The Walk from Wittering part 2: Into the depths…

Pictures by Tony Attwood, on the grounds that no one else was taking any as far as I could see, and commentary is, well, probably that matter should be left unresolved…   But I should add it is perfectly acceptable just to look at the pictures and be reminded of where we went.  You don’t have to read the rest of the text, astonishing though it is…  If you missed it part one was here.

And that which we can most certainly see from this first picture of what we photographers like to call “the second set” there may well be some blueidity (if I may use the word) in the sky.  Yet in the lower levels through which we progressed, we were in the darker lands.

And indeed it is here that lurks within, creatures of the strangest kind; for I could feel their very essence within the bushes and between the bracken, hiding low within the nettles, watching us pass, waiting for the chance to pounce upon… well to pounce upon an unwary photographer who the rest of the walkers had left behind as they progressed upon their merry way upwards towards the light…. the light that the dedicated snapper of pictures might feel would perhaps never be reached again with the rest of the ensemble ever further away, caring not a jot for the poor fell0w-traveller attempting to make a record of all that was passed and all that could be seen.

But of course such is the life of those of us who follow the artistic course of life, the actor, the musician, the artist, the writer… we are left to record the world as best we can while others march on ahead.

But I am pleased to say, I was wary of such manoeuvres (and indeed able on the fifth attempt to find a way to spell that troublesome word), as taking a quick by-pass unnoticed by others I managed to reach the front, pop out and take a picture of the rest of the ensemble heading toward me.

Just look at their surprise!

And of course, all the while taking the pictures to record all that was to be seen on what was a really interesting walk into the depths of lands unknown and previously (well at least for the past three or four days) untrampled by human footage.

And here you can see the sheer scale of the world through which we walked, for how small my fellow walkers now appear (bottom right in case you can’t see them) and how big were the bushes in this strange world to which we had entered.

But then forsooth, there was space and a glimpse of land between the tree people (for trees really are people, you know, although that is commonly denied by townsfolk) as they stretched their way to the sky branching out in all directions.

This was indeed a remarkable landscape and one that we were now able to witness without getting wet, which was quite a bonus I can tell you.

For ahead and above you can see the sky is now lighter still, although at this point our numbers rather curiously appear to have reduced somewhat.

But never fear for I am told that our leaders counted us all out and counted us all back again, so no mishaps occurred.

And here you might notice the space that we now had – once we had escaped the all-encompassing woodland on the earlier part of the walk.

And then, utterly amazingly, and beyond my wildest imaginations we found signs of human habitation among the woodland!

Perhaps not human habitation as we know it ourselves, but still signs of habitation with outbuildings, attachments and the remains of machinery all lurking behind the trees, as if to say, “Pass us by, do not dally herein, or if you do at your own risk be it.”

Or words to that effect.

And what did, I must admit, utterly bemuse me, is that where there is one house one quickly finds more!

I have in the past tried to find out how this happens; how indeed houses replicate… but it must be something of which no one will speak, because whenever I have asked the question, all I have got are dark looks, and faces turned away.

However of course, as ramblers we will have nothing with such matters and returned forthwith to the forest lands, this time walking uphill, having dutifully walked downhill before, marching on in a sturdy and forthright manner, not looking back but constantly focused on what is to come and what is ahead.

And indeed we were able to see signs of light ahead, out of reach for now but perhaps more within our grasp as we moved forth.

But there was a shock to come, and shock which shocked me to my very core, for just as I was walking up the hill, following in the steps of others, I found all had stopped to gaze at the most extraordinary sight.

It was… well I hesitate to say, and indeed know not….

It was, perhaps a gate, but on the gate were hanging the signs of an ancient and indeed lost civilisation that had clearly existed in days of yore and now had moved on.

Were these their last offerings to their gods?  Were they sacred relics?  Or were they the final possessions of members of the tribe who could go no further and like your correspondent and photographer were in danger of being left behind and abandoned as they undertook their sacred duty of recording the world?

We shall perchance never know.

Part the third follows anon, when the writer has regained his composure.