Allysse went in search of darkness in London:
Standing below the bridge, I could see the same emptiness as before filling the space under the trees. I smiled. For a while now, night-time had come to feel safe and almost alluring but it didn’t use to be this way. As a child, I could barely go to the end of my street for fear a wolf would attack me. This was ridiculous and I knew it, but I couldn’t help being overwhelmed with dread. I would often try to fight this feeling, forcing my legs to slow down and not break into a run, but I would inevitably lose. For almost a year, I have been wild camping every month and have come to know the world after sunset. There is nothing to fear from it, not in Britain anyway. I took a step forward and advanced towards the trees. Colours faded almost instantly into shades of grey, their nuances deepening as my eyes adjusted to the low light.
Read more about her adventure on Beste Glatisant.
Clare and family
Clare (Muddy Mum) went on a geocaching adventure:
The instructions on the bucket inform us that we must attach the rope to the hook in the rock. Then follow it until it runs out! Oh my! It’s now or never, so in we go [...] Once all inside we take a moment to adjust to the darkness. It’s surprisingly spacious. We begin to follow the rope. However we make it no further than 50m before we realise the previous users hadn’t returned the rope quite right. We have one almighty tangle of rope on our hands.
Let’s get this into context. We are deep under the hillside. In pitch black darkness, my hands shredded from my elegant glide down the hillside and I’m untangling 150m of soaking wet, mud covered rope. Marvellous!
Read more about their adventure on Mud and Nettles.
Jonathan and Dan
We went out for dinner - really out:
It was strange to walk in a familiar place at night. Time felt stretchy. The last leaves of autumn hung stark and silhouetted in the white moonlight. We peered down a few of the unofficial, narrow trails that slip off the wide main track and wind deeper into the woods, but we didn’t follow them - the moonshadows made our familiar path strange enough already [...] At a handy bench, we set up our stove and cooked our tea. It was fun to sit quietly with the faint blue glow of gas and the sizzle of mushrooms to keep us company. Although our scrambled egg and mushroom rolls weren’t the most gourmet of meals, we both agreed they tasted better out here than they would have tasted at home.
Read about our microadventure on (you guessed it) In Which I.
Gillian sought out shooting stars:
I went out over a few nights to try and spot the Orionid meteor shower. The peak was on 22nd October and they should have been visible for several days before and after, but the weather wasn't with me this year. I sat out in the garden in my camp chair, flask of coffee in hand, gazing upward at a blanket of cloud. Owls hooted, gull spectres circled and as I wished for a small window of blackness to clear and reveal the fiery trail of a shooting star ==---☆ But the rain set in. So, I planned to make a little Vine video using black card with pin picks to allow light from my computer screen to shine through. I drew it out in my notebook and everything, but I haven't had time to make it . . . Afraid, much like the Orionid themselves, it's a no-show!
Nyctophilia (n) An attraction to darkness or night; finding relaxation or comfort in the darkness:
Autumn has arrived. Trees that only a few weeks ago were leafy and resplendent now stand naked and bare. That joyful indulgence of kicking my way way through the leafy carpet of crunchy golden leaves. At times I find myself spellbound by the rich reds and autumnal hues that surround me.
Read more on With Each New Day.
Dan and I went for a two day walk from Bishop's Stortford to Great Chesterford, crossing the Hertfordshire/Essex border. The autumn colours were beautiful, with clusters of red rowan berries and so many leaves. Is it just me, or are the colours brighter than last year? We walked along a straight Roman road for a few miles, a bridleway lined with sycamore or perhaps field maple trees. It was a tunnel of yellow and orange - a welcome stretch of brightness in the dull, drizzly day. We slept under our tarp in the pouring rain in a little wood, where we heard an array of interesting nighttime noises: hooting owls, honking geese, snuffling mammals and a variety of weird barks and cries that we decided to attribute to foxes.
November microadventure theme: weather the weather
I know there have been some exciting storms in Australia and rain almost washed out the Lewes bonfire night in the UK this week. Some parts of the southern hemisphere are getting hot, while some parts of the northern hemisphere are getting rather chilly.
Whatever the weather, you can go microadventuring. In fact, why not make the weather a feature? Splash in puddles, go somewhere high to see the clear horizon, make a sundial, get lost in the mist, dance in the rain, cycle in a headwind, try a seasonal sport, navigate by the sun, crunch frosty grass underfoot, climb a tree in the wind. (But stay safe!) Perhaps you could extend the weather theme to seasonal interest or climate change more generally: document wildflowers or the effects of drought, visit a U-shaped glacial valley, explore an area regenerating after a bushfire, find out where the sea levels will rise to by the end of the century and walk along the projected shore line.
I look forward to hearing about your cloudy, hot, windy, foggy, dry, freezing, wet and/or snowy adventures!