I love the A. A. Milne poem ‘Halfway down’ which reflects on the stairs as a spot to sit and think when you are a small child. I still occasionally like to sit halfway down the stairs. When I was in my late teens, I was given a copy of J R R Tolkien: Artist and Illustrator. I spent hours poring over that book. Tolkien had a book of sketches he called ‘The Book of Ishness’ in which he tried to depict abstract concepts he called ‘ishnesses’.
I had recently started my own sketchbook - I still have it - and I experimented with the concept of ‘ishness’. One of the ‘ishnesses’ I doodled was ‘in-betweenishness’. I associate that feeling particularly with a time when I’d just finished my A-Levels, and with the long summer vacations during my undergraduate degree (particularly the ones where I wasn’t able to find a summer job).
As an adult the in-between spaces of life often close up, and our space and time for imagining and dreaming does too. That is partly because adult life is often very busy with one thing or another. In fact, since those long summer vacations in the mid-2000s, I can’t remember a time in my life lasting more than a few weeks when I haven’t had to work, study, or in some way fill my time with life admin or chores, so I look back on the ‘in-betweenishness’ with nostalgia now.
I tend to assume my creativity is stimulated most by bright and beautiful things: sunsets, blooming flowers, travel to new places. Paradoxically, my creativity can also be stimulated by difficulties, even trauma. But I tend to forget that my creativity is most stimulated by calm, a lack of things to do, ‘free time’. By boredom, in fact.
Exeter Ship Canal
When asked recently to think of a time when I had felt at peace, what sprung to mind was both a landscape and a specific time: a long walk down the Exeter Ship Canal in the midwinter days of December 2020. Our usual Christmas was rather truncated, and that left more unfilled days either side. Moreover, those were unfilled days in a time which had more unfilled days than most times. The pandemic was difficult for so many reasons, but I do vaguely miss that there seemed to be more time for long walks. Some with company, some without - both sorts were good in their own way.
It was cold that day, but there was no frost or snow, and it wasn’t raining thankfully - the weather was just overcast and a bit non-descript. I started my walk near my house, went down to the quayside and crossed over to the Ship Canal. About twenty minutes in, I came to The Double Locks, a big pub which is bustling in summer. To the right and left of the canal at Double Locks are meadows and fields (the land is used to graze sheep and cattle), so it begins to feel more like the countryside than an urban green space. After a while, I crossed over a main road via a bridge and then continued on the path down the canal. That’s the only road I crossed on this walk, but both the canal and the path run underneath the M5 motorway. You would think that being under a motorway would be incredibly noisy, but in fact I’ve find this to be a strangely peaceful spot and here I stopped to have a cup of tea from my flask. The land around the path consists of reedbeds and meadows which flood in winter. Once, I even saw a swan floating past, apparently unaware of the thousands of cars, vans and lorries passing above.
The Exe Estuary
Around this point you can see lots of reedbeds on the left hand side, and beyond that Topsham comes into view. Next to the canal, there’s a lockkeeper’s cottage (derelict, last time I checked). From here there’s a good view of Topsham. It’s possible to catch a ferry, if there is one, to Topsham from here, but during lockdown the ferry didn’t run. I walked down to near the end of the slipway (taking care, as it is slippery) so that I could immerse myself in the estuary landscape. The reedbeds rustle beautifully in the breeze.
The Exe Estuary has several RSPB reserves, including one on the right of the Ship Canal (Exminster and Powderham Marshes). On that midwinter day, you could see hundreds or maybe thousands of geese in the marshes. On the right hand side, I could see Powderham Castle in the distance. The estuary widens out towards Exmouth on one side, and Starcross and Dawlish on the other.
I continued down the path until I reached the series of little boats and saw another pub come into view, ‘The Turf Hotel’. This is perched right at the end of the Ship Canal where the canal really meets the estuary.
The end of the line
There’s a bench by Turf Hotel, so although the pub was closed (it closes every winter) I sat down there and enjoyed looking out at the estuary, even though due to the mist you couldn’t see much at all that day. I decided to walk a little further down the estuary towards Starcross before heading back. I remember that I hadn’t seen a kingfisher for ages, but one appeared right there, at the edge of the estuary, just in front of me. I’m always surpised to see them so far down the river.
In non-lockdown times you could walk on to Starcross and get a bus or a train back to Exeter from there, but back in December 2020 the obvious option was to walk back the way I had come. The light was beginning to fade; I remember seeing the hedgerows covered in fieldfares, thrushes and redwings feasting on the crop of bright red hawthorn berries. I really wanted to get a good photo of this, but every time I drew close enough they would fly on to the next hedge, so eventually I gave in and just enjoyed watching them instead.
Estuaryishness…
That was the strange thing about that walk. It was grey, muddy, a bit cold, there wasn’t enough light for decent photos, I didn’t see anything particularly spectacular or do anything very exciting. Bleak and drab can be aesthetic in their own way (though not everyone would agree) - so probably there is some beauty in these deep winter days.
Returning home I felt really contented, almost blissful. I still remember now how peaceful I felt, and how atmospheric that walk was for me, but I can’t entirely put my finger on why that was the case… except that I’ve come to realise that walking - any walking - is really good for me mentally, that walks in winter are actually even more rewarding than walks in spring and summer, that estuary walks in particular give me a sense of space and peace.
I love estuary landscapes because of the experience of space around them: even though there’s land on the other side, you’re greeted by huge, wide horizons and know there’s the expanse of the sea beyond that. There’s none of the elemental quality that the sea can bring, but something much calmer - there are no rushing waves here. I love the way estuaries smell - a blend of the salty smell of the sea, fresh country air, a slightly muddy smell. I love the sounds too - there’s a special silence in estuary landscapes, filled only with the lapping sound of gentle waves against the shores, the dull clanking sound of rigging on the boats or the call of the wading birds, especially curlews. I remember we went down to Topsham at night once, and faced out towards the estuary, and you couldn’t see anything in the dark, but the smell and the sounds told you exactly where you were.
I think estuaries help provide that same feeling of ‘inbetweenishness’ that I rarely have space or time for in my life. Midwinter feels like an excuse to hibernate and take things slowly, even though in reality December can be so busy. That walk, which brought these two things together, has come to symbolise for me that blank space, the spot halfway down the stairs, that I needed then and often desire: time to think, time to ‘not think’, time to just be.
Winter Walks, a postscript
I wanted to add a few practical thoughts for those who’d like to get out more in winter:
Everything can seem grey and brown, but look for colour in lichen, berries and the last leaves of autumn (oaks and beeches cling on to their leaves the longest, due to something called marcescence).
If there is not much colour, focus on silhouettes and shapes: alder trees look sculpted with their cones; the black lace silhouette of birch branches against a winter sky is a sort of midwinter gothic; seedheads of all sorts provide interest…
Winter is a great time for spotting birds. Estuaries are host to lots of winter migrating waders, but even garden birds are easier to see because there are no leaves on the trees. Robins are plentiful and easy to spot. Song thrushes, fieldfares and redwings are winter visitors, so enjoy them while they are here.
Maximise the light by walking near water such as canals, lakes or a river. This is good for reflections if you like taking photos and water is generally thought to be calming.
Take a hot drink in a flask or a keep cup. If you pack a snack too, then you’ve made even a dull winter’s day into a picnic.
Worst case scenario is, the indoors always seems more cosy after a winter walk, and your cup of tea will taste better too, trust me. Well done for going out at all!