Collective memories from Lauren W, Nic, Amelie, Chloe and Hana. Documented by Hana and Chloe.  (Use the interactive viewer below to zoom in and get a closer look at the map)

​Day 5 THE FIELD OF MANY OWLS 'Conquering fears by walking past the bull while singing to appease the cows.' Foraged apples, pears and blackberries. 'Energetic scouting then hysterical tiredness.'  Joined by new members of the group. 'People being physically unwell.'

Day 6  THE FIELD THAT SWALLOWS PEGS  Our first rest day. We disperse, spend days in town, then are pulled back together in the field. ​'Watched by the willows.' 'Family constellation magic.'   We met a hunter and willed the wild animals to run away. 'Walking bare foot in the mud.'

Day 7  THE FIELD OF WEAVING THREADS Our second rest day. 'Uncertainty, confusion, big emotions' .'Tears and someone's hand on my head.' Group decision making. Chips in the pub. Silent walk home. 'Beautiful evening singing'

Day 8  BELAS KNAP CAMP 'Headless pheasant'. We sleep next to an ancient burial ground. Some take comfort through connection with ancestors, others are terrified by images of sacrificial children and murder. 'Listen to the sounds of civillisation.' 'Gratitude for being able to make fire in the rain.'

Day 9  THE CLEAVE IN CLEEVE COMMON 'It's been this way for hundreds of years!' We are awoken by the sounds of banging pots and cries of 'Get off my land!!' 'The fleeing fox.' 'The vulnerability of the wild.' ​In the golf club, we look at the notice board replete with notices on 'vermin control' and the 'problem' of mouse poo on the green. 'Tiny mushroom standing in a well trodden path.'

Day 10  THE RISING SUN CAMP 'Gratitude for permission and being welcomed' We stay in a field owned by the Rising Sun pub. Sheltering inside, we dry off and reflect on our time together.  'Trepidation of going back to civilisation after connecting with the wild.' Leaving ceremony. 'The sounds of traffic.'

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Our 10 day walk in the Cotswolds was certainly challenging. We faced rain, darkness, illness and hostility in private land and chocolate-box towns. It was also extremely powerful and moving. These challenges created the perfect context in which to experience the resilience of community. We supported each other to ride the waves of emotion, and together, found solutions from moment to moment. ​

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Written by Chloë Lund

​On Monday 30 September 2019, 8.30am, myself and a group of 6 other walkers witnessed what we have cause to believe was an illegal hunt on Cleeve Common, Gloucestershire. ​
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We were alerted by the sounds of horns and hunt cries, soon after we saw about 10 people on horses, several wearing the classic red hunting jackets, and around fifty hounds. We saw the hounds scour the land, including private property and the Commons, where the bylaws state that no dogs are allowed to run off lead. We saw a fox running out of the private woodland, and a case of guns attached to the hunt buggy. Observations of the hounds' behaviour suggests that they were not following a scent trail.*

We contacted the ranger. He told us he was unaware of the hunt. This is surprising as we'd seen him drive up through the common minutes before we heard the first calls.  Later, he told us that whether any hunt had permission was 'above him'. 

We alerted the police who sent two officers down to meet us. They were patient and diplomatic and asked us to email them any video evidence, which we did. They spoke to the ranger, who deflected from the issue by wrongly accusing us of camping on the common. Then, a member of the golf club, Mr New, approached us as we spoke to the police. He said 'You haven't got a problem with my hounds have you?' He then asked us to mind our bags on the green, remarking 'I love my golf almost as much as I love my hunting.'
 
Over the following weeks I repeatedly contacted the police, quoting our crime number, and was told the rural and environmental crime officer would return my call. He never did. I eventually got through to him via his extension number. He passed me back over to the police who said that no action had been taken, citing the fact that they apparently hadn't received the video footage from us as the reason for this. 

The Commons’ authorities also denied having granted permission for the hunt to take place that morning. Initially, they replied to my enquiries with the ominous statement:  “We have no knowledge of hunting activity on the Common.”  They later backtracked, saying that as Cleeve Common - a designated SSSI – is in fact privately owned, the owners were at liberty to decide what activities could take place there. However, hunting wild foxes with a pack of dogs is illegal, regardless of permission a landowner. Cleeve Common Trust refused to disclose the names or contact details of its owners.
 
The North Cotswold Hunt denied any association with this hunt party. The Cotswold Hunt refused to comment.

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* Firstly, that the dogs spent so much time in the private woodland where the owners had not given permission for the hunt (or scent) to pass through. Secondly,  we saw the hounds circling and disappearing for over 10 minutes in a small copse on an adjacent farm. When we called the owner of this farm, they had no knowledge of a trail being laid, or indeed any hunt on their land. Input from people with direct expertise on /experience of trails hunt welcome.

I am not an advocate for the philosophy behind private land, so it felt strange to be getting all up on who has permission to be where. But I do believe in accountability. And I’ve seen crimes with much less frivolous and cruel motives, crimes with less blood spilt, that have been chased and followed up and pursued and prosecuted by the police.
 
