10 minute read
WORDS FROM THE WILD
Why travelling, and how we travel, matters
Since I embarked on my first ever solo journey abroad at 14, I have been acutely aware of how we travel being just as important as the travelling itself, or the reasons that we do it. Yes, at 14 I navigated myself through the complexities of Manchester Airport to board a plane to stay with a family who I initially met in the UK. Their career in the Greek Air Force meant they moved around a lot, and I was privileged to share some of their journey with them.
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This was far from my first sojourn. Having been brought up in an overlanding family, I was taken on long road (and ferry) trips for a considerable amount of every year from the age of 9 months. We always travelled by car, usually some form of British classic, often a 4x4, and boat, with the exception of the occasional flight.
Between these trips we weekended, and spent half terms, driving, hiking, horse riding, and mountain biking, occasionally canoeing or even abseiling (this is not my forte, heights and I do not get along!), and as soon as I was old enough I signed up to the Duke of Edinburgh’s Award Scheme, later becoming a team leader and trainer.
By the first time I moved abroad, solo aged 19, with all my worldly goods packed into a Suzuki Jimny, I had significant experience of most forms of transportation and travel, but, more importantly in my opinion, I had directly experienced how each mode affected me and the journey I was on.
As 4x4 drivers, we are accustomed to being told that we should walk. We also know the virtues that selfpropelled travel on foot is said to gift us, mainly health, both mental and physical, but is walking really the only form of transportation that can benefit us in that and other ways?
What if you are unable to walk, or walking just isn’t suitable for the kind of journey you need or wish to make?
To make sweeping statements that everyone should do something because it benefits everyone in the same way is rubbish. We are not all the same. As something of an outlier who scores highly on the eccentricity scale I can very much vouch for that!
This is why I spend a considerable amount of time listening to and reading people’s stories about travelling, and why and how they do it. More importantly, what the benefits of their choices are for them as an individual with the right to enjoy whatever the hell floats their boat.
I included a considerable amount of this in a paper I wrote about countryside access. Some people call it my 'disability paper', presumably because they haven’t actually read it. It includes far more than that one topic alone. It’s main message is to call for equality between user types however they choose to travel and whether disabled or not.
I also began work on another paper that discusses the health and other benefits of motorised travel, although this is likely to remain unfinished and unpublished for a while, it will materialise.
The subject matter is worthy of discussion, for it has already proven to be a game-changer when it comes to shifting the perceptions of those who simply refuse to see that not everyone is as narrow-minded and bigoted as they are, and that we all have our own preferences that are as valid as each other’s.
The benefits of self-navigation and of moving through time and space in a variety of ways, is far more valuable to human evolution than most of us would ever imagine.
From the moment we put one foot in front of the other and take our first step, to the 37,965th time we get in our cars and drive, we are learning valuable skills that we need in other areas of our life.
We are learning to remember, because movement is directly related to forming something called episodic memory. In basic terms, without navigating ourselves through the world, we are failing to teach our brains how to remember, so this is really important stuff.
We are also failing to teach ourselves about physics, and with that brings significant risk, if we never learn to control our movement, we are bound to come a cropper.
If we only ever learn to walk forwards not backwards, or only to cycle but not drive, etc., we are missing out on forming neural networks that allow us to think and function as effectively and independently as we potentially could.
There are many overlanding quotes such as:
Yes, it may be a cliché, but it is also true. It is true of any form of travel, because even if you’re only out for a day’s laning and not traversing the globe, you are constantly teaching yourself something, and the more methods of travel you use and the more often you use them, the more you are learning.
At least we are today, but with the advent of GPS systems, phone apps, sat-navs, and now self-driving cars, we are at risk of losing a huge benefit to humanity. The more user-friendly moving about becomes, the less of our brains we need to use to do it, and the more incapable we as users become.
If you’re interested in the scientific stuff I suggest reading Why We Drive by Matthew Crawford, it makes excellent reading, and includes a fascinating and in-depth look at the subject.
