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Day 7 Walk 7 Leave home 06.56 late again!
Wednesday 11th MarMusic Xavier Rudd Follow the Sun. Gentle .
It’s very still and the air is quite warm, well warm ish. As I turn down to the sea front a laundry delivery van reverses down the road.
The sea too is still. I get going, the skeleton is aligned - nice.
As I get to the white wall a young person has positioned a sun lounger right across the walkway, which at this point is protected on the beach side by an a mound of bushy scrub plants, . He is sound asleep huddled underneath a beach towel. There is a waft of urine. I pass around the lounger and head on my way .At the next section I see Somali man heading down the beach away from me but coming towards him and towards me is Māori man. Goodness we all meet up! Except we are all totally in our own zones. They have no idea that they even have a place in my daily diary.
Thats my secret. Ha. Nice.
As I get to my favourite curve in the beach, the part that looked so smart yesterday, today the the tide is higher and the seaweed is wet and there is that smell that is so identifiable coming up on my right, it collides with a wonderful waft of freshly baked bread coming down from the bakery, thats a first I haven’t smelt that before.
I get down to the port heading towards my fish. On the pavement on the left , ahead of me something dark grey and lifeless is lying beside the pavement, it’s a dead rat. Time was I would have screamed the place down but I just looked at it and instead wondered how it had died. It wasn’t squashed and it wasn’t lying on its back, it looked like it had just come to a stop mid scuttle. Hope I can do that.
I reach my fish and turn around, as I head back towards the corpse a young man is heading towards the rat and he kindly points it out to me - yes, thank you, a dead rat.
The sky is cool grey with a pale cream slash across the horizon, the cloud is all one and still, the sea and the atmosphere is lazy today there is hardly any movement, the few waves that there are are further out and are long, with a gentle roll rather than a crash. “Mare lungo.” ( Italian)
As I arrive nearer home the sun starts to show its first burning glow and for about 5 minutes there is a small promise of a nice day. It didn’t last and the orange ball moved upwards through the Venetian blind slats of cloud and disappeared into the pale grey blanket of cloud and as yet hasn’t reappeared . I turn right off the beach and walk up the short stretch of road towards the front of the house.
Randomly I think about being hugged. My husband and I hugged each other until the end of his lost, confused and muddled life. As a family we hug. I feel a profound ache walk across my chest. I’m missing you all.
Day 6 Walk 6 Leave home 06.37
Tuesday 10th MarMy skeleton is definitely not aligned. Pelvis, knee and an ankle. Grrr. Hopefully as I get going things will line up. The moon is fuzzy, the air very still and warm but I feel a cool breeze on my index fingers. The music for today is Kovacs , “Underground. “
There is a lot of life noise in my head. I guess it was inevitable that the real world would catch up .
A few minutes in I realise I haven’t washed my teeth. I forget about it.
It’s really dark , no pink horizon no light in the sky at all, I wonder if that means it’s going to be bad weather. As I walk along a sandy stretch of beach I catch sight of my shadow reflected twice on a white wall. It doesn’t look 74. ( smile).
Against the darkness I notice a white shawl gliding towards me along the beach then as it gets nearer Somali man materialises , of course he is not Somali man, he’s is most likely Moroccan . He is too far away to acknowledge and it’s still so dark we each carry on in our individual silent spaces.
I pick up the beach walk again and as I look down at the palisade boards , two parallel lines of what look like sequins shine in the dampness , reflecting the light from the beach lights , looking closer it turns out they are neat rows of Philip screw heads.
Private chuckle.
It’s very quiet this morning, the space around me feels like I’m walking in the air , almost like I am air, no edges, like an egg thats lost its shell. I’m consciously keeping my mind in the present , focusing on surroundings, senses and sensations.
I reach the port as Māori man and dog arrive, they are late, ha! He is Spanish.” I say Óla.”That salutation has taken 5 days. He barely responds.
Along the port quayside there are large decorative fish mounted on plinths about my shoulder height, spaced about 3 meters apart they are placed near the entrance gates to the private moorings, I have chosen a blue grey one to be my turning point. I secretly say good morning to it and turn.
