Walking with Fay and Ted - a touch of writer's block on a writer's retreat in Yorkshire

Poetry by Ted Hughes and photography by Fay Godwin

I wanted to get away. Somewhere different. To see some new scenery.

Somewhere with hills.

So where better that Lumb Bank, for a writer's retreat with the Arvon Foundation. Five days of peace. To write.

Or not, as the case may be.

Lumb Bank, Yorkshire

Lumb bank is the former home of Ted Hughes, the poet. His wife, Sylvia Plath is buried in the graveyard just up the road. Fay Godwin, the legendary landscape photographer, and Ted Hughes created a book together 'Remains of Elmet'. Ted Hughes wrote poems in response to photographs by Fay Godwin.

I found the book in the library and was taken by the words and images describing the local landscape.

I felt sure I would find inspiration here.

With a view like this what could go wrong?

The view from Lumb Bank garden

My fellow companions were writers in ernest.

Autofiction, a comic travel novel, a wellness book and the story of a goldfish on adventures in the Gulf of Mexico were all being worked upon seriously and diligently.

I felt a fraud. I was really there for the scenery.
I tried to write.

I really did.

I wrote some 'morning pages' every day before so much as  a cup of tea passed my lips.

I wrote some 'breakfast pages' too. Mainly about how I was not really enjoying breakfast 'in my room'. Something to do with covid...... and featuring a banana and a soggy croissant wrapped in plastic.

After recording my daily temperature......taken by me, myself and I, I set to work.

covid daily temperature chart

I sat at my tiny writing table with its puritanical hard wood chair, and tried to write.

a writing table

If in doubt. Go for a walk. That is my motto.

Something always comes from walking, even if it is just a calmer frame of mind.

So I loaded up my OS map onto my phone, and away I went.

Up hill and down dale. Along the Rochdale canal and up onto the moor.

up on the moor, following the Pennine Way

I talked to cows and sheep.

Stepped in bog.

Walked by lush, peaty rivers.

moorland sheep

---

ancient stone path

I strolled by the Rochdale canal.

towpath, Rochdale canal, with dog.

back yards beside the rochdale canal

Rochdale Canal

And then, when I was completely exhausted, I tried to write.

I learned a lot about writer's block. I read self help books for writers.
I felt frustrated.
I went for more walks.

I got my typewriter out.

Olympia Splendid typewriter

Eventually I gave up trying and instead made a book about writer's block. The cutting, typing and sewing were very therapeutic.

artist book - writer's block

Having completed that, I allowed myself to give up trying to write, and to spend my remaining day beside the river, in the damp beech forest, and watching cherry blossom drift by on the Rochdale Canal.




There is a moral to this tale......

Creativity cannot be forced...... it comes when it is ready, and while I can work at it daily, first and foremost I need to feed my soul .

I had a wonderful time. And if nothing more comes of it, then at least I am refreshed and ready for my next adventure.

wild garlic and beeches

'

In wild places

I went on a ‘writer’s retreat’.
To Hebden Bridge; the home of Ted Hughes.

But really, all that I wanted to do was to see some hills and green fields,
running water and moors.

To step out in a different landscape,
climb on boggy paths and feel the wind on my face.

I needed to walk beside rivers and streams;
to leave my footprints once more upon the Pennine Way.

I didn’t write.
No words came.

Instead I walked
and walked,
and walked some more.

There, in those wild places,
I was reunited
with my true self.

 

The shape of water and some other good things in Wales.

 

I am back in Wales. In the tiny village of Y Ferwig at Createspace Wales. 

Feeling very lucky to be here, keeping cool while the south east swelters.

Trying to think positively while all around me the world struggles with Covid-19.

Finding it hard.

So this morning I typed a list of positive words about this place. Things to be grateful for.

One of the traits of resilient people is to be able to identify good things around them, however small. 

 

I found this  TED talk about resilience a helpful reminder of how to keep going when the going gets tough.

The words that came to my mind mostly relate to nature. I have been walking down single track lanes to the coast, marvelling at the abundance of plants in the hedgerows. Feasting on blackberries and swimming in the bracing sea at Mwnt beach.

Here is my list.

HEDGEROW

BLACKBERRIES

SEA

SUNLIGHT

QUIET

BIRDSONG

SWALLOW

DEW LADEN GRASS

PINK STRING

COBWEBS IN THE MORNING SUN

SEA MIST

COLD SEA SWIMMING

THE SOUNDS OF SUMMER

COWS CHEWING 

GNOME PARTY

VERDANT

Most self explanatory. Gnome party is happening right now in the polytunnel at the top of the garden. 

It is a signal of hope.

Of how the imagination allows freedom, particularly if you are a child.

gnome party in the poly tunnel

Pink string; a cheerful choice. 

pink string

Talking to cows is always worthwhile.

inquisitive cow

Late afternoon sun on the roadside flora.

hedgerow

Some paths are a little too lush. Nettles and brambles in abundance.

verdant pathway

And of course there are the campers.

With a view of the sea from the top of a field.

All very tidy and organised.

It is the sound of happy holiday makers rising up onto the cliff top from the beach below that I refer to in 'the sounds of summer'.

A hundred happy people's voices melded into one characteristic soundtrack.

a room with a view

tidy campers

I have collected some leaves and flowers and had a go at mono printing.

hedgerow monoprint

leaves from the hedgerow

Finding inspiration is a struggle right now.

I am uncertain where all of this is leading. 

