The Pieterpad and its varied paths

Below:  path surfaces from Gramsbergen to Hardenberg

These collages are from my most recent 4 day 50km walk between Gramsbergen and Hellendoorn via Hardenberg, Ommen and Lemele. Travel logs for those days are blog posts 10,11, 12, and 13. But while I was walking, I kept seeing how interesting all the different surfaces were that my feet (said feet make a few cameos in the photos) were continually making contact with. So they are just as important as other visual records of the trip.

Above, you can see that it was rainy, and that the walk was more on roads than through nature reserves and woods.

Below, Hardenberg to Ommen, Ommen to Lemele

And finally, the last leg, from Lemele to Hellendoorn.


#9The path is always changing

path through dunes

path through dunes

We had a window of good weather, so I cancelled or changed several appointments and went walking.

I have to admit this leg was more difficult than previous ones for various reasons- I was carrying  heavier pack and was breaking in new walking shoes. Then the bus broke down- it was only 12 minutes from the stop where I’d left off last time, so I decided to walk it. I even found a place to rejoin a part of the Pieterpad I’d done last time. Bad move. It took me a whole day to get back to the place I needed to be, the weather was overcast, plus all the other factors just mentioned made it less fun. It was hard finding a place to stay, it got late, I was exhausted, etc etc. All part of long distance walking, I guess. In the end I did find a place with wonderful people hosting, and was able to rest, eat and have a good night’s sleep- all of of which take on heightened importance when on the road.

A nice feature I’ve run into a few times now are the ‘rest points’- unmanned little havens especially for hikers or cyclists, where you can at least make a cup of coffee or tea, and where there is often a toilet too. You just leave the money in a little dish.  This one was especially welcoming and had a guest book  full of appreciation from people who
had used it.

rest point outside

rest point outside

rest point interior

rest point interior

The next 2 days were great, but I will go back to my smaller, lighter pack. Walking with that weight on my back ruins the whole feeling of lightness and freedom these walks usually mean for me.

Leaving beautiful Drenthe, I crossed over into a new province- Overijssel (over EYE’ sill). The landscape became flatter again, less trees, the path was varied. It ran along canals and roads, through industrial parks, next to a windmill park, and down along the sides of highways.

The season is clearly changing, there were nuts, buckeyes (Pittsburghese for horse- chestnuts), and yellowing leaves on the paths. Farmers were bringing in the hay and grain. The midsummer fresh green was turning to a duller olive, the sun was lower. Usually I’m sad to see the summer leave, but it was such a rarely beautiful one that I can move, with acceptance and with nature, into autumn.

Commitments are starting up again, so it will be harder to get away for a few days in a row, but I’m determined to at least do some fall walking. And I’m curious about what the next section of path holds.


#8Storing summer light

August walk collection and weaving

August walk collection and weaving

There are some moments when, even in the middle of living them, you are already missing them. During my last walk, at the height of a perfect summer I knew I was creating a memory. In his wonderful book, The Old Ways, Robet MacFarlane describes a similar moment on one of his walks:

…and the sun loosed its summer light, as it had done for uncountable years across the sea, the island and my body, a liquid so rich that I wanted to eat it, store it, make honey of it for when winter came.

Shortly after my last light-filled walk we had a few days of rain, the weather was still warm. And then it all changed. It felt like getting kicked out of paradise- the skies turned an ugly leaden grey, storms raged, and the temperature dropped. It has been like this for about 10 days now, and autumn feels awfully close. No eating dinners outside,the doors closed, the heat back on, the thin, light clothing suddenly feeling inadequate and out of place, and giving way slowly to fleece and wool.

I just haven’t had a chance to prepare myself to let go of this idyllic summer so rare in the northern areas where I’ve lived for the past 36 years (Northern Scotland and Holland).

Fed up with being cooped up in the house for yet another day, I took off this morning for a short local walk. It was just an hour’s loop, but it was blissful. Contrary to a few days ago when I went out despite an approaching storm and got properly soaked to the bone, the rain held off. The wind was refreshing. There was a strange moment, I saw 3 large buzzards cruising on thermals above a small forest. And I walked along the canal where swallows were swooping for insects, I was in their flight path, so they would whoosh close by. As a background to all the bird flights, there were fighter jets training above the clouds- once in awhile their black arrow shapes would break into view far above the birds-  and the noise was deafening.

