If I had written a diary entry for Friday night, and obviously exaggerated in the much need high school girly way needed for any diary entry that starts with the words “Dear Diary”, it probably would have gone something like this:
Dear Diary,
Don’t tell anyone but tonight I was so scared that I almost peed myself. OMG, if anyone I know had seen me then I so would be teased Monday morning. It was worse than like that time I got caught in the classroom after hours with…
Fortunately, I’m not lying stomach down on my bed, chewing the end of my pen and gazing up at my boyband posters while my little book of memories and dreams sits on my pillow. Extremely fortunate too that I have fairly decent bladder control even after a few drinks. I don’t usually write journal type entries, even when I do just write blog updates, but sometimes there are stories you want to share.
As some of you know, I’ve recently been doing a spate of video logs on an almost daily basis, for no reason other than I don’t really have much inclination to write, but I want to do something to keep me occupied and attempt to remain at least somewhat interesting – something that I fear I have been lacking of late.
I wanted to do a little project, gearing up towards Halloween and there is the wonderfully gloomy wooded area that I pass on my way to work. At the brightest parts of the day it is shadowy and secluded, the tree canopy providing thick cover even in the Autumn when it is just bare branches. The wood is a narrow stretch but makes up for it in length, one side of the wood is bordered by a golf course whilst the other by the outskirts of Uphill village.
Because of the relative closeness to the beach, most of the ground is soft, moving sand that offers little purchase. The frequency of dog walkers, ramblers and children ‘adventuring’ has led to pathways being forged between the trees, cutting through nettles and weeds for the most part, and leaving only crisp fallen leaves atop the sand.
Given this gloomy nature, this uncertain footing and then adding in that I had already consumed a couple of JD and Cokes before reminding myself of the task, this might not seem like the best of ideas. However, it does get better, you see I had also decided beforehand that for the best effect it should be done at dusk, to get that twilight hue to the air.
Camera in hand, I walked out along the beach watching in equal measure the sun rolling down behind Steep Holm island and the police chasing down posers in Porsche’s and speedfreaks in old Golfs and Polos. The sky had an almost velvety blue look to it and seemed so perfect.
Of course, what I failed to realise was that I really do have no wilderness skills, even in a small ramblers trail, and that dusk has a habit of turning in to night quite quickly. I was looking through the small LCD lens of the camera a lot, picking out pathways that would lead me deeper to secure more quantity footage, so that I could at least have duration.
I clambered up small rises, slowly skidded down the other side by sidefooting my way down gradually. I leapt over fallen trunks and anything that my mind considered could hold rabid wildlife. I skidded on level ground, because the sand frequently shifted almost as soon as I felt sturdy on my feet. I could hear birds in the trees, not the soft spring and summer chirping, but caws. Occasionally things would shift above, causing a leaf or other plant matter to drop and tap my head or shoulder lightly.
Eventually, I found myself without path, reaching and area with metal fencing all around, to one side I could see the village lights, the other side I could make out the golf courts night lighting, but nowhere seemed to offer me a route. I looked up and saw blue-black through the canopy, and looked around at my surroundings again, realising that less and less was becoming discernible to me.
It was then that I realised that I might have made a slight boo-boo. Here I was at the end of a trail, in a place I’d never been before and at a time when it was only going to get harder to see my way out. I knew that I could remember a few things I’d passed, but doubted I’d be able to follow the exact route out. I swore, not for the last time I assure you, and turning to face the way I knew must equal ‘out’, I started the trek back.
The route back was much harder, because where before I could see the narrowest of beaten paths they had been stolen away by the shadows of night. Frequently I found myself going from the hard crunch of dead leaves to the softer squelch of fresh nettles. I was concerned about animals, I’d no idea if there was anything living there that I might disturb or hurt, or anything that may even hurt me – the last thing I’d want is to upset a furry little Squirpion whilst it buried it’s foraged nuts.
At times I could only see a few feet in front of me, often trying to second guess dips and rises, and frequently misjudging both. By then, recording had become the least of my concerns and I only wished that my camera had an LED maglight fitted.
Eventually, I found my way back to the road, basking in the orange glow of a street light and trying to catch my breath from all the sand climbs. There was a feeling of accomplishment, which may sound rather lame given that I was lost in an area that is only about two-hundred meters squared, but I had managed to get myself out on my own and without getting scared stupid – not even too creeped out, as I was more worried about how late it was getting rather than any actual danger.
It was, however, less exhilirating when I reviewed the footage and found that what I could see in the LCD was not what was going to be displayed when exported. For some reason, digital cameras like to lie, and what may look like a scene that though a little dark is still visible, will often turn out to be a grainy blur of obscurity and swearing.
If you are interested my recent vlogs are held over on my YouTube channel, and there you can find both the vlog for that day and the extended version where – like me – you wont see much in the woods.
Those kids from Blair Witch can suck my sack.
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