Neuroscience aside, we don’t need to be able to explain what is happening when we can feel it.
I have spent the vast majority of my time since my last column outdoors, which will likely come as no surprise.
I’ve not long got back from a month of wild camping in Scotland with Ralph the L322, but after a few weeks I get itchy feet, so I jumped back in the Rangie, headed for the woods, and haven’t looked back....until I unexpectedly rescued two cats that is. They don’t like the feral life, who’d have guessed!?
Neville
Luna
In both cases, I’ve walked miles and driven many more. I love exploring the forest on foot and being out in the fresh air. Just as I loved hiking to lost villages in Scotland or wild swimming in rivers or lochs, I also love the driving, this remains my favourite method of self-propulsion. Each activity gave me something unique - walking made me feel good, open-water swimming even more so, but while walking has been great, I’ve had the occasional off day.
There’s a lot of change going on at the moment (or there were, things are awesome now), and while walking I have time to let these things weigh on my mind.
Don’t get me wrong, time to think is good, I often spend my time walking or swimming in my gym's pool thinking of storylines, world-building for my fictional writing, and even mulling over legal cases when in my previous role.
Often ideas come to you when you are doing other tasks, this is a known psychological phenomenon to do with the subconscious, but having time to dwell on life stresses isn’t good and, at least for me, that’s where driving comes in.
On many occasions I’ve forced myself to walk for hours when I’ve not felt great, but it’s the drive to the location and back again that’s made me feel better than the walk did.
Driving takes up far more processing space than walking, you’re moving faster, there are more hazards to look out for. Other people are often doing silly things around you, but even if, like me, you’re driving in remote areas and see no one else on route, you’re still forced to carry out far more complex tasks than placing one foot in front of the other and not bumping into something. It takes up more brain space and insists that you forget your worries and focus on the present moment and the road ahead.
Then there’s the pure enjoyment of it.
We all love doing different things, and we all have different passions. While I would say that I like walking, I would call driving a passion.
When I left the woods on those down days, I’d had a nice time but still felt a bit blue. Doing my favourite activity - getting into the driving seat, putting on some music, opening the window, and moving off - gave me an immediate boost. Instead of driving straight back to camp, I went for a drive, often retracing the steps I’d walked, and if I hadn’t I wouldn’t have arrived back feeling as good as I did.
It's not just the activity either, it’s the car. We all have something we cherish, that has sentimental value to us, even if others can’t see it, and for us our cars are often our most treasured possessions.
I almost sold Ralph recently, but when it came close for a buyer to come and take a look, I realised how much I was potentially going to lose and how much that affected me. Luckily the buyer didn’t show up and I returned to my senses.
As 4x4 owners our vehicles are so much more than cars. They are our ticket to freedom, our means to adventure, our homes/beds for the night, our saviours or the saviours of others, and they are extensions of ourselves and our way of life. To those of us with disabilities, they may well be the only way we can venture into the deeper countryside.
This way of life is something we share with something else that is vitally important to our lives - community. While walkers, cyclists, horse riders, and 4x4 drivers all share a passion for the outdoors, we are all different on a community level.
Each group has its own culture formed over generations, and having been part of all of the above at some point in my life, I can honestly say that the 4x4 community fits me far better than the others. For me, it’s the sense of adventure (and humour!), the selfsufficiency, and the willingness and preparedness to help others that makes our culture attractive.
While I have no intention of divulging the details what I’m up to at the moment, you’ll just have to wait until it comes to fruition, I can tell you that it focuses on the benefits of outdoor travel, and of course includes a focus on 4x4s.
While I’ve been walking the walk, or more accurately driving the drive, for years when it comes to the benefits of our hobby, it is time to drop a cog and plant my right foot where it makes the best noise.
That’s all from me for this month folks!
Drive safe, Lauren & Celyn (and now Neville & Luna!)