It's hard not to see the resonance with the wider issues of accountability and inequality we have in our society. Where in general, the more comfortable you are, the more you are permitted to mistreat others and break the law.
 
The hunt was quite a remarkable thing to see. It called to mind history of king's men on horses, of battles, of our long history of hunting. It also brought up fear of people who want to hold onto a history of glorified violence and oppression, and who use the way things have been as a justification for the way things should be now. I personally look forward to the day when we look back on our exploitation of non-human creatures as barbaric. ("Run little fox!")
 
The Cotswolds is painted as this quaint picture book place. Well I’ve never seen so many guns in all my life as I did there. Just sayin! 
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These last months I have been listening to the podcast "How to survive the end of the world" by adrienne maree brown and Autumn Brown, two sisters and science fiction writers (among the many incredible things they bring to this world). The podcast is about: learning from the apocalypse with grace, rigor and curiosity.

I have never really thought about apocalypse, i have felt like my world has ended before but i never framed it like an apocalypse.

Apocalypse comes from the Greek word apokalyptein and translates; uncover, disclose, reveal. In the Cambridge dictionary it is defined as "a very serious event resulting in great destruction and change."

So I have been thinking, continuously inspired and challenged by the Brown sisters to think, and in this case, to think specifically about the end of the world, and what that could look like if it didn't look like the picture above.

Autumn and adrienne talk a lot about skills and practices that inform and enable survival, how tradedy tends to bring people together rather than pull them apart and against each other (until the state steps back in that is).

I've been thinking about Land in Curiosity and apocalypse: What will our role be in the coming (and already happening in many places in the world) apocalypse? I am pretty certain now, there are many more to come. We are facing such an extreme global ecological crisis and a mass extinction.

I've been thinking about what it means to live wild for a year:

to establish a nomadic community,
to sleep under the stars, the clouds, under simple structures,
to carry everything we need,
to cook on fires made with wood collected from the forest floor,
to learn to identify, responsibly harvest and prepare wild food,
to be constantly on the move, moving, walking,
to be meeting change consciously, daily, as a norm,
to engage with and be inspired by those we meet,
to be deeply affected by the land, by animals, plants, trees,
to build deeply interconnected relationships with our fellow travelers,
to sing together, to be woken by song each morning,
to swim and wash together, naked bodies belonging,
to create our own learning pathways,
to follow our inspirations, our flame, our passion,
to grow our capacity for honesty, accountability, conflict, care, community,
to learn what we want to learn, what we love, away from institutions,
to sleep through frozen nights, together warm and snuggled.

I've been thinking: all of this is apocalypse survival, we are learning to thrive in conditions that we may have to start considering everyday, that right now many of us don't have to think about.

I am grateful for this re-frame, for the apocalyptic voices of the Brown sisters, my view is twisting from one of zombies and guns to one of opportunity, abundance and collaboration. My view is twisting from the Cambridge definition of apocalyptic disaster, to root of the word: uncovering, revealing.

I feel resilient learning and growing with LiC, I feel I am growing skills for life whether apocalypse comes or not.

And who knows... we might have to keep walking forever.

Land in Curiosity was invited to join the Classroom Alive Bootcamp in August this year. Here are  reflections from some of the LiC team.
Big thanks to Lauren Goodey for putting the video together.

During our last days we created a map on the beach of our journey as a part of our reflection, it ended up being about 500m long, and it was such an amazing process to go back through the two months we spent together, local walkers were passing and pointing and asking questions about what we had been up to. I took notes and drawings from the beach, and since then Joana and Chloe have been helping me map out the journey and turn it into a crazy drawn journey, so here it is!

I was a curious going into this two month walk about the culture that we might create together or should I say the culture that may evolve between us with such a long time living out in the woods. How would our natural surroundings shape the way we spent our time? And what we held sacred?

Before setting out on the trip I had set myself all sorts of intentions and personal practices and goals to deepen my connection with nature as well as ideas of ceremonies and processes and games we could do as a group. The intention to explore creating a culture with nature connection at its heart.

I don't think I am only speaking for myself when I say that I wildly overestimated the amount of free time and space I would have once all the practical business of living outside and in community was seen to.Its amazing how much time it takes to collect wood and prepare fires and food and make camp and to have time to be together as a group and share practical matters. I want to reflect on all the things we did do to honour the spaces we lived in. I should say as a disclaimer that we were a group of 13 (a number prone to fluctuation) and I can only speak from my own perspective. Never the less....

Having now rejoined the fast paced whizz and whirligig of cities and smart phones and emails and flushing toilets and kettles. I feel I am in a good position to reflect a little on the "culture" we created living close to the land.I have come to see that those practical tasks I speak of, eating up all our time, actually offered such a wonderful and immersive opportunity to connect to nature. If we wanted a cup of tea we needed to find a river or a spring, suitable dry wood, a safe place to have a fire and some herbs or chaga to brew. If we wanted to have a poo, we needed to find a suitable spot which might be in need of some fertilising, dig a hole with our hands like a badger (some of us may have used the trowel but I usually didn't have the foresight or time to locate the toilet bag) and find a soft patch of moss to wipe our chilly bums. If we wanted to wash we needed to pluck up enough courage to plunge ourselves into the nearest icy cold stream, lake or ocean and endure the burn long enough to for the water to wash away some of the stink from our pits. And then bask in the sun or create our own in the hearth to warm and dry ourselves. If we wanted to wash clothes we were dependent on the sun and enough time to dry (which is why most of us explored the limits of how many days/weeks it's appropriate to keep wearing the same pair of pants). If we wanted to have something other than rice and lentils for dinner we would have to go hunting for tasty mushrooms, wild salads and yummy berries, remembering little by little the long lost art of gathering wild foods.

