Walking to observe and notice

Off the beaten path

Not down the usual walking route did I ply but rather down the Ashton Canal towpath from Paradise Wharf to Islington Wharf between which mechanical cranes and hoists of history have become monuments of the industries that once thrived here. Now, we have bijoux apartments and waterfront properties, a kind of exclusivity not nearly as exciting as it seems apart from when the canal forms an aqueduct over Store Street.

The further straight on this towpath leads to isolation, but for a sunny day, many are walking in groups to and fro, a kind of busy that is usually reserved for football match days but let us not be distracted from our surroundings and the oncoming traffic of senseless cyclists. The numerous canal locks holding back water as overflows give a sense of life.

Nature in many guises

Life in ducks, geese, and birds, they all are quacking, honking, or singing, in unison, separately or a disordered cacophony, not in need of the marshalling of a choirmaster. The music of nature is more settling than the blaring of headphones in covering your ears that you are totally unaware of what or where you are. If only they could just pocket their mobile phones for a moment and see something else.

One man and his dog, that dog a beast instead giving the person a status of terror for he could earn fear masquerading as respect no other way, then another dog, fluffy and friendly being called away from a couple sitting for a quiet talk. Just before you saw the fouling of the path, and I suspect the beastly dog, for the owner at one look did not appear the civil kind, yet, I have been wrong making such judgements.

A sport to thrill

Even as I have not decided how much further I want to go, I probably will go as far as this towpath will take me, my height is many times challenged by the low arches of bridged straddling the canal, I stoop or bow as I walk keeping an eye for some who care nothing for other users of this way.

Walking at speed, I pass another couple whilst resisting the urge to eavesdrop and then to my right over the canal is the Etihad Campus, with the football stadium of Manchester City Football Club and I recall when I could not persuade my best friend, a Manchester United fan to walk into that ‘abominable’ sanctum, though he might have had considered visiting for a local derby, I’ll ask.

Love in the park

One more bridge to duck and the windy path veers off the canal and I am presented with the entrance to Philips Park and I have not been here in years, many years at that. Two men have been ahead of me all the while, interesting from my perspective and something about them suggests more than meets the eye.

Into the park, they walk, down one of the more secluded routes that goes by the culverting of the River Medlock, the handiwork of brutal Victorians, that defines the boundary between the park and the cemetery. I am not following or trailing them, but I am just slightly behind them, then they touch and hug, I knew it all the while. They are getting more affectionate and honestly, why should I be shocked?

Just as I turn to cross over the River Medlock into the Philips Park Cemetery, they are now making their way back towards the park and in a moment of overwhelming passion, they embrace and kiss, that remains for a while or it is my persistence of vision deceiving me, for in that moment, I see love and think of love, then I wonder when Brian and I will walk about again, and give this spectacle to another narrator.

Coronavirus streets in Leeds - XLVI

Waterways and memories

Out of my hotel, I veered left and round the back over the road and I was on the Leeds & Liverpool Canal and about to ply the Aire Valley Towpath that I last walked some 5 years ago. I might have taken more advantage of the sunny day, but I lazed in bed catching up on some much-needed sleep that I did not get out until well after 5:00 PM.

Memories distilled from the past into my mind, the recollection of things I gave a fleeting glance and of events that have left too much of a mark that they cannot be forgotten. From the centre of Leeds that canal runs on a higher plain under much human control and was used for the transport of goods and materials in industrial times. Now, leisurely or homely narrow canal boats use it, navigating 91 locks. 

Lower down to right, some 50 metres away as one bears west of Leeds is the River Aire, untamed and unruly, prone to flooding, unnavigable for commercial purposes and a work of nature in its awesome display. I would surmise the river provided power and the canal, transportation.

Paths lonely and free

The towpath was quiet with not that many walkers, a few joggers, some walking their dogs, and then the cyclists. It brought to mind the refrain of the song Lonely Road, by Christy Essien Igbokwe from her album, Ever Liked My Person? The general lyrics of the song I cannot recall, nor could I find an online transcription of it.

Lonely Road - Christy Essien-Igbokwe

One dog walker could not be bothered to look where she was going, she was ensconced in her phone, her dog basically becoming like a guide dog for the blind. Others I saw, we being strangers, might mutter a greeting to each other or at the very least diffuse the tension suggesting one is not hostile with a smile.

Apparently similar or similarly apparent

The canal is also part of the coast-to-coast canoe trail from Goole to Liverpool, called the Desmond Family Canoe Trail. About 6 kilometres into my walk at which point, I turned back on myself as the light was fading too, I saw six horses in a field across over the canal running about free in a field with trees.

Down at Kirkstall (Kirk is colloquial for church, I think) at The Ellers were noticeboards facing the canal with sayings and one I took for a time of reflection. “Don’t treat people as bad as they are, treat them as good as you are.” I guess I have some work to do regarding my attitude to some people.

Two men working on a canal boat acknowledged me on my way out then engaged me on my way back. He said, “You remind me of Chris Eubank.”, I said, “I hear that a lot.” Then he hoped I was not offended, I wasn’t, it is just that I was just in exercise apparel and again something found some similarity. His regional accent, I could understand, from another couple, I just chuckled rather than request an encore with an interrogative pardon.

Just over 12 kilometres later, I was back at the hotel, I expect to have a really relaxing and restful night too.