I returned from Shadowhawk’s tracking course at Canonteigne on Monday mentally and physically tired, wet, but elated. It’s easy to over-enthuse about a course when you’ve just finished it, so before I tell you more about it, I’ll just let it all sink in. But the first impressions are that it was an amazing, eye-opening course that exceeded all my expectations. Before I went on the course, I jotted down the following ramblings but never got round to posting it. I have to post it now, because it seems so relevant to the last few days.

I sometimes feel guilty when I go to the woods and do nothing. One of my favourite pastimes is just to lie back in the hammock and do nothing but listen to the sounds of the wood or sit and watch. I’ve recently reflected that my excuse for this apparent idleness is that I consider it a kind of spiritual Bushcraft.

People who have gone on tracking courses have realised that getting psychologically deep into your surroundings can indeed increase your awareness. I’ve always been an advocate of keeping still and quiet and letting the wildlife come to you instead of tramping noisily through the wood in attempt to spot it. I also believe that we aren’t just visitors to the woods. At some stage in the distant past before we cleared the ancient woods and cleared land for agriculture we were actually part of its makeup. It provided for us. We hunted, foraged and in some cases lived in it. We utilised its resources and we were part of it. Why should that native status be revoked now?

I’ve been trying to develop this further and explore what I describe as a ‘Oneness’ with the wood. Is it really possible to ‘re-learn’ lost abilities such as increasing one’s peripheral vision and improving hearing? Is it also possible to notice micro signs of life, see tracks and trails never seen before, spot minor disturbances in the landscape and make educated guesses at what the quarry was doing or where it was going?

I have certainly realised that by sitting still on the ground, the less shy incumbents of the wood very quickly become used to you. First the insects return followed by the bird life. Many come particularly close and often Wrens, Robins and Squirrels are not much further than an arm reach away. Sounds are enhanced you fall into a kind of meditative state and you drift down and down into near sleep mode. The slightest movement attracts your attention, but you learn not to spin round suddenly, but use your peripheral vision that undoubtedly picked up the movement in the first place. Smooth, small and slow movements replace the sudden erratic jerky ones of our modern day living. Even smells become enhanced as you pick up a scent on the breeze (albeit a strong scent of a group of certain wild flowers or the pungent smell of a fox) but a scent nevertheless. I’ve yet to see the woods open up into a veritable narrative of woodland activity, but perhaps this is the first stage of developing a greater awareness of my surroundings.
How right I was and how much more there is. I’ll post part 2 later.

Right. Back to reality. My kit is now clean, dried and ready to be packed for the Bushmoot. (It’s all go isn’t it?) There’s quite a few adjustments for the moot. There will be more kit to take solely because it will be good to “show and tell” and compare different pieces of kit with others at the moot. The archery kit will be coming along as well as the bow drill and other odds and ends (and perhaps a few cans of beer). I’ll take the DD camping hammock (which worked really well for me at Canonteigne) and I’ll be trying out the travel hammock (with mossy net) as well. For a bit more comfort I’ll also take along the folding camping chair. Unlike last year where I considered the Bushmoot a minimal kit excursion, this year I’ll take a more relaxed approach.

My main aims for the moot are to crack the hand drill, learn some more knots, improve my knife sharpening and improve tree ID. Anything else will be a bonus.

See you when I get back. Thanks for the visit.

Pablo.