The great outdoors
Why we all need to go outside more
This week’s newsletter is inspired by Losing Eden: Why Our Minds Need the Wild by Lucy Jones, a wonderful data-driven deep-dive into the power that nature has over our mental health, and why we should protect the wild at all costs.
When my Mam was dying of cancer in early 2019, all she wanted to do was see the sea.
The family home sat 700 metres from Whitley Bay beach. If you’ve not had the pleasure of visiting Whitley Beach, imagine a Blue Flag-awarded stretch of golden sand with a lovely promenade and art deco cafe. The area is flanked by amusements, fish and chip shops, a decommissioned lighthouse, and the Grade-II listed Spanish City dome.
Often overlooked by neighbouring Tynemouth Longsands, Whitley Bay holds a special place in my head because it’s where I grew up.
A keen outdoorswoman, my Mam had both National Trust and English Heritage memberships. She spent her weekends hiking up Simonside, sniffing rhododendrons at Cragside and watching my nephew discover the wonders of Housesteads Roman fort.
When she fell ill with pancreatic cancer in January 2019, her physical health rapidly declined. She went from walking every weekend to struggling with the easy stroll down the street to the beach. And yet, she was absolutely determined to make it to the cliff edge and look out over the tumultuous January waves. She did make it, but it took an hour, and she had to rest on garden walls on the way back. Within a couple of weeks, she was unable to leave the house.
Another vivid memory I have from those final weeks was her sheer determination to visit the Crocus lawn at Wallington Hall. Thousands of crocuses are planted every year at the National Trust site by staff and volunteers. For 2-3 weeks in late winter/early spring, the flowers bloom into a field of vibrant purple hues. My dad drove her out to north-west Northumberland to visit the crocuses for one last time.
While both of these anecdotes carry a heavy emotional weight, I want to focus on the positives. Being raised in a coastal town gave me a strong affinity for the power of the sea. Nothing puts life into perspective more than standing at a cliff edge, watching the wild waves crash against the shore. Even now, I have moved a few miles inland (coastal living is expensive!), I still find myself visiting the beach when I need cheering up.
A 2013 study found that people who live by the sea are happier than those in urban environments, which is great for those who can afford it (more on that later.) The same study does highlight that the propensity to visit the coast has a greater impact on mental well-being than how close you live.
Given my Mam’s love of being outdoors, it didn’t surprise me that she wanted to continue to visit these places. But while reading Lucy Jones’ book, I’ve started thinking about what nature means to all of us - even those who aren’t naturally drawn to the wild.
The book is full of fantastic statistics and data proving the value of nature on our psyches, but what stood out to me most was that we don’t actually need to be in the middle of a vast wilderness to feel the value that being outdoors can bring.
Jones quotes a particularly interesting 2015 study that highlights how looking at “microbreaks” in nature can improve our cognitive functioning - even something as simple as looking at a green roof out of the window rather than bare concrete.
With an increased focus on how different our brains can be from one another, it’s pretty cool that experiencing nature can have such a huge impact on children with ADHD, and ultimately improve their symptoms.
So, why am I writing about this? As a child who grew up by the sea, I benefited from the privilege of visiting the beach whenever I wanted. My parents spent weekends exploring beauty spots in Northumberland and beyond, and I often joined them for walks and picnics. It wasn’t until I grew up and widened my social circle that I realised not everyone could so easily access these natural places.
To visit a National Trust site, for example, you will probably need access to a car and a membership or money for a ticket. Even if you venture to a free place, like local park or quarry, you might need to invest in a bus ticket and an outdoor jacket. There are lots of barriers standing in the way of people making the most of what is rightfully ours to experience. As human beings, we are part of the delicate ecosystem, and yet we do more to damage than nurture it.
Recent events have proven that the power of even a single tree clearly cannot be underestimated. Last month, the illegal felling of a two-hundred-year-old tree at Sycamore Gap sparked a national outcry, with a sentiment of grief sweeping the North East as the reality of a future without this landmark settled in our collective consciousness.
But forever nine comments expressing sadness for the loss of the tree, there was always one along the lines of: “It’s just a tree!”
It’s never just a tree
Our planet is dying, and I do believe that the best way to ensure the future generation doesn’t make the same mistakes that we have is by teaching them about what we have, and how special it is. You don’t need a pricey membership or access to Forest School to do those things (although both are great if they are within your budget). Starting with a walk to the local park or beach, take the time to notice the changing seasons.
Recently, I rather enviously witnessed a flock of geese heading south for the winter, their formation a thing of beauty. It felt like this was one of the first times I’d looked up at the sky for ages. There is so much going on around us, even in urban and suburban areas.
Even as the weather turns, I am going to keep going outside every single day - whether to walk the dogs, go for a run or even just stroll to the local pond and feed the ducks with our daughter.
And from a societal standpoint, learning about the positive mental impact even just the smallest amount of exposure to nature can have on our minds, I feel even stronger about the protection of our natural spaces. Access to the wild shouldn’t be reserved for those who can afford admission, it’s for everyone. There’s little we can do about this as individuals, but as a collective we can continue to support initiatives that protect our outdoor spaces, object to planning applications that seek to destroy them and, ultimately, vote for officials who see the value in what we have left.
Since this whole newsletter is essentially about touching grass, I’ll keep this section short and sweet. It’s now jumper season for the hounds, and they’ve got two new ones to add to their already huge selection.
It’s been a busy week work-wise, but we did make it down to the sea for my birthday weekend and watched the waves crash at the shore in my homeland of Whitley Bay.
That’s all from me this week, see you next Wednesday for more of the same.
Ellen x
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Excellent read, and a wonderful reminder of the soothing effects of nature. I live by the sea (hello from Sunderland!) and a walk with the smell of salt in the air can bring me down from moments of high anxiety. Thank you for sharing this personal story about your mother!
Beautifully written and much anticipated after yesterday's request. xxx