

Tennyson's Joy on Seeing Snowdrops

Many, many welcomes,
February fair-maid,
Ever as of old time,
Solitary firstling,
Coming in the cold time,
Prophet of the gay time,
Prophet of the May time,
Prophet of the roses,
Many, many welcomes,
February fair-maid!

Alfred Tennyson (1809 - 1892)

The Need for National Parks

Looking down to Buttermere and Crummock Water on a hazy summer's day

 

 

“The tendency nowadays to wander in wilderness is delightful to see.  Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilised people are beginning to findout that going to the mountains is going home; that wilderness is a necessity; that mountain parks and reservations are useful not only as fountains of timber and irrigating rivers, but as fountains of life.  Awakening from the stupefying effects of the vice of over-industry and the deadly apathy of luxury, they are trying as best they can to mix and enrich their own little ongoings with those of Nature, and to get rid of rust and disease.  Briskly venturing and roaming, some are washing off sins and cobweb cares of the devil’s spinning in all-day storms on mountains; sauntering in rosiny pinewoods or in gentian meadows, brushing through chaparral, bending down and parting sweet, flowery sprays; tracing rivers to their sources, getting in touch with the nerves of  Mother Earth; jumping from rock to rock, feeling the life of them, learning the songs of them, panting in whole-souled exercise, and rejoicing in deep, long-drawn breaths of pure wildness…Wander here a whole summer, if you can.  Thousands of God’s wild blessings will search you and soak you like a sponge and the big days will go by uncounted.”  

 

(John Muir) 

 

 River Esk flowing from its source among the Scafells

 

More to a Map than Meets the Eye

I love maps. 

 

Unfolding a map, laying it out on the table or floor, leaning over it and tracing the different paths, the course of rivers and streams, and identifying the other physical features builds to the anticipation of the planned walk.  Scanning a map with my eyes, knowing that the next day my footsteps will be in contact with that ground, know directly the nuances of the landscape, adds to the excitement.  Maps may stop you from getting lost but you can also get lost in a map.  They are not purely functional things but are like books, a source of idle pleasure, learning and appreciation for the wonders of the earth.  They give lessons in geography and geology, in natural and human history.

 

Maps can be perused during long winter days when the weather forces you to stay indoors and without leaving the house, you can wander about the hills and valleys, through towns and along riverbanks.  They can take you outdoors to places you have never been to envisage the scene in your imagination, invite you to remember and walk again along paths previously trod and touch the summit cairns of mountains already climbed. Maps are invitations to venture anew and to look backwards, to step outside and to turn inwards. They can be enjoyed alone or shared with others, indoors or outdoors, in winter or summer, day or night.

When I am following the paths, tracks and contours of a map,whether with my eyes or feet, I am blissfully happy.  Yes, maps do a lot, and there is much more to them than meets the eye.

 

Of course, I am not alone in my love of maps - that great walker and writer, Robert Louis Stephenson, also shared the same passion.

"I am told there are people who do not care for maps, and find it hard to believe.  The names, the shapes of the woodlands, the courses of the roads and rivers, the prehistoric footsteps of man still distinctly traceable up hill and down dale, the mills, and the ruins, the ponds and the ferries, perhaps the ‘Standing Stone’ or the ‘Druidic Circle’ on the heath; here is the inextinguishable fund of interest for any man with eyes to see or two-pence worth of imagination to understand with!"

(Robert Louis Stephenson)