So there we are, looking at the map, stood in a field, wondering where the wall/footpath/fence has gone. The black line on the map giving to us the sense of something physical on the ground. Something that may have long since departed this place. It still means we carry on, just using some different marker to get where we are going, and if all else fails, get the compass out and at least find where North might be hiding. I’ve just received my new maps, ready for a trip later in the year, and now I get to trace possible routes and ideas until the moment we see how different the land can be in the real world.
A Line on the Map.
We’ll start here with the footpath,
although maybe that’s optimistic,
it may just be footprints in mud, grass
or just gaps in the fence, a stile.
It’ll change as we walk, to rocks,
to scree, bracken slopes or stream beds.
Rock filled gullies, quarry blocks or,
who climbed here before and left us
a cairn, marking a turn to lead us along
the cliff edge or turn us onto the ridge
and before we arrive at the final climb
up the cut, to the col, along the beck
by the ledge, over the scar and up
finally to the top, the peak, the summit,
the lonely trig point waiting to prove
that yes we were finally there.