My shoulders are burning. My ankles feel like they are made of broken glass. I still haven’t showered; my clothes are stubbornly holding onto the scent of burning wood and sweat. Probably why the seats adjacent to me on this bus are empty, despite it being rush-hour. I just got back from wild camping in the Peak District, and I’m feeling a strange sense of tranquillity as I’m heading home through the bustling city.
Out of the four of us, none had wild camped before. We have just entered our twenties; life is now beginning to unload its torrents of relentless responsibilities and monotonous expectations. We all felt the same – we needed to get away, out of the city, out of consumerism and commercialism and the concrete world we are so accustomed to.
It was raining when we arrived in Buxton. All we knew about this town came from the bottled water brand of the same name – further evidence to our capitalistic credence and ignorance of anything not found within a Tesco Express. Stepping off the bus we had taken from Manchester, the first thing I noticed was the smell. As much as I love Birmingham, the city I was born and raised in, it’s not a pleasant smelling place. You don’t really reach this revelation until you go to a place like Buxton.
The air smelled clean, the people looked happy and the streets were tidy and quirkily laid out. Our stay was short though; we were determined to reach the Peak District with plenty of time before the sun began to set. Using our smart phones and the advice gleaned from helpful locals, we managed to find our bearings and set off in the direction of the National Park.
Our packs were heavy but our spirits surged with every step down the country road. The landscape around us became increasingly alien and mystifyingly beautiful the further we travelled; I noticed that our conversation topics changed as soon as we entered the wild. We delved deep into spiritualism, told fantasy stories where we affected strange accents, and frequently broke into spontaneous song like some wayfaring a Capella group. It occurred to me at one point that we must have looked extremely bizarre to anyone who witnessed our antics. The beauty of this trip, however, was that we were finally, wholly free of the inhibitions and social etiquette one has to uphold in the city. It was truly a refreshing and intoxicating feeling.
I went on to take a lot of photos throughout our trip. 923 to be exact. I can’t bring myself to start editing them yet though – just a quick glance at them on my camera stirred up an intense feeling of restlessness in my core. I’ll need to readjust myself to the city life before I get started on these pictures. I’m quite certain this restless feeling will never truly leave me though; not until I go back into the wild.
About the Authour: Joey Whiston is a 22-year-old English & Media student, fuelled by caffiene and the urge to create. An avid writer and photographer, he views the world in terms of narrative and adventure, and is always eager to see where the next path goes.
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Love how you describe the smells and pleasure of the countryside : )
Happy Travels
Doris