So I keep reminding myself that inspiration comes when it is ready. It is OK not to have a plan.

I'll just keep walking, and occasionally come across moments of magic that set me free.

Like the sight of sunlight on the sea at Mwnt from the top of the cliff.

A meditative moment that will linger long in my memory.

Throwing grass and letting go in the Hebrides

Luskentyre, Harris

Harris, in the Outer hebrides.



My favourite place in the world.

I went for just four days, determined to do very little other than walk, write and take some photos.

I was thinking all the while about ways to do very little, or as I thought of it 'practically nothing'.

I found a few ways.

Collecting shells on the beach was my first.

On Scarista beach I collected sea urchin fragments. They reminded me of Paul Kenny's work, 'Heaven or Las Vegas', Ross strand, Mayo, 2008, shown below.

Why so rectangular, when a sea urchin is round, I kept thinking.

https://paul-kenny.co.uk/photo_5003362.html

My fragments were less varied in colour.

homage to Paul Kenny, 2019

I photographed them on my notebook and then dissembled the arrangement, not wanting to copy Paul's work.

I found a number of sheep with lambs to talk to.

lamb and ewe, Harris 2019

My favourite was this brown one.

We had a good chat, eye to eye.

I said more than she did.

I revisited all of my favourite beaches.

I had forgotten how white the sand is, and how clear the water.

Such a sense of space and freedom.

Luskentyre, Harris 2019

And when I had tired of walking on sand, I decided to explore the old coffin road that crosses the island from west to east.

Coffin Road, Harris

By this time I was so good at doing practically nothing that I started to play a little.

I searched for circles of lichen on rocks, but the rocks were mostly unappealing.

Still trying to do nothing in particular I waited for three o'clock.

It came.

I walked on, and was soon drawn to some curling grasses by the roadside.

I pulled some and held it, trying to photograph the curling blades with the road ahead.

Then I threw some into the air to catch the wind.

It flew.

I tried to throw and capture it on my camera; not easy with one hand.

I failed over and over.

But the very act of throwing gave more pleasure than I care to admit.

Finally I managed, just once,  to catch a tendril before it fell.

throwing grass, Harris , 2019

Somehow this one photograph captures everything that I was feeling.... a sense of freedom and lightness.

It is my favourite image from the trip.

Later I wrote some words to accompany it.

First I tried typing a note on my typewriter. There is no option to change and edit as one writes with a typewriter, so the first draft is quite spontaneous.

Later I revisited these thoughts and tried some different words in my notebook, writing and re-writing, playing with verbs.

I call them 'Letting Go'.

Letting go

throwing 

throwing grass

pulling

tearing

throwing

grass

pulling skywards

throwing windwards

throwing

blowing

falling

splaying

throw

pull

watch

blow

grip

pull

drop

fly

fall

let

go

 **************

Finding ways to do nothing was a good way to spend a few days.

I won't leave it so long before I go back next time.

Northton, Harris

Walking with Cacti

 

cactus

My other half and I spent a few days in Palm Springs over the Christmas break. We hoped for some warm sunshine as an interlude to family visits in Vancouver.

It was unseasonably cold when we visited Joshua Tree National Park. In fact it snowed.

Joshua trees in Joshua tree national park

We were dressed for warmer climes, so had to walk briskly and don a remarkably odd combination of clothes in order to keep warm.

The park was sadly affected by the US government 'lapse in federal appropriations'. The rangers were absent, park entry was free, and it was only thanks to the volunteer friends of Joshua Tree that we found the toilets and amenities in good condition. Toilet paper provided by volunteers.

bins closed due to federal shut down

volunteers clearing rubbish ( trash) in their private vehicles

'friends of Joshua Tree' cleaning up an amenity area out of the love that they have for the park

The volunteers kept the park open for a good week, but were unable to cope with the damage to fragile vegetation and copious problems of excrement at the campsite.

The park and campsite is now closed until further notice, along with several other national parks.

Donald wants his wall.

We were lucky to be there before it closed.

Cholla cactus

Cholla, Joshua tree national park

A day or so later we explored the Indian Canyons, home of the Agua Caliente Band of Cahuilla Indians near Palm Springs. This is not affected by federal issues and has a number of hiking trails on dry, treeless hills and canyons.

The weather had improved.

 

It didn't rain. 

We hiked in Fern Canyon. We didn't find the ferns; they come later in the year. We found dry bushes and an oasis of palm trees.

Barrel cactus, Indian Canyons

Later, I wrote a some words about the pleasures of walking in the desert.

Walking with Cacti

Let me tell you how we wandered

on narrow paths

and stony washes

not far from the Salton sea.

Stepping out onto the reservation

we made our way down deep, into the canyon,

heading for the wilderness and the valley below.

Cool water.

An oasis of palms with a thousand fronds strewn randomly.

Dry and disorganised below charred columns.

Relics of seasons past.

As we walked I brushed my fingers against winter’s woody forms;

graceful whorls anchored on low centred stems.

Cactus spines inviting contact.

Finger tip to needle.

Respectfully.

Through squat colourful ocotillo

and fissured rocks we slowed;

hyperawareness of the silence

exchanged for a quiet acceptance of our surroundings.

Small birds flitting and calling in high pitched chatter.

Ridges and valleys

rolling into the distance beneath the winter sun.

We might have ventured further,

but chose the easy route,

returning on the same path through chollas

comically poised on a hillside where almost no- one ventured that day.

A quiet place.

Together.