An autumn walk

My watch gently buzzes me awake. I read a few blog posts on my phone, while staying under the warm covers. Then it’s time to rise; it may be a lazy Sunday, but we have plans. I get washed, dressed, have breakfast and quickly review my camera’s settings, * as I haven’t used it in months. After my obligatory fifteen minutes of resting, we go outside. My partner unplugs the car, we get in and take off towards the woods.

An older gentleman wearing klompen (wooden shoes) is cycling towards us. Apart from him, the village is mostly deserted: it’s church time. At the edge of town, we spot the first few trees in fall colours. A promising start of our outing. The parking lot at the beginning of the trail is a lot more crowded than usual, it must be because of the school holidays. We start on one of our customary routes and I take a quick shot to kick start my camera handling muscle memory. The morning sun peeks through the cloud cover, which is very welcome, as we haven’t warmed up yet.

I love the variety of this route: there are fields filled with heather (where we are now), paths through the forests and open fields graced by monumental beech trees, followed by more winding trails through the woods. There’s a distinct but pleasant smell of damp leaves in the air. The last few days have been rainy, but today we have none of that wetness. We don’t spot any of the typical red and white mushrooms, * but there are plenty of others, popping up on fallen tree trunks or on the moss covered ground. I’m not the only one on the lookout for nice shots: there are two other men sitting close to the ground, focused on their camera screens, with their dog happily running in circles around them. There’s simply too much to capture: everywhere you look, the surroundings are picturesque.

As we enter the forest proper and leave the open heather fields behind, we notice it’s a lot chillier under the tree cover. I spot a nice group of mushrooms and move closer to take a picture, following the example of the photographers-with-cute-dog we met earlier. As I’m framing the shot, I hear a lot of shouting—a horde of middle aged men on racing bikes zoom past. Apparently, it’s customary in the cycling community to announce the size of your squad at the top of your voice, every time you pass by someone. We greet an elderly couple, who also seem to be a bit shaken up by the sudden stampede (and have a very cute dog as well!). The forest opens up to a lane of beech trees basking in the sun.

Recently, I’ve learned a cool fact about beech trees. * Because a lot of animals love the taste of beech nuts, the survival of the species as a whole is at stake: if all the nuts would get eaten, that means that there won’t be any new growth in the following year. To combat this, the amount of nuts that are grown is kept artificially low by the trees, in most years. Then, in so-called mast years, there is a huge increase in the amount of beech nuts that are produced. The animals that eat them simply can’t keep up with the surplus, thus ensuring the survival of the beeches. The most astonishing aspect of this—to me—is the scale of communication among the trees. The beeches coordinate the mast seasons over distances of hundreds of kilometres. They’re truly in it together.

Back to our walk now. The lane of beeches is also conducive to running: there’s a large group heading towards us. It’s cold enough to make their breath steam in the air, adding to the autumn vibes. I try to capture the leaves falling from the trees, backlit by the sun—the camera can’t do it justice. All the while, my partner patiently waits while I try to nail the focus. We follow the yellow-painted pole which marks our route and find ourselves in a large open clearing. This also means we’ve made it to roughly two thirds of the walk— I’m sure my breath is steaming by now as well.

We take a well-deserved break on one of the benches, which look out over the huge, monumental beech trees. I think back to a few months ago, when I could only make it for a small tour around this field. I’m happy and grateful to be able to walk the full 2.5 km of the “short route” again. A pair of runners seem to appreciate the circular path around this particular field—I didn’t keep a careful count, but this must be at least their third circuit around the trees. I’m sure they’re training for a particular distance as well.

After my smartwatch gives the all—well, mostly—clear, we’re good to go again. We enter the forest and take a left turn. There, we’re greeted by the older couple with cute dachshund we had met earlier on the walk. The man tells us that we should buy them a drink, if we meet them again today. Their dog seems more interested in the piles of fallen leaves just off the path. In this part of the forest, you can really see the leaves turning towards the orange and red end of the spectrum. Every season has its perks, but the autumn colours are really something special.

Just as I’m taking a picture of some orange-brown leaves, we hear a loud noise of snapping twigs and stamping hooves. We catch a blur of movement and are just in time to see a large stag literally flying across the path, before disappearing again in the undergrowth. It’s over in a flash, but the glimpse we’ve caught of his antlers and strong legs was truly majestic.

We continue on the final stretch of the route and see no further signs of the local wildlife, apart from the sides of the road: wild pigs have been digging there for the juiciest mushrooms. They’ve overlooked a pretty white specimen and I take the last picture of the day. We’ve made it back to the car, where a tired dog is being given a drink of water from a special bottle, that can (barely) accommodate his large tongue. Water drops are flying everywhere, sparkling in the sun. We wave the dog and the forest goodbye. This has been a wonderful day.