Edit - I actually ended up writing a song about this walk. Enjoy! The videos and pics from the clip are, of course, not from the original walk :-)
Vinny had an idea for a podcast. The idea was that although each of us are at a different place, especially now in the pandemic, we will all make a walk to some sort of a "peak" in the city/town where we are, leaving our phone at home. Instead, we'd take an old fashioned notepad and a pen and write down our thoughts - from the journey, from the peak, or any other. In this post, I want to share my experience.
I chose a day during a weekend with not the nicest weather really - I guess had it been nice, I would have gone busking, made a full day bike trip or something like that. But the Sat of 6th of June, I was sitting at home in the afternoon and pondering what to do, when I remembered I am to do this "funny walk", as it featured in my mind. I vaguely recalled there was some rain in the forecast, but "what the heck", I thought, worst case I get a bit soaked and at least it will be a change from the norm.
As I was preparing to set off, my first feeling was that even if I am going to do this by myself (in solitude, defined as "absence of inputs from other minds", as was one of the criteria of the podcast walk), I did not feel that way. It may have been the feeling that maybe others are/will also be doing similar walks, or the knowledge that I will be writing down, and eventually sharing my experience. Either way, this was a pleasant thought.
A bit more weird was the feeling of leaving the phone home. It's funny how I got used to making sure that the thing is in my pocket every time I leave my house, heck perhaps even every time I leave my room and go to the kitchen (heck maybe even every time I go to the loo, which is kind of in my room, as a tiny ensuite)! I subconsciously tapped my left pocket but hah - it was empty! "Right, it's supposed to be empty". Several times I almost slid the phone back into the pocket as part of my "leaving home routine" but eventually I made it outside without the phone. "Haha, addict", some of you may be thinking. But it's not really that I wanted, or needed my phone, it was simply me being so used to having it on me that made it so unfamiliar when it wasn't there. Already the first minutes of the "experiment" were revealing some of this interesting realizations, and I noted them down in the notepad, just a few steps away from my front door.
The next thoughts were a mix of various questions popping into my mind, those that I would normally type into Google. My plan was to go to the Greenwich observatory, and although I knew the way, I wasn't sure if the Greenwich foot tunnel under Thames would be open (as few weeks ago, it was closed due to it being too narrow and thus not adhering to social distancing rules). "How do I check that now without a phone? Hm, there should be DLR as a backup... But does it run? Where is the station?" All these thoughts were suddenly left there on my mind, without a satisfactory answer I would have otherwise got in the matter of seconds. Not only that, I would likely have checked what's the best route according to Google maps, if the weather is supposed to hold, if the park with the Observatory is open, etc etc...
Gosh... Another realization just a few minutes into the walk. By planning with Google maps, checking the weather and all those other searches, the relaxing walk would have probably turned into some sort of "mission to get to the destination". And while that can be useful, if say one is going for a job interview, that was definitely not my case. Nevertheless, if I had my phone on me, I would have likely used it, mainly due to the habit...
It got me thinking about another thing. I consider myself very good at "navigating the world" these days. Since I'm in the data/engineering sector, I know technology very well and because the world is increasingly driven with technology, I consider myself to have slight edge here. It's simple things like knowing easily when arriving message is a spam, or roughly understanding how Google search works and thus knowing what to type in the box. It's probably not much of an edge that any shrewd person would easily get too without a degree in computer science. But it did make me wonder - how would I do in the world if Google suddenly stopped existing. If password managers were hacked. If whole smartphones were banned and one would, from one day to another, be forced to adopt different ways of "navigating the world"...
Another thought the sprung into my mind was a more funny one: "what if someone finds out that I don't have a phone". I imagined myself asking for directions, explaining to people "I don't have a phone.. I mean.. I don't have it on me", them looking at me as some sort of weirdo that just time-traveled from previous century, unable to grasp the reality that "I just can't google it". Now this is a bit of an exaggerated thought, I know, but after a few months here I noticed that Londoners are just pushing the phone usage to the extremes - to the point that if you don't check your phone waiting at the bus stop, you may start to feel weird, for everyone else is doing it... So not having it at all felt kind of like dragging heavy sledges wearing a fur coat and a Santa hat on a beach full of people in the middle of a summer. Simply a bit weird.
