MorseBlog

I few weeks ago we visited my brother-in-law and his partner. We always enjoy these visits and as they live near the Peak District and are keen hikers we inevitably hike some area of the Peak. This visit was no exception and they suggested Kinder Scout. The half dozen or so of regular readers will recall I wrote an essay on wilderness and perception of wilderness between t he UK and the USA. Part of that essay recalled the history of access to private land in the UK and Kinder Scout figures prominently in that history. Naturally I was excited to actually go there. We started the walk in Hayfield and walked a route alongside the Kinder reservoir, up to the ridge top, along the ridge and descended after reaching Kinder Scout. My brother-in-law has a passion for language and explained that scout is believed to derive from ' Kyndwr Scu t'  Anglo Saxon for water over the edge. There is a waterfall on the walk which it is supposed is where the name is derived from. It was a perfect...

In a previous post I contemplated the nature of wilderness and isolation. Having grown up in Flagstaff Arizona and having lived on the edge of the National Forest I had ready access to wilderness and isolation. I was a shy and introverted kid at the time. Tall and skinny, always with long hair. The awkwardness of those pre-teen years assuaged by the quiet forest, the sounds of wind in the ponderosa, the call of the Steller's Jay, that dry pine scent-filled air of northern Arizona. For hours after school and on weekends I wandered this patch of wood and knew every aspect of it. The place we buried our family dog. Where a skinned mountain lion was lying stiff, red-muscled in the grass, and then days later not a trace. Elk or deer stalked, then startled, bolting and bounding through the woods over the gray dead trees with their yellow pitch-striated knots. The hidden delicate vanilla smell of the ponderosa pine when a nose is pressed into its cracked bark.  On warm days the richer s...