Walking in a park

Discovering something wild behind our fenced-in shared spaces

The wilderness of Wanstead Park, east London

And we’re back!

I’m so happy to be writing this newsletter again, so thank you for your patience while I worked behind the scenes to restart it.

At this time of year in the northern hemisphere, people are reluctantly packing away their summer gear and getting back to school and work. Travel plans are shelved until they can be picked up again next year and walking boots are replaced with work shoes. How are you transitioning from the long nights of summer into the cool days of autumn?

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Walking

If you’re an urban dweller, like me, who craves being outdoors on the regular then you’re probably intimately acquainted with your local park. These pops of green amid a sea of grey offer city folk a much-needed escape from the artificial climates of heated homes and air-conned workspaces.

But they don’t always feel very… wild. Paved paths that force you to follow in other people’s footsteps, sharp-cut lawns without a daisy in sight and row upon row of flower beds, standing to attention like soldiers on parade, pale in comparison to the ragged corners of a wildflower meadow or the secret spaces between the trees in a wood.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t find a patch of wilderness in the city if you look carefully. More and more public park managers are setting aside areas in their parks and allowing them to rewild. They skip the lawn mowing and scatter wildflower seeds. They create woodland trails and dig ponds to encourage wildlife. And they give people access to much-needed green spaces by taking over abandoned cemeteries, like Tower Hamlets Cemetery Park, and Abney Park in London where I hosted my first in-person writing walkshop.

Tower Hamlets Cemetery Park, east London

Victoria Park in east London is my closest park and the one I wander around the most. Known as the People’s Park it has to cater to a lot of needs. There are tennis courts, playgrounds and playing fields, as well as a boating lake, fishing pond and quirky features like the Chinese Pagoda.

The Chinese Pagoda, Victoria Park, east London

As a well-trod park it can be hard to find a quiet spot that makes you feel like you’ve escaped the city – and its occupants – but those places are there, if you look at things differently. In the east side of the park, if you step off the wide Tarmac path, you’ll find a narrower, footworn trail that follows the canal beneath trees that line the fenced edges. While dozens of joggers, runners, rollerskaters and cyclists race by just a few feet away, I step into this slightly quieter place, passing fewer people as I walk, which makes it feel like I’m in my own world.

Me and Woofy on the not-so-secret secret path in Victoria Park

But even the park’s popular spots, like the lakes where people gather to picnic, offer places where I can pause, sit alone, tune out the sounds of people around me, focus on the birdsong and pretend I’m in the countryside. The trick is to notice where everyone else is going then turn away from them and walk in a different direction.

So for your walk this time, I invite you to find a spot of wilderness within the cultivated confines of a local park. Wherever you see a paved path, hunt around for a smaller one made by people’s feet and see where it takes you. Turn away from the crowds and the playgrounds, the tennis courts and cafes, and head towards the trees and scruffy edges. Try the path less travelled and see what you find.

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Writing

Public parks come with an awful lot of rules. And while they’re usually well-intended and designed to make sure everyone can enjoy and share the space, they can be a bit doom and gloom by focusing on all the things the park managers don’t want you to do, but not sharing any of the good stuff that they’ll permit you to do. Look at these baffling, and sometimes contradictory, rules from four signs at Victoria Park. Despite the promising ‘welcome to our park’ message on the first one, they feel anything but welcoming. And although they say they hope we enjoy our visit, they don’t let us know what enjoyable activities we’re allowed to take part in. It’s a long list of no, no, no and more no.

No dogs. Dogs must be kept on a lead. Clean up after your dog. No dogs. Wait, what?!!

So for your writing this time, I want you to find a sign in your local park that lists all the things you can’t do and rewrite it by listing all the things you can do. Turn those nos into yesses. And if you’re fortunate to live near a park that doesn’t have any signs like that, then feel free to rewrite some of the ones dotted around Victoria Park:

• No dogs

• Clean up after your dog

• Dogs must be kept on a lead

• No cycling

• Cyclists dismount

• Rowing area

• Keep out of the water

• No swimming

• No fishing

• No skateboards

• No rollerblades

• No littering

• No BBQ

• No camping

• No grafitti

• No amplified music

• No joy (okay, I might have made this one up)

I think you can have some fun with this and let your creativity go as wild as a spring meadow. So maybe you’ll say yes to solo silent discos, dressing up as a pigeon or talking to your favourite tree.

As always, I’d love to hear how you find the walking and writing, so let me know by adding a comment to this post.

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Growing this walking and writing community

I’m now using Notes on Substack to share bits and bobs like news, shorter walking and writing ideas, and recommendations of books, films, events and other writers. It’s also a way for you to join the conversation by adding comments and sharing your own notes. You can read my notes on The Writer’s Walk home page by clicking on the Notes tab at the top of the page or by downloading the Substack app.

I’m also on Instagram and I’d love to connect with you on there, too.

Until next time,

Sarah