Approaching the Thames Clippers station in Canary Wharf, I was woken up from all these thoughts by a sudden sound of a thunder. Looking behind me, the sky was turning nasty grey, leaving no doubts as to what will soon unleash. At the north-west, I could already barely discern the silhouettes of the skyscrapers in London city, such strong seemed to be the rain there.
"No problem", I thought, pulling out my rain jacket. However, soon the wind picked up and a proper madness started: torrential rain combined with storm-like winds and I run for shelter, joining a cyclist waiting under a roof on four pillars, a pretty useless shelter in the crazy winds and rains that blew near horizontally, but better than nothing. After five minutes, the worst had moved on and I looked at my trousers, soaked throughout.
In the decisive moment, I briefly pondered turning back - after all, I was mere 10-15 minutes away from my house - but eventually chose to carry on, feeling that somehow I am supposed to continue this journey and knowing that it will work out ok.
The brutal storm was over, but the rain persisted, although at least now it was pouring mostly from above, and so I resumed walking. What was worse, however, were the lightning bolts which kept lighting up the sky, never leaving more than 2-3 seconds before a loud bang followed, making me feel it's all a bit too close for comfort.
Soon, however, I went back on the Thames path and started to enjoy the walk, now very calm with almost no one around walking in the rain on the river side. Few minutes down the line, I passed a familiar pub - Ferry house - where we recorded most of our very first podcast with Vinny and Alex back in January. Memories came round and made me smile.
The Greenwich foot tunnel was just a minute away and I eyed its entrance to see if it will be open or not, but luckily, the restrictions were now gone and the tunnel was accessible. Over hundred years old, one can feel the tunnel has been around for a while. Every of my step was accompanied by echo and a sudden loud clunking sound came from somewhere in front of me, making me jump a bit and wondering what it was. A few minutes later, almost on the other side, I step on a metal sheet and the same loud bang echoes across the tunnel. An old, mysterious, echo-y underwater tunnel in London. Love it.
As I emerge on the other side, I look back at the skyline of Canary Wharf, with the beautiful post-storm scenery above it, thick grey clouds giving way to clear skies. I half wish I had the phone here for the pictures, but then I realize that I could have simply taken a camera. "Yeah Fero, the one that's been sitting on your shelf, unused for a good couple years now", but which suddenly seemed like such a no-brainer to take for trips like this...!
The rain picks up once more as I climb up the hill to the Greenwich observatory at the "peak". I half expected, half hoped that I'd get to enjoy the views alone at the top, but a few other people had similar ideas. Three Asian girls seem like typical pre-pandemic tourists, a British family comes round with two lively kids, a couple sits under umbrella on a near bench and a father with two sons are making pictures, the father making various poses by the railings like some sort of Hollywood model, taking up a good chunk of my view.
Vinny said we should capture our thoughts at the peak. I noticed airplanes flying above through the storm and I wondered where are they going, what would happen if they get hit by a lightning bolt and just how many more airplanes I would have seen if it weren't for the lockdown. I thought about our heavily optimized world and how many jobs are about optimizing it even more, usually so that we can do even more, run more flights, get to our destinations faster... And I thought about the impressive views I saw with the beautiful post-storm skies. It was definitely the best view that I saw for the past few months, and a thought came to me, wondering for how many people is this the best view they will see in their whole lives.
But in general, I have to say I had a bit of a trouble reflecting there, on the "peak", for too long. And I don't think it was because of the other people. I thought of my experience in Nepal, and how I felt when I reached a "peak" or some sort of destination of a long haul there. And I realized something. For me, it was much more about the journey itself. That is the part where I can do my reflecting, and that is also the import part of the trip for me, the one that actually creates the whole experience. The part that, if you think about it, gets you to the peak.