Each of these tasks offered an opportunity to immerse ourselves in our surroundings, to accept her gifts, an opportunity also for gratitude.There were other ways in which we honored the land, ways that might be considered more "cultural". We often had gratitude circles where we shared things we were grateful for. Singing became such a beautiful part of our group time, one of us would volunteer each morning to do the morning wake up song, of the songs that became favorites, most of them contained prayer and praise for the natural world or the elements. Most mornings before setting off on our walk we would make space to each spend some time In silence and solitude to thank our camp and other than human hosts. On several occasions we made mandalas and spoke out our intentions and gratitude to do with our relationships to the land.

Most of all, the way I see it, we praised the land by living upon it in such simplicity, by accepting it's gifts; it's delicious berries, ice cold water, the stunning light shows in the tapered ends of each day, contrasts of colours, bright red lingon berry upon ashen green lichen, it's songs and it's silence and its delicious array of fungi to feast upon.

By living this way I can say for myself I have continued to rekindle an age old connection, It is the simple things in life where there is the most beauty to be found and in sharing this with others comes the kind of culture I hope to live in. If there is something I have gained from this experience it is a deepening of that very simple understanding.

Here's a praise to all the beings over the 2 months that have fed me, body and spirit and to all the human beings who's companionship kept my heart warm in the frost.

I love to draw, and i also love stories, and I couldn't find a better way delve into the mythical adventures of our journey than by doing these two things. Doing these drawings helps me to reflect on what I have been a part of, to see the myth and magic in it all, to alter and shift my perspective from the factual 'this is what happened' to 'Wow, was that happening too?!?' to reinspect my life, looking at how i relate to others and the world around me.

So here is a culmination of some of the many magical stories, adventures and images that came to me, inspired by the land, people, birds and animals and the magical mystery in between us all.
These are all based on true stories.

Håkan was sat on the toilet when the alarm went off. He had spent a long evening in the sauna and was feeling rather blissful. He decided it was probably him who set the alarm off so he decided to run away. He ran down the gravely track in the dark. That's when the huskies started to howl, and the swirls in the sky went from black and red to blue and grey. He turned around to see a large pack of dogs with bright blue eyes chasing him. Their teeth were snarling and they had blood dripping from their jaws. Håkan's eyes grew wider and wider and his steps became faster.
The alarm stopped and the huskies turned around and headed back to bed. Håkan was safe once again.

One morning I opened my eyes and peeked over the edge of my hammock to see the almond eyed mandolin player stood on a carpet of berries. "zzzzzzzzzzzziiiippppp. zzzzzzzzzzzziiiipppppppppppp." He pulled tight his shoe laces. He pulled them so tight they stretched to the top of his head. He held his laces in his hands as he continued his walk across the carpet of berries.

Me and tom also turned this one into folk song, i'll try and find a recording!

Loz and Chewy were hungry. They had been delivered a pot full of delicious food earlier that evening, by an old man with long grey hair. They looked everywhere for the pot, but it was nowhere to be found. "Maybe he tricked us?" "Maybe he took the food away?" "Maybe he wasn't real!" they confusingly proclaimed. They decided to find the missing food. They walked through the forests, it was dark and the moon shone faintly. They crossed the great river, large fallen trees and made their way through spiky bushes, but they couldn't find the food anywhere. They headed back along the gravely track and heard a quiet noise deep in the pine forests. They walked towards the noise and saw a tall tall tree they knew very well. They gently threw their arms around the tree and held it silently, and the tree wrapped it's branches around them. When their arms fell, they found themselves still and tall and rooted. They could feel the moonlight on their bark. The forest was black and still and silent, apart from a faint noise in the leaves, a gentle rustling and snuffling. A large boar slowly appeared in a patch of moonlight, it snuffled around what was once their feet, and noticed nothing of the three trees that stood silently tall.
Hours and hours had passed and the moon had moved across the sky, when one of the trees moved it's arms and shoulders and stepped onto the forest floor, continuing on the quest for the missing food. The other two trees gently wrapped their branches around each other and stared up at the moon. They leant against each other, breathing, their roots holding them tall.

The rain was pouring in the park by the lake in Mora. Seven bodies were huddled under a tarp holding each other close, sheltering from the pouring rain and the cold. The man in the middle of the huddle was weeping, his heart so opened with grief. His sounds flew to the furthest sides of the lake announcing to the world his pain. Around him, sat brothers, lovers and friends, who held him and wept and breathed. They breathed the deepest breaths they could find.

When the sun rose that morning the man was gone, just a slither of moon could be seen as hundreds of jackdaws took to the skies.