... I jump onto a solid-based wall further down the Bottom and catch a
slither of adder. I wait patiently for her reappearance. Something ancient
in our brain responds to the slither of snakes. We have known each other
for trillennia, watched.
This whale’s hump of Mendip, issue of a Variscan orogeny, rears its
carbuncled head above Triassic Levels. Flailing her tail against Frome,
tectonically challenged, she lunges for Steep Holm, Flat Holm, the open
sea. The walls barnacle her sandpapered back; ganglionated, nodes
fusing, transmitting outwards, feeding inwards. The nerve signals get
caught up in the slow growth of Alder, the diamondback pattern of adders.
They are soaked into the ground in blustery squalls, trickled down to
Radstock, Shepton Mallet, Wells, Highbridge, Weston-Super-Mare, Bristol.
Our index-linked lives are disturbed by wet dreams of Apollo-flung uplands
and dark-leaved combes, secret passages, Ebor Gorges, clammed-up
Priddys. The towns round the edges of the escarpment tremble at her
passage, populating her munificence with sheep, rambunctious cattle,
corn and alternative lifestyles.
slither of adder. I wait patiently for her reappearance. Something ancient
in our brain responds to the slither of snakes. We have known each other
for trillennia, watched.
This whale’s hump of Mendip, issue of a Variscan orogeny, rears its
carbuncled head above Triassic Levels. Flailing her tail against Frome,
tectonically challenged, she lunges for Steep Holm, Flat Holm, the open
sea. The walls barnacle her sandpapered back; ganglionated, nodes
fusing, transmitting outwards, feeding inwards. The nerve signals get
caught up in the slow growth of Alder, the diamondback pattern of adders.
They are soaked into the ground in blustery squalls, trickled down to
Radstock, Shepton Mallet, Wells, Highbridge, Weston-Super-Mare, Bristol.
Our index-linked lives are disturbed by wet dreams of Apollo-flung uplands
and dark-leaved combes, secret passages, Ebor Gorges, clammed-up
Priddys. The towns round the edges of the escarpment tremble at her
passage, populating her munificence with sheep, rambunctious cattle,
corn and alternative lifestyles.
I pick up my feet and walk. This is, after all, what
humans do, have always done. Picked up our feet
and walked. The Japanese master poet, Basho,
said, ‘we are travellers of eternity.’ Simon Schama
quotes an old Jew in the ancient forests of
(Lithuania?) being asked about his ‘roots’. Roots??’
scoffed the old man, ‘we’re not trees, we're humans.
Jews don’t have ‘roots’, we have LEGS. We pick ‘em
up and walk!’
humans do, have always done. Picked up our feet
and walked. The Japanese master poet, Basho,
said, ‘we are travellers of eternity.’ Simon Schama
quotes an old Jew in the ancient forests of
(Lithuania?) being asked about his ‘roots’. Roots??’
scoffed the old man, ‘we’re not trees, we're humans.
Jews don’t have ‘roots’, we have LEGS. We pick ‘em
up and walk!’
FROM
WINSCOMBE
TO PRIDDY
NINE
BARROWS
WINSCOMBE
TO PRIDDY
NINE
BARROWS
A MENDIP
JOURNEY
JOURNEY
a 9-day ramble
with myself
over the
Mendip in 2007
with myself
over the
Mendip in 2007
EXTRACTS
ONLY
ONLY
Composed as part of residency with
the Mendips AONB (Area of
Outstanding Natural Beauty) 'Lifelines
Project' from June 2006 for a year -
project around recording, preserving
and valuing the Mendip's unique
drystone walls
the Mendips AONB (Area of
Outstanding Natural Beauty) 'Lifelines
Project' from June 2006 for a year -
project around recording, preserving
and valuing the Mendip's unique
drystone walls
EXTRACTS ONLY - SOUND CLIPS TO
BE ADDED
BE ADDED
And so we do, through all human history, in
every age and time. We pick them up - and
walk. Neolithic Man, the Beaker Folk, Bronze
Age Man, the Romans – they all picked them
up and walked here, to these hills, and over
them, and beyond, and into new lives, old
deaths. Wave after wave. Where is their
voice? The wind soughs over Black Down;
fleeting cloud casts doubt on their remains.
every age and time. We pick them up - and
walk. Neolithic Man, the Beaker Folk, Bronze
Age Man, the Romans – they all picked them
up and walked here, to these hills, and over
them, and beyond, and into new lives, old
deaths. Wave after wave. Where is their
voice? The wind soughs over Black Down;
fleeting cloud casts doubt on their remains.
Rowberrow Warren