As I turn and look towards the horizon there are a couple of flame coloured streaks along the horizon. It definitely feels warm now and for the first time since starting these walks I consider taking off my lightweight jacket , I don’t. The warmth is nice. I stop on the blue slatted bench and meditate with my eyes open soft focusing on the seascape. There is a bird that makes a kind of laughing noise. I will see if I can google it. Colours are spreading across the sea now, it’s magical. I wonder when was the last time president Trump stood and watched a sunrise . It makes you feel so small, a blip in Mother Nature. Hmm.
I get up and continue, by the time I have gone on for a couple of minutes the whole colour scheme has changed , the horizontal flash of fire on the horizon has completely disappeared , it’s magical like a performer doing a quick change in the wings during a performance. The rocks are a deep glistening jet black , the sea a warm light gray the horizon a very gentle warm pale yellow which almost imperceptibly seeps into reflections in the water and in the sand pools which in turn blend into the off white coral particles which are washed up on the shores here, it all contributes to the image of something that is perfectly turned out , immaculate. This spot is a favourite spot that I stop at every morning. The tide is out leaving the sand in wet ripples which catch the light individually. If all these colours were fabric for an outfit they have been perfectly selected, the outfit is impeccable. I think of Issey Miyake.
By the time I get near home there is a fine orange line along the horizon it’s like a burning hot silk thread edging a cloud , it continues to spread.
It’s going to be a warm day.
Somewhere along the sea front I’ve parked my brain clutter . The skeleton is( almost) back in alignment, hopefully nothing a good heat cream won’t cure. Let’s see what Mr P has to say when I see him in March.
This place. This walk that came from nowhere ( well not quite nowhere) is going to be hard to leave behind. But I don’t have to think about that now.
Day 5 Walk 5 Leave home 6.37
Tuesday 10th MarMusic: Walk me home. P!nk
The moon has a soft focus fuzziness. The air is very damp, the atmosphere is dull, after yesterday, which was a truly wet and cold day today feels ambivalent. I get to the beach, the start of the dawn colours are exceptional. The horizon sky is dark with this beautiful streak of dawn creeping across it. What do they say “ red sky in the morning……” I hope not I would struggle with another day like yesterday. I reach the port, I’ve passed Māori man and two young women, one of them is wearing a perfume, the density of it is so clawing in the pure sea air, apart from these guys it’s deserted. It feels an uneventful morning.
I walk past not just one but two puddles of vomit! And yes, carrot and tomato in both.
I stop to watch the sun come up but by now there are dark clouds along the horizon. I go inside.
Day 4 Walk 4 Leave home LATE 7.24
Monday 9th MarRight away everything feels different. Dawn has already passed, I get to the sunrise point and watch the sunrise . It’s far too busy, the walkers and swimmers are out. I’ve missed my moment of solitude. I pass Māori man and his dog already down my end of the beach . Because it’s daylight I see that the dog has one sinister eye , it’s white but has a small black pupil. It makes me smile inwardly. It’s a very different feel today, the temperature is warm there is a gentle breeze, I get down to the port and decide to turn around. Coming towards me is a man in his 40’s - maybe ? tanned - fit- cool looking.. He is looking at me straight in the eye , he stops abruptly and, from a distance of about 4 feet away, bends forwards and vomits! Yes, that actually happened. I didn’t stop, just carried on walking.
Is that ok?
Don’t answer.
My body was actually struggling a bit today. Yesterday afternoon I had gone down to the beach and turned right instead of left to go for a wander. It was a mistake, there isn’t a walk way and I was walking on soft sand. It took me years to learn that I can only walk down a beach with my left leg on the shore side. ( it’s a skeleton issue ) When I got to the part where I noticed it was causing me problems I had already passed the point of no return ,I had a choice to go forward or back. I decided to continue forward and get to the tarmac road. It was an easier walk back on the pavement . I totalled another 16000 + steps . My leg and (dam it) my good knee where both in trouble this morning.
Again as I walked along a random thought a came into my head. If I hadn’t had “my leg” I definitely would have had a wet suit and a surf board . I also would have played tennis. And danced , I would I have danced a lot. But this walk has become like dancing, if you are transparent, just air and music , iPods and Spotify , P!nk and the rest of my playlist team .
Mate, I’m dancing.
