I had one of those terrible introspective moments yesterday.
I happened to be out driving and I pulled over into a lay-by to have some lunch (Ginsters chicken and bacon pasty and can of full-fat Coke class!).
I was just staring outside the window, looking at the grass verge and all the nettles and stingers and rubbish and how unwelcoming it all was.
Then I looked out to the road, where all the cars were going by, where the sun was shining, and it occurred to me that I was alone in this lay-by, no one knew I was there. Id chosen that spot on purpose, because I thought Id sooner sit in a nice rural spot for my lunch than a tarmacced car park with sales reps eating their, equally nutritious, lunch.
So I was looking out at the grass verge and how horrid and spiteful it was. Not from litter, to be fair; but from the weeds, briars and brambles that grew there.
And I got thinking why? Why do we go bushcrafting (or whatever you prefer to think of it as)? Why are we doing it? Is it an escape? Is it to embrace the natural world? Or an escape from the modern one?
I wasnt sure myself. Partly its a disenchantment with a bland, vacuous, homogenised world. Partly for adventure. Partly because Ive always spent time alone and when feeling psychologically alone I like to be physically alone. Partly for some other indefinable quality.
But the natural world is a hostile, unforgiving place. We tend to sentimentalise it and look upon it is as some kind of Eden. But it isnt and never was. It doesnt want us, but we want it.
Anyway, now Im rambling and just being a git.
So, why do we do it? (bushcrafting, that is, not ramble like a git. Although )
I happened to be out driving and I pulled over into a lay-by to have some lunch (Ginsters chicken and bacon pasty and can of full-fat Coke class!).
I was just staring outside the window, looking at the grass verge and all the nettles and stingers and rubbish and how unwelcoming it all was.
Then I looked out to the road, where all the cars were going by, where the sun was shining, and it occurred to me that I was alone in this lay-by, no one knew I was there. Id chosen that spot on purpose, because I thought Id sooner sit in a nice rural spot for my lunch than a tarmacced car park with sales reps eating their, equally nutritious, lunch.
So I was looking out at the grass verge and how horrid and spiteful it was. Not from litter, to be fair; but from the weeds, briars and brambles that grew there.
And I got thinking why? Why do we go bushcrafting (or whatever you prefer to think of it as)? Why are we doing it? Is it an escape? Is it to embrace the natural world? Or an escape from the modern one?
I wasnt sure myself. Partly its a disenchantment with a bland, vacuous, homogenised world. Partly for adventure. Partly because Ive always spent time alone and when feeling psychologically alone I like to be physically alone. Partly for some other indefinable quality.
But the natural world is a hostile, unforgiving place. We tend to sentimentalise it and look upon it is as some kind of Eden. But it isnt and never was. It doesnt want us, but we want it.
Anyway, now Im rambling and just being a git.
So, why do we do it? (bushcrafting, that is, not ramble like a git. Although )