I am on the plane back from an amazing weekend away visiting a very good friend who lives in the alps in Germany. Great conversation, spectacular views and scouting for wildflowers dominated our time and thoughts. Here are some of my takeaways.
Dominance of man
Following on from my recent week in France, I once again found that the landscape was dominated by man as far as the eye could see. The views were breath-taking, but standing on top of a mountain really does give you a vantage point you wouldn't usually have. And what could be seen was fields, fields, a few houses, and more fields. We could not help but wonder what it might have looked like two hundred years ago when King Ludwig II of Bavaria built his castles.
Making Hay
Many of the fields in the area are used to make hay which means there are more wildflowers than in other areas dominated by agriculture. It is of course positive that the flowers got to grow in the first place but seeing them cut down made me sad. The hay is grown to feed the area's dairy cows. Some fields are of course eaten directly by the cows. Perhaps more stark was the meadow next to where I was staying (see below) which my friend pointed out had been decimated by cows in as little as two two days.
Wildflower friends
Amidst all of this I couldn’t help but be surprised by how many of the flowers were the same as at home. Daisies, dandelion, buttercups, forget me nots, beech trees, hogweed, ground elder, violets, cowslips, wood sorrel. It’s incredible that you can be in another country in an entirely different environment yet the same plants are there. I like to think of it as meeting old friends.
Daisy love
It’s always fun to introduce a new friend to foraging and to see their surprise and delight at the idea that you can eat what is commonly growing all around you. In this instance my friend was shocked to learn you can eat daisies. So she ate one after one and became quite taken with them.
Flying high
The friend I was visiting is a paraglider, so we spent a lot of our time at the top of the mountain waiting for the wind to change to a favourable position. On the first day, flying wasn't possible, but on the second she got to fly for a few hours while I walked down and immersed myself in looking at wild plants.
Hearing the gliders talk about the air really reminded me of how foragers look at the land. Looking for thermal areas, observing turbulence and also the direction of the wind - they are acutely aware of how the air is interacting with the mountain. Some days, the air particles do not align in a way that is conducive to flying. On others, it does. There is something about surrendering to nature that really spoke to me - even if the focus was a different element.
We are all drawn to our own paths. I belong on the ground, for sure, looking at the plants and engaging with them. Others feel most alive in the air.
Back to earth
On my flight back, as the plane descended into Stansted airport, I found myself staring out of the window and contemplating the makeup of the landscape. Of course, here, just as in the German Alps and Bergerac region of the Dordogne, the land is made up almost entirely of agriculture. A few trees are spotted here and there and the odd small plot of forest. But it is dwarfed by agriculture.
And then I had a dream. That in 20 years I would be on a similar flight, descending only to see huge swathes of rewilded land - corridors - allowing wildlife to travel across the country. What a sight that would be.
But how to achieve it?
Reconnecting with the land
I have been reading Gabor Mate's The myth of normal, which explores the disconnect we feel in contemporary society. Gabor says:
"Ancient cultures have long understood that we exit in relationship to all,
are affected by all, and affect all."
It is well known that these indigenous cultures also believed this relationship extends to the land itself.
I had great conversation with a particle physicist friend of my friend upon arriving in Germany about how to change the modern mindset to reignite a real connection with the land. We agreed that this probably needed to be done in a way that could win hearts rather than via some sort of political movement. Avatar was a good example of making people think about what an indigenous connection with the land could look like, but it was one sole example in a sea of marketing and advertising promoting consumerism, addictive behaviour and disconnect with authenticity. We didn't find the answer, but as with all good conversation, I was left with much food for thought.