You’ll never walk alone…

This is the sort of thing the Chinese might issue as a curse alongside, “may you live in interesting times”.

Probably best known as a line from The Kop as a load of sentimental people sway back and forth in their identikit overpriced polyester, scarves held over their heads.

The camera zooms in on some over emotional fan head thrown back bawling the anthem, a tediously clichéd football commentator warming up with the usual banalities.

Sport as quasi-religious event complete with two minutes silence  like as not.

Then its kick-off, time for the racial abuse and threatening the opposition and failing that just giving a kicking to the bloke that has last years strip on.  You have to be in the right mob.

John Hee, in his excellent blog, comments on an article in the recent TGO magazine.  It concerns the mental side of being out on the hills alone. (here it is)

I left the sort of comment that comment fields encourage.  Short and to the point(less?).

I am a loner, perhaps anti-social, although I can function adequately in society if cornered by it.  Usually society steers clear, its got better things to do, a happy balance is struck.

I see rambling groups from time to time.  Invariably of a certain age, an age I have yet to reach.  Gaiters and poles seem to be the thing and flaccid rucksacks, a virtuous aura emanates, strapping women, spindly men .  They march past in tight groups jabbering to each other, it is gossip, probably about the group behind. 

I never see them out on the fields, I see them walking along the local seafront.  The equipment for its own sake, its the uniform.

It would be one of the circles of my personal hell, its ghastly.  I suspect its some sort of church splinter group, “Walk for Christ sake”. 

Walking is not a large group activity, that’s marching, protest, regimentation and cause, it makes authorities nervous,  something for a populous to fear.  A whole different paradigm.

I walk alone, it is effectively a life choice, the whole level of organisation becomes factors more simple.  I am never actually alone, certainly never lonely, as I have one or two dogs as companions.  They need help at times and always need thinking of.

This is useful as while I might be slightly inclined to take the odd risk with my own personal safety I will never risk them.  They also seem to be more in tune with the landscape than me, closer to it, with less between them and it I guess.  More than once I have been warned off boggy ground by a dog, I’ve learnt to recognise that.

The dogs themselves are happy to follow me, it is all the same to them.  They have total trust I am going to get them back in one bit and feed them as necessary.  I do not have to give much thought about how they are feeling during the walk, it is pretty simple for them.

Safety is a serious concern.  I have been wandering about desolate places with the thought in the back of my mind, “What if I did break my leg?”

I’d be in trouble without a mobile phone signal, that is for sure, likely in some problems with one.  But to dwell on this sort of thing is about like wondering what would happen if you got hit by a car crossing the road.  You could die is what might happen.  Urbanites dismiss the car possibility and obsess about the falling down the well possibility.

I make people aware of where I am at least well enough that hopefully the search parties have found me before the dogs have eaten me.  Beyond that I take the attitude, “those are the chances you take”.

There are most certainly places where safety issues mean you don’t go alone.  Mountaineering, potholing, places where adverse weather conditions are likely are instances that spring easily to mind.

Every so often I would like to share a view with someone, or a thought, but it presupposes they would be interested.  How often have you had an experience ruined by a moments thoughtlessness of another?  You think the view is great, a visual pun amusing but they just grunt, shrug their shoulders, complain about a blister.  It cuts both ways, you find yourself rolling only half interested as your walking partner has something to add.  You’ve just lowered their enjoyment factor.  In the end you trudge in silence.

Human company is an additional layer of responsibility, you are always wondering if they are enjoying it, and how can you improve on that state.  It is also a compromise from start to finish.  You cannot really go on a wild goose chase after that butterfly that refuses to pose for the photo.

Part of the charm is people have different outlooks, interests and knowledge, but it is the essential weakness as well.  If someone had as much interest as me over ancient sweet chestnut trees as I had in my last walk, every chance we would still be there, boring each other to death with increasingly esoteric and unlikely facts.  If they don’t share the same interests then one or other is in an almost continual state of eye rolling.

And that is just a group of two.

Start expanding the numbers and before you know it, you are in small knots of people, heads down gossiping about the group behind and their unhealthy interest in tree bark.

Rogers and Hammerstein wrote Liverpool’s future football anthem in 1945.  Gerry and Pacemakers brought it to a new audience in the 1960s.  In between and afterwards a mind bogglingly eclectic mix of musicians have performed it.

When you walk through a storm
Hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark
At the end of the storm
Is a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark

Walk on through the wind
Walk on through the rain
Tho' your dreams be tossed and blown
Walk on, walk on
With hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone
You'll never walk alone

So it turns out this is the song for a solitary stroller not a chinese curse.