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I went on up the rough slopes, revelling in the sunshine, the beauty
of the mountains and the freedom to be here and the freedom of being
here, of being able to wander freely in the hills, going where I
wished, seeking out what lay round enticing corners, peeking into
hidden niches and exploring everything offered by this glorious
wild country.
The ridge ended suddenly and there, just a few metres away, lay
the summit of Cairn Toul. Here, unsurprisingly, the solitude of
the day was broken and I was soon joined by two others, ascending
from their camp in Glen Geusachan. Talk initially was of the wonderful
landscape of the Cairngorms that spread out all around us but it
soon turned darker as the shadow that lies over all walkers was
mentioned: the foot and mouth outbreak.
My companions had come up from England to escape the closures still
prevalent down there. Yes, they said, you could walk in some places,
as long as you used certain access points, stuck to certain footpaths
and returned to designated points. But regimented, controlled walking
was not what they wanted so they'd come to the Highlands to walk
in freedom.
Understandably the debate over the foot and mouth closures has
concentrated on regaining access, driven mainly by the need to bring
visitors back and rescue the hard pressed economies of the hills.
Why people go to the hills, what it means and why it is necessary
has tended to be forgotten, though some writers, like Dave Hewitt
in his excellent running commentary on the crisis, have touched
on this. Now that we have, at least in Scotland, a breathing space
to consider what has happened I think it's important to look beyond
the economic arguments and consider the less tangible reasons for
restoring access and ensuring that it is never lost again.
Over a hundred years ago John Muir wrote "thousands of tired,
nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that
going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity."
For many of us that last phrase resonates with truth and meaning.
"Wildness is a necessity". Not a hobby, not a casual pursuit, not
a fashionable activity. A necessity. Necessary in order to feel
whole, to feel free, to feel able to cope with the complexities
and restrictions of the modern world. One of the great insults of
the foot and mouth debacle was the dismissal of walking and climbing
as unimportant, trivial, just hobbies that people could abandon
for something else. No mention here of mental and spiritual renewal
or physical well being.
An essential component of wildness is freedom; freedom to go where
and when you like, freedom from the rules and regulations that govern
the world of work and urban living. Take that freedom away and the
wildness disappears with it. That's why disinfection points, controlled
access, a plethora of notices and all the other attempts to regulate
access to the hills are so objectionable. They destroy the freedom
of the hills, the sense of adventure and the sense of responsibility
that goes with mountain exploration even for those who stick to
footpaths.
My two companions on Cairn Toul needed that freedom, that's why
they were in the Cairngorms and not the English or Welsh hills.
The absence of visitors even in villages and other "permitted" places
at the height of the crisis showed that others felt so too, even
those who don't walk far or venture high into the hills. For them,
as interviews and letters in the press have made clear, the countryside,
even farmed lowland countryside, represents a freedom that is lacking
in cities. So when the country roads are lined with Keep Out notices
people stay away. Just knowing that they can't stop for a picnic
or to wander a few hundred yards to a riverbank or into a forest
means they no longer feel free and no longer want to be there.
Days in the hills are restorative, a way of slowing, relaxing,
unwinding, and shedding the stresses of daily life. Watching a buzzard
wheeling overhead, figuring out the next move on a rock climb, gazing
into a rippling burn, navigating carefully across a mist-shrouded
hillside all set you firmly in the present where nothing matters
beyond the moment and where you are responsible for yourself. This
I think is far more conducive to health and well being than any
amount of happy pills, sleeping potions or other chemical substitutes.
A day in the hills, even a physically exhausting one, can lead to
feelings of energy and renewed confidence in your ability to cope
with every day life.
Indeed, perhaps it is the physically exhausting, physically challenging
days that are the most beneficial because they provide something
not usually found in most people's daily lives. Facing real challenges
in uncontrolled wild country can have a marvellously recuperative
effect. Just how good can be seen from the results of a two-week
wilderness trip in 1972 on which fifty-one patients from the Oregon
State Hospital all suffering from serious mental illness were taken
backpacking, river rafting and rock climbing. Some of these people
had been in the hospital for over ten years; all were felt to be
incurable. However it was hoped that the trip would help them to
come to terms with themselves and feel at least some degree of achievement
and self-fulfilment. The results were astonishing and far beyond
what was expected. Over half the group improved so much they didn't
need to return to hospital.
As well as helping you stay mentally well-balanced going to the
hills is also of course a superb way to keep physically healthy.
It will never be known just how many individuals have suffered in
mind or body because of their forced absence from the hills or how
much this will cost the health service.
Yet how easily the hills were "closed", how suddenly we were told
to stay away, as though going to the wilds was an irrelevancy, something
that mattered little to individuals or society. Most land managers,
including those who were believed to hold land on behalf of everybody
but who have proved to be no better than private owners, gave no
thought to the needs of those who use the wilds. Farming became
the only activity worthy of support or even consideration, even
though it was clear from the outset for those who bothered to look
into the matter that keeping people off the hills would have no
effect on the spread of foot and mouth. The knee-jerk reaction was
to shut the land, claiming that walkers and climbers could spread
a disease they had no contact with.
To prevent this happening again, to ensure that wild country is
always available as a necessary counter to Muir's "over-civilized"
world, the hills need to be viewed as belonging to everybody, to
being there for everybody and not as the private playthings of the
rich or the property of empire-building conservation bodies. The
rights of access to wild land should be absolute. The freedom of
the hills has proved to be alarmingly fragile. We need to ensure
that it is strengthened.
Chris Townsend
19/7/2001
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