But then maybe I wouldn’t have started painting, I would never have met Steve Cannon , the great “Mr C.” As I refer to him, or Sarah who is totally responsible for so much happiness , or Rosemary, who has been there for me , again and again. I might never have had the joy that all the connections with fund raising for the RNOH. I might not have started painting, a move which brought a completely unexpected direction to my life.
My mantra has always been “ open the next door”.
Day 3. Walk 3. Leave home 6.43
Monday 9th MarThis morning it’s really dark.I am greeted by the sharpest full moon staring right at me as if it is there just for me. There is no one about. The air too is sharp, cold and crisp, edgy , no wind at all. Just me in the air.
I’m discovering that when clutter goes from my mind , the constant imagined conversations stop and I’m just here, in the moment, unusual things come to mind. I have realised no one will ever again call me Bimba. That thought which just hadn’t occurred to me since my husband died, now just pops into my head. “Bimba” that name belonged to me alone , with love from him.
Hmm. My eyes prickle.
Another thought , and I have no idea where this phrase has come from but it just popped into the space, it describes exactly the emotions around my grief. ( I ve cut this - too private)
It’s like that, we were by each others side for 50 years and 3 months. We loved each other. Love is not always a fluffy feeling is it? It can be brutal. These last few years were brutal from the top down.
I start to meet the usual early morning people. There is a tall elegant ( possibly) Somali gentleman dressed in a long caftan and a pill box hat he moves like he is gliding , we exchange an infinitesimal nod, or maybe I imagined that, and pass each other. There is a very large man, large in all directions I nickname him Maori-man, he has a small black dog which is clearly of multi racial descent. We ignore each other. There is a couple sitting on the steps down to the sandy beach , I think they haven’t been to bed yet.
For the first time on my walks the sky is completely clear, there are stars . When I get to the port dawn is turning the skyline into a gentle pink, orange , yellow, prism colours. The lights from the boats playing on the water like Christmas glitter.
I thought it was sunrise but that didn’t happen for another 3/4 of an hour. It was much lighter and the big orange sun came up , it felt warm. I take my time to get back to the house I feel a genuine reluctance to go indoors.
I can’t believe my legs are letting me walk so much, the last two days the step counter has registered 19,000 and 16,000. Thats insane .
It’s a beautiful day clear blue sky. The spirit level is even.
Day 2 Walk 2 Leave home 06.35
Sunday 8th Mar I hope that I’ll catch the sunrise. The beat of the playlist Spotify has chosen for me is more gentle this morning , pensive. I decide to tone down and go with it. The breeze is warm and damp with drizzle ( again? didn’t they get the memo? This is a winter sunshine holiday?)
Again the peaceful acceptance of solitude is repeated. The nearer I get to the port so I start to meet other walkers.
Couples.
Hm . Thats a twinge of pain, but then my cruel thoughts tell me one or other of that happy pair , if they are lucky enough to love each other , will at some point experience my pain, the void.
As my bestie once told me “ no happy marriage ends happily.”
I sit on a blue slatted bench facing the sea ( this is a halfway point) and do some eyes open meditation practice, literally just being in the moment. Letting the brain go still, stopping completely, just the breath and my senses taking in this moment. The constant conversation in my head shutting down for a few moments.
Task for the holiday: lengthen the time I can keep in the moment .
I get back home at 7.53 , the clouds are heavy . I feel happy, quietly happy, the bubbles are just gently rising to the surface. It feels real, why wouldn’t it? It’s just me and nature.
Day 2: PM .
An add in.
The view from the upstairs terrace is of Lanzarote in the distance, the slopes of the island hills, normally a dark volcanic brown are , due to the unusual amount of rainfall , a soft moss green, lengths of cloud shadow slide across the slopes a moving reflection. . Lines of white streaked about, which are urbanisations, the Artist César Manrique made it his fundamental ambition to oppose the construction of high rise building on the island. Anyway thats by the by. Between Lanzarote and the shore beneath my terrace is stretch of sea, rough enough for windsurfers, surfers and hydrofoils . It’s like watching jokey splotches of colour dancing on the waves. I’m so envious.
It’s chilly now and I’m feeling the damp moisture in the air getting into my clothes.
Day 1 Walk 1
Sunday 8th Mar
