I’ve loved night walking ever since discovering as an insomniac teen, the delights of being out alone late at night. I’ve never found it especially hazardous – stay away from pubs at closing time, and it’s no riskier than any other activity. I don’t see well in the dark, I lose depth perception in failing light so walking by moonlight is challenging, but possible.
I only walk familiar paths when night walking. In part I rely on my memory of the land to guide me around the hazards I know are there. It’s quite a good test of my relationship with a path if I can walk it easily in the dark and know where I am from non-visual cues. However, I’m also excited by the way in which places change in the dark to become unfamiliar and uncanny.
I’m not easily spooked being under trees at night. I have a pretty good idea what sounds in the undergrowth mean, I don’t find owls or bats creepy so a lot of the horror film standards about scary woods don’t really influence me. I can be unnerved by the feelings of uncanniness that sometimes come on a night walk, especially if there’s a sense of presence not present in the day. Some places do feel more haunted at night.
I find there’s something deeply affecting about being out under the night sky. Feeling the night air on my skin is particularly powerful, and I try to dress lightly if I’m night walking in summer. There is a sense of enchantment, of having the night seep into my skin and my mind. I come back from such walks feeling uplifted and empowered. My sense of magical possibility increases when I spend time away from artificial light.
I’m fortunate indeed in that there are some easily walked paths round here that have no lights on them, aren’t much influenced by roads, nor subject to light pollution. I can walk in proper darkness, by moonlight, I can even experience starlight. The night seems very different when it isn’t glaringly lit. It feels wilder, and being out in it, I feel wilder, too.