Back in the darkness again
I had anticipated that the clock change would put an end to my evening bike rides. The cars on the Lincolnshire roads go too fast for my liking, and I know myself how poorly a cyclist stands out on a murky night when the driver has other things to pay attention to. After a few weeks spent stuck indoors in the hotel room I got itchy feet, and also worried about the weight gain that had to be directly due to the lack of exercise. I still couldn't face the prospect of joining a health club and dressing up in garish spandex or lycra to go and waggle strange bits of chrome steel and brushed aluminium about, so I pulled on my scruffy fleece top and ragged cords and stomped off into the night.
The orange streetlights ended after a few hundred yards to leave the footpath wandering off into the blackness. I had my flourescent jacket on to wake the cars up to my presence, and a small wind-up torch with ultra-bright LED's so that I could pick out details in the ground when the car headlights cast inky-black shadows ahead of me. It seemed strange that I should be able to see the least when there was the most light.
I became tired of the intermittent roar of tyres and the flickering lights and enforced pauses while I waited for them to pass. After a few hundred yards of jerky progress I saw a track to my left as more lights flashed by. I knew that it was a dead-end, running down between fields and past a sewage works to a field beside the river that flowed on to the village, but that meant I couldn't get lost. I set off in the darkness, ocassionally flicking on the torch to check what was in front of me.
After several minutes I realised that I could actually see things in the blackness; in fact nothing was really dark at all. Several patches even seemed to shimmer or glow with a whitish sheen, even though the moonless sky was completely covered by clouds. I put the torch back in my pocket and walked slowly down past the dark shapes of the fir trees around the sewage farm, across the soft grass of the field, and stood beside the slow-moving waters of the river. After a while the chill prompted me to get moving again, and I walked back up the track to the road, without any stumbles or mishaps. It was possible to see in the dark.
The next evening I decided to go much further afield. I hurried along the footpath to where a track branched off to ran for a couple of miles through woods to a different road, which then lead back to the hotel. Once again, as soon as I left the pavement behind I could put the torch back in my pocket and walk slowly but steadily through a strange faintly-glowing world. Sometimes the path ahead of me shone and twinkled, and at other times it was a black ribbon that stood out amidst the faint glows of leaves and twigs and grasses around it.
Up ahead of me I heard a single bark from a dog, and saw a brief flash of light, and the yellow loom of a flourescent jacket. As I got nearer the light swung off to the left. I looked up a side lane to see someone with a similar torch to mine picking their way uphill. I carried on away from them and the darkness fell again, and with it the faint shimmering glows and glitterings that we never see by day.
Somewhere, an owl hooted with a random pattern of pauses and calls. I listened for a reply, but it was singing to itself. The hedge-edged lane became a sandy footpath winding in and out of scrubby trees, mostly silver birch and hawthorn from what I remembered of my daylight rides along the route in the opposite direction to that in which I was now walking. The path now was discernable as the darkest of a selection of shades. I stopped once or twice to listen and glance back behind me. I felt strangely conspicuous wearing my yellow waistcoat with the silver reflective flashes, feeling that I must be glowing like a beacon in the predatory eyes that ought to be filling the night-time woods.
I reached the second road, and once again had to keep shielding my eyes from the glaring headlights as cars streaked past me. The gently glowing world had vanished with the rush and flash of our everyday world, but as I came into the orange glare of the village I found myself elated with the realisation that there was another world out there, waiting to be explored, needing nothing more than warm clothes and stout boots for access.
I am becoming a ghost.
The orange streetlights ended after a few hundred yards to leave the footpath wandering off into the blackness. I had my flourescent jacket on to wake the cars up to my presence, and a small wind-up torch with ultra-bright LED's so that I could pick out details in the ground when the car headlights cast inky-black shadows ahead of me. It seemed strange that I should be able to see the least when there was the most light.
I became tired of the intermittent roar of tyres and the flickering lights and enforced pauses while I waited for them to pass. After a few hundred yards of jerky progress I saw a track to my left as more lights flashed by. I knew that it was a dead-end, running down between fields and past a sewage works to a field beside the river that flowed on to the village, but that meant I couldn't get lost. I set off in the darkness, ocassionally flicking on the torch to check what was in front of me.
After several minutes I realised that I could actually see things in the blackness; in fact nothing was really dark at all. Several patches even seemed to shimmer or glow with a whitish sheen, even though the moonless sky was completely covered by clouds. I put the torch back in my pocket and walked slowly down past the dark shapes of the fir trees around the sewage farm, across the soft grass of the field, and stood beside the slow-moving waters of the river. After a while the chill prompted me to get moving again, and I walked back up the track to the road, without any stumbles or mishaps. It was possible to see in the dark.
The next evening I decided to go much further afield. I hurried along the footpath to where a track branched off to ran for a couple of miles through woods to a different road, which then lead back to the hotel. Once again, as soon as I left the pavement behind I could put the torch back in my pocket and walk slowly but steadily through a strange faintly-glowing world. Sometimes the path ahead of me shone and twinkled, and at other times it was a black ribbon that stood out amidst the faint glows of leaves and twigs and grasses around it.
Up ahead of me I heard a single bark from a dog, and saw a brief flash of light, and the yellow loom of a flourescent jacket. As I got nearer the light swung off to the left. I looked up a side lane to see someone with a similar torch to mine picking their way uphill. I carried on away from them and the darkness fell again, and with it the faint shimmering glows and glitterings that we never see by day.
Somewhere, an owl hooted with a random pattern of pauses and calls. I listened for a reply, but it was singing to itself. The hedge-edged lane became a sandy footpath winding in and out of scrubby trees, mostly silver birch and hawthorn from what I remembered of my daylight rides along the route in the opposite direction to that in which I was now walking. The path now was discernable as the darkest of a selection of shades. I stopped once or twice to listen and glance back behind me. I felt strangely conspicuous wearing my yellow waistcoat with the silver reflective flashes, feeling that I must be glowing like a beacon in the predatory eyes that ought to be filling the night-time woods.
I reached the second road, and once again had to keep shielding my eyes from the glaring headlights as cars streaked past me. The gently glowing world had vanished with the rush and flash of our everyday world, but as I came into the orange glare of the village I found myself elated with the realisation that there was another world out there, waiting to be explored, needing nothing more than warm clothes and stout boots for access.
I am becoming a ghost.
posted by Sopwith-Camel | 6:36 pm
2 Comments:
What an interesting post. I used to see very well in the darkness when I lived far away in countryside, but living in the city has made me just afraid of darkness. But on the other hand, this whole country is just black and dark now... Actually I have seen lots of Helsinkians using torches lately in the city. Although they might have been elves.
They probably were elves. We've been over-run with them ever since the EU regulations allowed free movement of creatures of the night across our frontiers.
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