The peak, for me, it's like a cherry on the top of the cake. I just want to enjoy it for a while, ideally with some company. I mean, I don't really tend to do that with cherries on a cake, but a beer would do. Essentially, it's about being with someone to do a high five, snack on a chunk of chocolate or share experiences from the journey.
Still as the "peak", I want to write up my thoughts but it keeps raining and somehow I don't feel like joining a few people sheltering under the roof of the observatory, so I start to head down. Soon enough, the rain ceases and I pull out my notepad and write down a few notes. "This is the end to it", I write with respect to the rain, somehow knowing that with me coming down from the peak, the rain is now gone too, as if it was here only to challenge me in my mission, but now it left knowing it won't beat me anymore. Not really sure how I was so certain that there won't be more of it that day, but I wrote the thought down and I was right.
As I near the entrance of the tunnel at Cutty Sark, I decide to change my itinerary and head north-west, along the south bank of the river. The next foot crossing is Tower bridge, which is over 5 miles away, quite far really, but in the worst case, I can do my first Underground journey in past months, from Canada water to Canary Wharf.
As I walk, I get into my zone and thoughts. Over the next hour or so, I only write a couple notes. One of them is about how I noticed that I am much more receptive to the surroundings today. Normally I would probably stick in headphones into my ears to "use the time I walk more", but now I realized that even if it's "just walking", there can be still a lot to it if one looks around properly.
Another note I write is about the infamous phone notifications - or rather the pleasant absence of them and the urge to check for them. There were moments during the walk when I felt like that, the urge to "check my phone". If I had the phone on me, subconsciously, I think I would have pulled it out, but the sudden absence of the phone in this case was actually quite liberating, and I instead resumed my focus on the surroundings.
For focus I needed to - as I got into Canada Water area, I suddenly realized I'm not really sure where I am. But the river was on my right and so I kept walking, now aiming for the tube station, as I realized Tower Bridge may be pushing it for today, getting quite thirsty and hungry. I stopped at a bus stop to check that I'm going the right way, and the arrows on the map indicated the buses indeed head towards the Canada Water station. About 20 minutes later, however, I realized that I am still in UK and that buses still drive on the left side, so I was actually walking away from the station. The moral: no Google maps --> more fun!
I realized there is actually one more way to get to the other side of the river on foot: the "dreaded" Rotherhithe tunnel. Another 100+ year old under-Thames tunnel, this one I thought of before as Google maps tends to plan my cycling routes through it. But having read some Reddit posts a while ago about it, I wasn't quite sure it's a good idea, with comments such as:
"I've walked through the tunnel once on a drunken escapade - never again"
" I'd rather cycle on the M25."
or
"I have nice lungs and want to keep them that way."
I popped to a grocery store to get a drink and asked the cashier if it's actually possible to walk through the tunnel. His answer was a somewhat curt "yes" which felt a bit ominous, but I decided to give it a go. After a quick Chinese takeaway I entered the tunnel, the sounds of cars passing by being instantly intensified as if I was on a Formula 1 track, even if the speed limits permitted mere 20 miles an hour.
For all I've read about the tunnel, it was not really so bad. True, there was quite a bit of broken glass and torn off wing mirrors (the tunnel's car lanes are super narrow) and it felt a bit stuffy and hot in the middle section, but overall I found it surprisingly ok. As the only pedestrian around, I again felt like a bit of a weirdo (especially with no phone!) but I did not really care.
Back on the north side of London, it was now just 15-odd minutes home along a familiar route, so the roam was drawing to an end. And "what a roam!" was my main thought - for the walk would have surely been much more different and much less fun with my phone on me, perhaps even if I did not actually use it. The enhanced "ingestion" of the surroundings, the unplanned changes of plans, the relaxing nature of noting down thoughts on a piece of paper. I felt some inspiring vibes and a song was already building in my mind, those last couple kilometres.
You may be thinking how ordinary and uninteresting the whole experience actually was and how much I glorify it. "Yeah you got soaked, didn't have a phone and walked through some old tunnel. Is that it?". Perhaps. But it did wonders to my mood that day and I made my mind to do more walks without a phone. Though next time, I'll take my camera. And so there may be pictures ;-)
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