Some time in spring, before I knew of Max’s existence, I signed up for this photography course (experimental landscape photography). I had been signed up for the same course last year but it was cancelled, for obvious reasons.
For a while after I adopted Max, I was hoping to take him with me, but as time went by, I realised that that was not going to be possible. It is a nearly 12-hour journey in total, door to door, and Max’s limit at the moment on the S-Bahn or a regional train is about 50 minutes before he gets anxious, restless and unruly, for a large part due to the muzzle, I think. Having him with me and running around on those wide beaches would have been great, but getting here – a total nightmare. I then dithered between cancelling my attendance or trying to find a good dog pension for Max. I mentioned this to our trainer, Astrid, and she highly recommended Lucky Dog Berlin’s Hundeferienhof. When it turned out they could accommodate Max at quite short notice and after one getting-to-know-each-other meeting in Grunewald, I decided to strike, despite some people saying it was too early since Max has only been with me a little less than six months. Astrid said it would do him good, that he would get lots of exercise and be around balanced dogs that he can learn from.
Also, I could really do with a break. I love Max, but he is an exhausting flatmate and the last six months have been quite a rollercoaster ride. I know he is in good hands, and I was not even quite aware how tired I was till I flopped into the seat in the ICE to Hamburg, to proceed by two regional trains, a two-hour ferry ride and a short bus trip to get to Hotel Hüttmann in Norddorf. I love train travel, not to mention ferry rides, and savoured every minute of that day, alternately reading, staring out the window, and looking forward to the course. I have attended several other courses with the same teacher and thoroughly enjoyed them all.
Incidentally, I also had a recent cancer scare. Now, nobody goes through life without at least one of those. This was my third, all more than a decade apart. I can barely remember the first one, but I was quite young and I think I mostly thought “why me”? The second time I thought, well, you have been lucky before, so why not also now. But with this one, I really thought my number was up, and spent the days waiting for the result trying to decide whether to accept a gruelling treatment or just get it over and done with as quickly as possible (went for the latter).
Quite apart from the fact that, thanks to the anti-vaxxers, this is no time to be needing medical attention for anything other than Covid19. The capacity is just not there.
I spent a lot of time wondering for how long I would be able to take proper care of Max and whether he would have to go back to the nomadic existence, being shoved around between families who all sooner or later decided they did not want to keep him. Much as the thought of being spared all the indignities of old age, when I adopted Max I was vain enough to think I had till about the age of 75 (so another six years or so) before they set in for real, and that would cover his life span as well, so that we will grow decrepit and die at round about the same time. He will turn eight in the near future (although seeing him sprint, you would not know it).
It all drained me of whatever energy I had left, and that energy, for some reason, did not really come back with the message of false alarm quite recently. Why do we do this to ourselves before even knowing for certain that there is reason to worry? I recently saw a book entitled “Don`t Feed the Monkey Mind – how to stop the cycle of anxiety and worry”. Perhaps I should read it, although I should know what it says after having been through a bout of anxiety and panick attacks shortly before I moved to Berlin. Basically, it all comes down to confronting those feelings and breathing into them, examining them thoroughly. That is the short version.
Anyway, after arriving in Norddorf, I was glad to have two days to myself before meeting with the other course attendants and our teacher. The weather could have been better, but I did manage to walk a total of about 15 km each day – to make up for the relative inactivity and unhealthy eating (railway station fare) on the day of travel.
Day 1: Wittdün and surroundings
Day 2: Around the northern tip of Amrum, from Wattenmeer to the North Sea
The route of this morning’s walk on Mapmywalk.
Quite strenuous, walking in sand a lot of the way, but I saw a lot of wild geese, and three seals :-). And no people.
Day 3: Start of the course
Went out to catch some morning light before starting the course.
I did not understand today’s assignment so I just took these photos when we went out: I walked on top of the Teerdeich and got properly frozen and windblown.
The first three photos are of fellow course attendants spotted from the top of the Teerdeich. Here is the route on Mapmywalk.
Day 4
Woke up to a strong wind, poor visibility and a bit of sleet so decided against the Teerdeich and went to the Badestrand on the North Sea side for my between breakfast and start of the course walk.
Later, we went out and continued experimenting, especially with the low-light and rainy conditions :-). This is where we went.
Day 5
Woke up to rain and a forecast that said warning for gale force wind, and the hotel’s comfortable lounge and a book were calling out my name. But has anyone ever regretted getting up off their fat arse and going out, almost no matter what the weather is like? I certainly always feel a lot less sad outdoors. Also, after breakfast and the theory session, the wind had subsided somewhat and it had stopped raining. Here is the day’s route.
The first photo is the view from the balcony of my hotel room.
The scrolling is starting to annoy me, so will continue in a new post above.
