The Wakerley Woods walk with Forest Bathing. 1 August 2024

Words and pictures by Tony Attwood.  If we could have music as well that would also be by Tony as well, but we can’t so it isn’t.  And let that be a lesson to us all.

Thus we gathered at the start of the new month of August in the year of 2024, cars dutifully parked in the designated zone, with much welcoming of seeing old friends and greeting new acquaintances.

And while I do not want to focus too much on my own circumstances, it was a special event for me as it was my return to rambling after many a month away.  A couple of attempts along the way, it is true, but now, forsooth, I do believe I am getting there, wherever there is.

Thus it was I was armed with my camera, and darting hither and yon, took it upon myself to take pictures a-plenty, including ofcourse the considering and checking of the maps.  But on this occasion, all were not able to proceed as normal for we also had the added consideration of “how come my  key won’t open my car door and even if it does why doesn’t the engine start?”

This was perceived as man’s work (although not by me) and so the other men gathered en masse each offering an opinion and view – was it the wrong key, or perchance the wrong car, or indeed the wrong car park or perchance the battery that operated the key or possibly the nuclear power reactor that operated the door, or maybe the polarity needed reversing (as fans of Doctor Who may well recall)?

Our picture does indeed reflect this intimate world of manly debate and after much froing and too-ing and indeed vice versa the door was opened and the car was started (there being no desire to risk it not starting again.  Thus before we left we were minus one.

So now and heretofore with technical issues resolved it was that  important time before all walks at which we all stand around looking knowledgable enough to suggest that each of us knew where we were and what would happen next, but not so knowledgable that anyone would actually ask us where we were and what might happen thereafter.

Our leader expressed his views and opinions in clear terms – we were here to walk and walking was what we would do, and with there being no nay-sayers present we waited for our leader to, well, lead.  As it were.

And jolly successful that idea was for within a trice together we were called, the essence of walking was explained for the benefit of anyone who was not fully familiar with the activity and order was established.

And indeed lo and behold we set out along tracks that had been walked this way before revealing flora and fauna galore as we walked on.

Ahead we were told there would be the land of the forest bathing of which it has been said, but first we would be required to walk and make our way.

Of course, for those of an urban origin such as myself this notion of the single-tracked footpath can be hard to grasp since walking along one such involves polite conversation and  no pushing each under into the bushes, and that, as a Londoner, I must admit took me a while to get used to.

But I do think that after three or four years of Rambling I have got the hang of these things and the police have only been called to restrain me half a dozen times in the last year – well certainly no more than a dozen.

No, I can clearly say I have got the hang of this walking in the countryside malarky, watching where I put my feet and no treading on passing leopards or other wildlife of which I had been warned.

The ground was firm, the mud was polite and controlled and the conversation lively and jolly and thus we progressed onto the land whereupon forest bathing could be experienced.  Indeed eventually we reached the discussion point wherein we knew that the sacred land of forest bathing was almost upon us

But this I feel is an issue of such magnitude that it should be dealt with in an article of its own, so that you do not get the idea that  one can just go for a jolly jaunt and find some woodland and then have a kip.  Oh my word no!  Not at all!!

For no, there are technicalities and rules to be observed and one must most certainly be sure that one is not disobeying them, not because one might subsequently be arrested, but because this could result in a faux pas which could make one look a trifle out of touch with reality.

For walking and indeed forest bathing are fun, but they must both be done right and proper, as I shall show in the next article covering the exciting and varied life of Peterborough Ramblers: taking it (and indeed putting it back) one day at a time.