Into the woods

I’ve reconnected with the sport I love and thought I wouldn’t be able to do again. It feels great.

Only eight hours separate these two photos. In the morning we were tying the knot at Brixton Register Office. As night fell, we went our separate ways into the woods at a night orienteering event. The next day, we held our reception on a heritage railway train. Woo-ooh-wooh!

It was orienteering that brought Robin and me together, so it seemed entirely appropriate to celebrate in this way with our SLOW family. South London Orienteers and Wayfarers had come into my life at a challenging time when I was a widowed single parent and needed an outdoor activity with built-in childcare. Other members of the club were happy to share the load and little Rosie made lots of friends, children and adults.

When we met, Robin had been orienteering for more than 17 years. He was, and still is, rather good at it, peaking in 1986 as Southern Nights champion. I was a relative newcomer, having been challenged to try it by my editor at Running magazine. “Don’t be silly, Dave!” I said, “I can’t navigate my way out of a paper bag.” But I managed to navigate my way to Wimbledon Common and have a go.

I liked it! I completed a Yellow course set out for children and beginners, with most of the control points on linear features like path junctions. As time went on, I learned the compass skills to venture off into the woods and find knolls, pits, and the occasional scary woodland sculpture. We travelled across the world to the World Veterans Orienteering championships in Tasmania, where Robin placed 8^th in M40. It was a fabulous adventure for the three of us, except the day I ventured right off the map and found later that I’d been issued with a ‘Pommie compass’ that wasn’t calibrated for the southern hemisphere.

When we moved out of London and up to the Lake District Robin was in his element – lots of brown lines close together on the map signifying steep contours up and down. I was less keen, and gradually dropped out of the sport. As my Parkinson’s took hold it became clear that my days on the Lakeland fells were numbered. I could get up them, slowly, but descents were way too tricky.

Fast forward to our new life in the flatlands of East Anglia. Robin was itching to get out with map and compass again. As the weather forecast was favourable, I asked if I could go along for the ride. I could just go for a walk in the woods, or I could register for a course.

Many Parkies talk about that magic hour when they are so engrossed in something that they completely forget they have Parkinson’s. Adding a cognitive task – map reading – to physical exercise ticks all the boxes for neuroplasticity, the brain’s way of making new connections.  Win-win. I wasn’t worried about time or position, but if you insist, I placed 10/14 on Yellow, Robin 17/40 on Green. We can both be happy with that. I’ll be back.

Main picture credit ©SUFFOC