Still that was part of this walk, the nature was beautiful, and I came home more able to accept the possible early change of seasons.

Pieterpad talisman

Pieterpad talisman

Pieterpad talisman

During my last walk I discovered that almost as much as walking, I enjoyed stopping. Sitting in the dry grass along the path, everything became still. I could focus on the micro world around me, on the insects going about their lives, and the plants close to the ground.

I remembered how when Rende and I used to camp in France, the first thing I would do at a campground was to make a miniature garden. Collecting shards of sandstone I’d construct mini walls, and a bottle top would become a pond. I’d lose myself for hours in these tiny worlds. I’ve been doing this all my life.

So intuitively on my walks I’ve begun to collect grasses, wool, herbs and feathers. Finding a place to sit comfortably, I started to weave the grasses into a bracelet sized ring.

beginning to weave the grass

beginning to weave the grass

I had brought  a few supplies- thread, scissors, needles, so could bind the grass as I twisted it. This is a basket making technique I learned from an artist friend- you twist the grasses in one direction- say,  away from you, and bind them by twisting the thread in the opposite direction toward you. That way they stay in place.

grass ring

I ended up with a small roundel of grace, I mean grass. Later, at home, I added the other materials I’d collected from that walk. The downy feathers give it something whimsical.

Making things like this is somehow essential to me- it leaves me feeling more whole and connected and on track.

I’ll keep the finished object for awhile, but most likely will gift it back to nature on the next section of path I walk.

Larger conversations, searching for the soul in my art

Too early on, creating beautiful things became my sole source of praise, and self-worth. I think it took me an entire adult life to start to reclaim my art for myself, and disengage it from the outer trappings of approval.

David Whyte speaks about diving deep down to the core of our work where we are engaged in larger conversations with unknown forces. And that this level of work is hugely distanced from the usual criteria of professionalism, income generation and success.

He says that without this larger conversation, nothing will nourish us, we won’t find the passion or renewal needed to progress and grow and become fulfilled in our work.

I’m finding it increasingly harder to keep on with my oil painting. It seems to me so entwined with the old forms of art making, but not in the positive sense of craft mastery. Rather that, once finished, whether I see it that way or not, my painting becomes a product. It belongs to the market value system simply by existing.

I think if my work sold effortlessly, I wouldn’t get so hung up on the promotion aspect of it. If people bought my work for who I am, and not who the gallery is, and this work was seen to be a necessary part of someone’s life, or of the community,  I’d just keep keeping on.

This is my latest still life, I like the tippy-top band of colour best.

Tanny's bowl

Tanny’s bowl

I have been wondering how/if my painting is connected to my soul, to my heart’s path….It still seems to be about doing something well, and the very real joy of mastering  technique and using it expressively. But it has no context. I don’t feel part of the artworld or akin to my fellow painters who are trying to live from their work. It is made in a vacuum and stays there. It is something I do, but not who I am……..

But maybe I haven’t dived down into it deeply enough. I can’t seem to find the ‘passion’ or ‘renewal’ to go on with developing it. [Later: I reconnected to my painting again and there is so much delight in just the doing, and in seeing the progress, and getting closer to my vision of how I’d like to paint. The reward is in the joy of doing and discovery. So though there are ups and downs, I won’t be stopping anytime soon.]

On the other hand, this little laying out of objects collected on my last 2 walks does make my heart beat faster. It feels very close to who I am and who I always have been.



The little grass ring was woven while waiting for the bus to go back home, it has since been pimped up a bit with wool, pine cones and feathers, I’ll add a photo of the finished object later. (On this photo, inside the ring is a pinkish disc of lepidolite given to me by Rende). The wonderful weathered sticks are each from a different nature reserve- Gasteren Duinen, Balooërveld, and Sleenderbos.The flint is also from the sandy paths of Ballooërveld.

All my life I’ve been collecting feathers, sticks, shells, stones, seedpods. And weaving baskets from grasses and laying out collections in various configurations. I’ve never linked these activities with Art. It seemed too personal, like my own intimate rituals which had nothing to do with anyone else.

But it seems that this urge is more widespread, and that it is an expression of a new kind of art, linked with nature. So I’ll share it here, and so doing, feel to be part of a larger community also working with natural materials for healing, connection, meaning creation, peace, and the simple pleasure of it.