The word paradise derives from the Sanskrit paradesha
meaning elevated region. As far as this is concerned, the whole of
Glasgow's periphery is heavenly. This is the joy of living next to a
river, in the centre of a valley. The only way out is up! And up
invariably means, if you're operating on an organic level, energizing
the body-mind. Let's not forget that cardio is a primal activity. It
releases you into a wider domain, so that by the time you get up here,
the braes, the fells, the hills, you have elevated your self to another
dimension of world, one that is peaceful, serene, and emphatically
alive.
...
Sunday morning, late September. It's dark outside, overcast, looks like it's going to rain. I ponder a relaxing day in, writing, reading, drinking coffee... But I know that a cycle in the peripheral hills would be the thing to do. I ponder again, this time on the numerous routes I have at my disposal in and around Glasgow. Will I go north, get the train to Milngavie and set off from there? South, get the train to Barrhead from Pollokshaws West, and head up into the Lochliboside hills? South-west, jump the train at Dumbreck to Paisley Canal and head up the Glennifer Braes, or perhaps onto the Sustrans cycle way down to the coast? Or, north-west, the old favourite, train it from Partick to Dalmuir and head into the Kilpatrick Hills? Or east, get the train to Lanark and head up Fire Mountain, the inimitable Tinto Hill..?
So many possibilities. I've got the whole place covered. Thanks in part to the second largest rail network in Britain after London.
After a few minutes pondering, I decide on north.
No sooner have I left the flat than the sun comes out.... a sign surely?
Then when I get up to Mugdock and down to Strathblane, the sun is pouring down, dappled here and there by soft floating clouds. The difference between now and an hour ago is vast, so vast that I can't believe I was actually thinking about staying in. The Ballagan Burn glints in the sunlight, the sound of its gently trickling water enough to galvanise any dampened spirit.
Nearby, rainbows are coming in and out of consciousness. The dark clouds appear to be moving north away from where I am, and sure enough, as I head up to Lennox Forest the sky clears and the sun is out in force.
All the time, I'm wondering where everyone is. The paths and roads are empty.
Down the back of Blairskaith, into the quiet back lanes of Baldernock Parish, I come across a burnt out car in the middle of the road. There's a fridge in the lane beside it. Clearly, (someone has dumped a bin bag full of rubbish inside the car - do people just drive around with bags of rubbish?), the car has been there for a few days at least. The local constabulary obviously have their hands full. At any rate, I am happy, because the only good car is a burnt out one. At least they dumped it in the middle of the road this time with less damage to the surrounding nature. But, yes, if you want a joy-ride, maybe try the bicycle next time...
Coming back through Balmuildy Wood I discover a lone Whooper swan in the river. It seems a little shy, so I let it be. It's a great little path this, quiet, devoid of people... almost a secret spot that no-one knows about, except the migrating geese and swans, and the rooks and crows who roost in the tall trees beside Killermont Golf Course. Oh, and the kingfishers.... As I finish off the last of the coffee in my flask, the sun comes out again and lights up the whole river with what looks like constellations of glinting stars. The river is a thick brown colour, full of silt and goodness, and is flowing with all the force of a planet. It reminds me of something T.S. Eliot once wrote in his Quartets: I do not know much about gods, but I think that the river is a strong brown god...
It's a magical moment that reminds me of a short b/w French film called Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge (appropriated by The Twilight Zone). If you haven't seen it, check it out. You won't be disappointed.
I move on through the muddy shrub-laden path wishing I had a machete (Himalayan Balsam and Japanese Knotweed are taking over!), down to the back of John Paul Academy. Unfortunately, the lane is a real quagmire thanks to the local horse-riding population, so beware. Through Maryhill and onto the canal path at the five locks. From there it's a straightforward cycle home down through Kelvingrove Park and down past the Hydro. A little over four hours after I left the house this morning and I'm back, with a bodymind that can only be described as ecstatic. The head-space that a cycle like this creates is incomparable to anything you might get in a closed gym on a treadmill. Indeed, I stopped going to gyms for this reason, realizing that I am no longer a 'pet' of the corrupt capitalist system, but a fully-fledged animal whose wildness is coming on in leaps and bounds. 'Savagery enriches the spririt,' writes Jesus Sepulveda in his excoriating thesis on modernity The Garden of Peculiarities. Gyms are for pets. The outdoors, on the other hand, the hills, the coast, the woods....
No comments:
Post a Comment