19. This is how the earth must see itself
On being part of the Following Nan all-women expedition into the Cairngorms
“Lay the head down, or better still, face away from what you look at, and bend with straddled legs till you see your world upside down. How new it has become! From the close-by sprigs of heather to the most distant fold of the land, each detail stands erect in its own validity. In no other way have I seen of my own unaided sight that the earth is round. As I watch, it arches its back, and each layer of landscape bristles—though bristles is a word of too much commotion for it. Details are no longer part of a grouping in a picture of which I am the focal point, the focal point is everywhere. Nothing has reference to me, the looker. This is how the earth must see itself.” – Nan Shepherd, The Living Mountain
Years and years (and years) ago, in uni, I went on my very first “proper” hike. It was also my first time hiking in the UK, my first time visiting the Lake District, and my first time getting out of southern England in general. A lot of firsts.
I didn’t feel so different after the trip – exhausted and a little exhilarated maybe – but it must’ve changed me in so many little ways that I didn’t realise the effect it had on me. I look back on it now as a great milestone in my personal life, as it was an experience that I didn’t really know existed until then – I didn’t really know about hiking or trekking or any of these walking-based outdoor adventures, or being outdoors intentionally.
Four years later, post-graduation, I went on my first long-distance trek with a friend. After that, I was firmly hooked. I decided then and there that I would do another one, but that this time I’d do it alone. Being an artist and photographer, always distracted by interesting things, moments, objects, landscapes, people, I had a tendency to lag behind. I hated feeling like I was in last place, too slow, not achieving enough quickly – a hang up from school maybe? And since then, most of the outdoors adventures I’ve done have been alone.
Despite the challenge of going solo, I find it easier in other ways to be alone. When I’m intrigued by something, I can stop as often as I want to and for as long as I want to to photograph or simply look at whatever was around me. And, if I’m being honest, the more important part is that when I struggle, it’s in private with no one around to witness it. There’s no pressure or anxiety to perform.
So when I saw the “teammates wanted” ad for an all-women expedition in Scotland’s incredible Cairngorm mountains inspired by Scottish mountaineer, author, and poet Nan Shepherd and her iconic book The Living Mountain, I was extremely hesitant but excited. Nan’s book is all about going slow; it’s anti-summit, anti-conquest. It’s not about getting to the top in the quickest and most efficient manner, or going from A to B to A again. Instead she writes on noticing and wandering and truly seeing, smelling, hearing, touching, tasting. Being in the present moment using all five senses.
It would be the first time I do a multi-day hike with a group of people, and the first time I’d do so in such a challenging landscape like the Cairngorms. I was nervous but genuinely more excited to be in a group of women all interested in doing the same thing. Almost three weeks ago on a Thursday morning, having all met in real life for the first time the day before, we set out on our four day expedition following Nan’s footsteps, minds full of WWND (what would Nan do).
I’ve wondered if it’s appropriate to write about a group expedition on this newsletter that I made specifically about going on adventures solo. There’s so much I gained from this group expedition that I didn’t expect to, or had “forgotten” about, including the wonderful experiences that can happen when you go in a group who get on like a house on fire. But I quickly realised that this group expedition of nine women altogether has been essential for me in terms of how I think of of past solo adventures and plan for future ones.
For starters, before the expedition even took place, it made me sit down and realise that my choice to go solo often, ironically, is rooted in fear and anxiety.
Then, I understood that it was easier for me to get through the tough days in a group (and oh my fucking hell did we have a tough day on day two). Throughout the expedition, there were many times I thought to myself, could I have been here alone? Could I have slept here alone? It was a recce of sorts, an experiment in imagining myself solo in a landscape like this – more challenging and cold and wet than any I’d been in before, especially since my waterproofs failed. Would I have had the knowledge, mental fortitude and discipline to have taken on this horrendous day if I had been alone? Sometimes the answer was yes, sometimes the answer was categorically, no.
The group expedition ended up being full of lessons which helped me understand where and what I would need to work on if I were to do this kind of expedition alone.
Saying all that, there were times I was able to be alone on the trip. Notably, a moment when I was almost stuck on the steep side of the mountain on the descent from the plateau. I sat for a while in the soft heather with some time to kill, the sun shining on my face and wet clothes finally mostly dry, looking out at a mind-boggling landscape that I couldn’t quite grasp.
We’ll be looking to pitch and write in full about the expedition to some publications in the coming months which I’ll share here along with my photography from the trek.
In the meantime, there’s also a short film being made about the expedition – props to the undeniably brilliant filmmakers who got some really beautiful moments as well as some downright hilarious bits.
We are still fundraising post-trip for the film, and if you are in a position to donate, we would be so grateful. You can contribute by using our referral link (code automatically applied) to get 15% off a cute reusable cup or bottle from Klean Kanteen, OR you can donate to us directly via a GoFundMe.
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A bit about me
Hey! I’m Ameena – a writer and photographer based in London. I love to tell stories about adventure, the outdoors, and our relationship with the natural world.