My Ramblings
Posted: Sat Jul 13, 2019 7:50 pm
Prompted by the feeling that I needed to get out more, last summer I joined a walking group. My first outing with them was on a Wednesday evening; the walk was a stroll round the town where I live, as it happens. Their main outings are on Sundays; the Wednesday evening ones only take place during the summer. I continued to go on walks regularly for several months, right up to the end of the autumn; my enthusiasm waned as the weather got colder.
I didn’t consciously think about it, but I suppose I imagined a bunch of like-minded people just turning up at a prearranged location and setting forth on their ramble. It never occurred to me that such a seemingly straight-forward and simple activity would require as much effort to organise as it does. And all by a handful of people doing it out of pure altruism, gaining no reward other than the simple satisfaction of knowing that their efforts are enriching the lives of others.
The group has a monthly meeting where, presumably, they discus important issues and make weighty decisions. They have a Chair Person, Vice Chair, Treasurer, Walks Programme Co-ordinator, Footpaths Officer and several other officials with vaguer, but, undoubtedly, no less necessary roles. So clearly this is not a Mickey Mouse outfit, it is a serious and properly organised enterprise.
While I expected to derive a modest health benefit from taking part in the activities of the group, I was quite surprised to find that joining them also made me feel younger, and at sixty four years old that is not a benefit to be sniffed at. This was no doubt due in part to the exercise, but, more than that, I think it was because a good many of them are retired and older than I am. The principle of relativity in action.
Every walk has a walk leader, a job that entails much more than arriving first and striding off in front, assertively. The walk leader has to conceive the adventure; he or she must assemble in their mind a journey of discovery, or at least an excursion that isn’t likely to bore the pants off everyone. Next, the precise route must be planned; necessitating a “recky”, which is where the walk leader goes out, quite often with another group member, and does a boots on the ground dummy run. Thus are any potential problems and hazards identified and avoided in the final plan. How often, I wonder, have we carefree ramblers turned up on the day with nothing to think of but a pleasant day’s meander through the English countryside, completely oblivious of the extra large muddy puddles and steep embankments our leader has beforehand suffered so that we don’t have to.
While the walk leader is out in front, blazing the trail, at the very back is the man... at the very back. He has probably got a title but I don’t know what it is, possibly the tail man. His job is mainly to ensure that the stragglers don’t take a wrong turn and get lost; his secondary role being to mop up any casualties. It is surprising how many people, particularly the older ones, slip head over heels on the mud, or trip up over a tree root or discarded soft drink can. Although any serious injury is usually confined to the dignity of the person involved. I have never actually witnessed such an occurrence myself, but that is probably my own fault for not hanging far enough back; perhaps I should volunteer to be the “tail man”.
We have our own web site. With a few mouse clicks I know where the next walk will take place, how long the walk will be, and whether or not it is dog friendly. We also have a self appointed group photographer who covers twice the distance of everyone else through repeatedly running up and down the line of walkers taking shots. I am amazed by his energy, I don’t know how old he is but I believe he’s been retired for ten years. The results of his vigourous enthusiasm appear on the web site a few days later, he’s quite artistic, actually.
I could go on forever singing the praises of these self sacrificing people who go to so much trouble just so I can have a pleasant day out. I certainly wouldn’t go to that much trouble for them.
I didn’t consciously think about it, but I suppose I imagined a bunch of like-minded people just turning up at a prearranged location and setting forth on their ramble. It never occurred to me that such a seemingly straight-forward and simple activity would require as much effort to organise as it does. And all by a handful of people doing it out of pure altruism, gaining no reward other than the simple satisfaction of knowing that their efforts are enriching the lives of others.
The group has a monthly meeting where, presumably, they discus important issues and make weighty decisions. They have a Chair Person, Vice Chair, Treasurer, Walks Programme Co-ordinator, Footpaths Officer and several other officials with vaguer, but, undoubtedly, no less necessary roles. So clearly this is not a Mickey Mouse outfit, it is a serious and properly organised enterprise.
While I expected to derive a modest health benefit from taking part in the activities of the group, I was quite surprised to find that joining them also made me feel younger, and at sixty four years old that is not a benefit to be sniffed at. This was no doubt due in part to the exercise, but, more than that, I think it was because a good many of them are retired and older than I am. The principle of relativity in action.
Every walk has a walk leader, a job that entails much more than arriving first and striding off in front, assertively. The walk leader has to conceive the adventure; he or she must assemble in their mind a journey of discovery, or at least an excursion that isn’t likely to bore the pants off everyone. Next, the precise route must be planned; necessitating a “recky”, which is where the walk leader goes out, quite often with another group member, and does a boots on the ground dummy run. Thus are any potential problems and hazards identified and avoided in the final plan. How often, I wonder, have we carefree ramblers turned up on the day with nothing to think of but a pleasant day’s meander through the English countryside, completely oblivious of the extra large muddy puddles and steep embankments our leader has beforehand suffered so that we don’t have to.
While the walk leader is out in front, blazing the trail, at the very back is the man... at the very back. He has probably got a title but I don’t know what it is, possibly the tail man. His job is mainly to ensure that the stragglers don’t take a wrong turn and get lost; his secondary role being to mop up any casualties. It is surprising how many people, particularly the older ones, slip head over heels on the mud, or trip up over a tree root or discarded soft drink can. Although any serious injury is usually confined to the dignity of the person involved. I have never actually witnessed such an occurrence myself, but that is probably my own fault for not hanging far enough back; perhaps I should volunteer to be the “tail man”.
We have our own web site. With a few mouse clicks I know where the next walk will take place, how long the walk will be, and whether or not it is dog friendly. We also have a self appointed group photographer who covers twice the distance of everyone else through repeatedly running up and down the line of walkers taking shots. I am amazed by his energy, I don’t know how old he is but I believe he’s been retired for ten years. The results of his vigourous enthusiasm appear on the web site a few days later, he’s quite artistic, actually.
I could go on forever singing the praises of these self sacrificing people who go to so much trouble just so I can have a pleasant day out. I certainly wouldn’t go to that much trouble for them.