Making the journey a part of the adventure is something that deeply appeals to me in an age when we can hop on a plane and be on the other side of the planet in a matter of hours. In focussing only on the destination there is none of the gradual shift from one culture to another, our bodies are jolted out of their natural waking rhythm and there is little perception of the vast distances that may have been travelled. And that isn’t even mentioning the environmental impact and energy consumption of flying…or the chance meetings and personal connections that so often happen when we slow down and stop rushing to get somewhere else.

I reckon that whether the destination is near or far, the journey and travelling slowly can be just as fulfilling as the destination. Or maybe there is no destination at all and the journey is everything. It doesn’t have to be complicated, it could be going no more than a few miles from home but the act of walking, slowing down, absorbing all the nuances of passing surroundings and above all allowing my mind to slip into rest is something I can’t imagine living without.

Two very different journeys during the last 6 months have both been an opportunity for me to slip into some slow travel that I was craving for the sense of time and space it always brings. And despite rain of biblical proportion, storm warnings and snow it all worked out with perfect serendipity!

In September we jumped on the ferry and headed off to Europe, arriving in Amsterdam in the early morning to spend a day there before catching the overnight train to Prague to meet Czech friends. From there the plan had been to continue by train to eastern Slovakia and into the mountains in search of bears and wolves…instead storms and torrential rain drove us south, exploring the forests, canyons and rock formations of Bohemia on foot before passing into Austria and the lure of the Alps to hike through high pasture and mountain passes.

The simplicity of life on the trail, putting one foot infront of the other all day, basic essentials carried on my back, sleeping outdoors in a wild camp of our choosing or in rough mountain shelters and huts, stopping to draw, drinking from mountain streams, waking in the chill of dawn, star-gazing, camp cooking, lazing on a summit, paddling to ease tired feet, daydreaming, snacking, tea from a tin mug, afternoon snoozing under open skies, only the sounds of nature…no wifi, no phone signal…deep and luxurious rest for days and weeks that stretch out blissfully.

The only question is how many sketchbooks is too many when I know I will have to carry them for weeks on end. It’s almost always a case of erring on the side of caution and cramming in just one more, which I may come to regret when I’m sweating my way up a seemingly vertical mountainside but never regret when I get back down again.

Glacial lakes, meltwater and high peaks of the Austrian Alps

Dawn breaking after a night of heavy rain during which we camped under a lean-to shelter in the southern Czech forests, days in which we saw nobody else on the trail

More recently, just a couple of weeks ago, it was time for another little bit of time out - because that’s what these are really - an opportunity to step away from the noise and chatter of the every day, of being connected constantly, of outside concerns. Time to be with myself or with people I love and want to spend uninterrupted time with. Time to let ideas drift in and out of my mind. Time to ponder. Time to not have to think about anything in particular.

This time it was a journey by ferry and on foot in the Hebrides, the weather came in, ferries were cancelled, plans had to change. But with no clear schedule to begin with, every change could be taken lightly and new plans formed or were let go of with every change of the wind. Thanks in particular have to go to one cheery local who bundled us into the back of his transit van when we were trudging along a particularly exposed bit of road during a horizontal blizzard and delivered us, giggling at the ridiculousness of it all, to our destination of an equally exposed beach where we planned to spend the day.

Drawing the increasingly wild seas that would cause the ferries to be cancelled for the next several days

Open moor and mountain, fresh snowfall and my fairly ancient pocket watercolour box - I’ve had this since I was in high school!

I decided I could afford to carry a drawing board and more materials for this trip as the walking distances were shorter and less mountainous….glad I packed the thermals though!

Maybe, like me, this is something you need or are looking for as a way to find deep rest and the quiet for your own thoughts to make themselves heard. A long journey isn’t always possible, although I relish it when it is. A walk down to the shore, the river or the woods is just as good, a day in the hills or a wander to the end of the garden can become just as good a journey to feed my creativity, just as long as I slow down, look and really see, listen, feel, absorb, sink into rest.