We have slipped into April. I can’t help but reflect on this passage of time. Three months of 2026 have gone by without me hardly breaking out of the bubble that is Longridge town. I have slowly and reluctantly adapted the word ‘town’ to the ‘village’ that I have known for over fifty years.
Three months of my life drifted away.
Plodding one-armed around the village every day, I’m one of the lucky ones; friends are falling away with dementia and other terminal illnesses. Today I come home with delicious curries from Rabia. I chat to acquaintances, which does make it feel like a village once more; we all have our grumbles.
I am so grateful to friends who have driven me to fresh scenery. But today I’m back to the familiar with a Walk with my Ears, this week’s project. I want to be away from people and noisy streets; I want to be able to close my eyes and focus on the auditory, away from the visible. I will take Merlin with me. I choose a route into what I hope will be open countryside, not far from home. I slip by the farm shop, nursery and cafe; agricultural diversification. Once in the fields, I switch to auditory mode, but I still pick up distant traffic noise. Deeper into the countryside, the sound of agricultural machinery intrudes. This is not what I expected: a sharp dose of reality.
I stop and listen, but the birdsong and rustles of vegetation nearby are diluted by human activity. Frustated, I carry on and come out onto the lane heading up the steep Birks Brow, where at last the background noise is absent. I stop once again and hear robins, blackbirds, carrion crows, bleating lambs and buzzing bees. My attempt to record it is interrupted by a passing car.
Time to accept that I now live in a noisy semi-urban environment. Imagine walking with your ears in the middle of Manchester, would you hear their bees? One realises the value of relatively inaccessible places, where I usually find myself. The world is becoming increasingly fragile. I wander home through the noisy streets, reflecting that my desired utopia is out of reach at present.
On and on …
*
Tomorrow I have a plan: catch the bus to Knowle Green and walk back over the fell tracks, hopefully with no awkward stiles that would turn me back, or worse. I’m searching for a quieter environment.
It didn’t happen, I had forgotten about Easter with a reduced bus service – and it rained.
I’d forgotten about Easter too. You remind me also how hard it is to find somewhere undisturbed by human noise. I hope you manage to reschedule your walk from Knowle Green.
I’m sure Darnbrook Fell was a human-sound-free oasis, but if you used Merlin, how many birds did you hear? Our intensive agricultural and shooting practises have decimated the upland bird populations.
Not many birds counted for sure. Startled a lone grouse, but coming down to the car, late afternoon, there was a curlew. Other than that just the wind in the heather.
As more and more houses are built on areas which are supposed to be green belt getting away from urban noise is becoming harder. That’s why I like walking along canals, countryside in the middle of nowhere is usually peaceful unless you count the odd bleat or moo here and there.
As you know I would normally be in wilder places but I’m still in a sling for another week.
Just seen your post on Manchester Cathedral _ looks amazing.
It was, the colours were stunning.
I empathise your wtih you and your bout of cabin fever. I’ve done my share. Motivated by your mention of Merlin I just stood outside my front door for about three minutes by which time, as I was not dressed in warm clothing, I was beginning to freeze. I recorded Blackbird, Robin, Dunnock, Siskin.
More than your fair share of cabin fever.
Being on the edge of fields, only just, I get a higher bird count but never see most of them.
Just catching up BC. You may not have been out much but your writing arm seems to have been busy.
We are just back from a family break at Center Parcs Whin Fell (Penrith). I turned on Merlin for half an hour in the woodland there and it logged over 20 different calls, ranging from Oyster Catcher to Goldcrest. Surprisingly no woodpeckers.
Happy Easter
M
Cheers Martin.
Shoulder ‘progressing’ slowly. Still not driving.
That is an impressive list but it is we’ll wooded up there.
Hello Bowland Climber. We too, have the good fortune to live in Longridge. Your stories of making the most our surroundings, even with one arm in a sling, are a joy for those of us whose daylight hours are in front of a computer screen. Maybe we have passed each other on Berry Lane, with a cheerful “Good morning” to each other? Long may your adventures continue.
Thanks for breaking off the work’s screen and commenting, Olli.
I’ll be out there tomorrow.
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