Here is an extract from diary/notebook made during a 24 hour sit, at Sharpitor, Bovey Valley, Dartmoor, UK. (Monday 20 June 2005)

A steep sided wooded valley predominantly oak and birch but with some hazel, holly and willow near to the river. I sit on an outcrop of rock, high up on the ridge overlooking the tops of all the trees lower in the valley.

9:06am Start silence. Took photo of view from sit spot.After just 10 mins of motionless silent sitting, one’s vision seems more focused. Started to notice more subtle things: How the wind moves distant trees, each species moves differently . Awareness of what is around me to both sides, my sight feels slowed.

30mins or so (no longer feel the need to check my watch) I hear a distant woodpecker just audible above the tree wind. I can just hear the distant river too.

No longer guessing the time – it seems irrelevant.

A hammer being used on a house build site, well over a mile away, shatters the backdrop and is almost swallowing all sounds. It stopped and slowly smaller sounds start creeping back in to perception.

Noticing the patterns in the way trees move in the wind. Not just different species but I am wondering if the terrain itself makes the prevailing wind focused in some areas and sheltered in others. Some individual trees experience the wind gusting and always changing and only 50 metres away, one of the same species lives in a sheltered pocket hardly bothered by any wind at all. I am guessing that over its lifetime, this would affect the growth of the braches and could be read in the tree rings of the wood.

The hues of green have started to become clearly distinct from each other, not just shades of green.
Shoes covered in red mites.

A hobby just swept the valley twice, on its second turn, passing really very close to the rock I sit on. I wiggle my finger and it turned and then turned away sharply, I think drawn to the movement.

Cockchafer beetles keep landing on my cap. First a male then a female. It must be a colour that attracts them?

Hummingbird Hawkmoths.

Grey Squirrel passes by, apparently unaware of my presence, 10 feet from where I sit. This rock really feels like I am sitting in the top of one of the trees overlooking the canopies.

I noticed a mini burst of bird song. Blackcap, robin and a very quick bit of blackbird. Now wren but most have quietened. Chiff chaff and a very distant mistle thrush.

Its early afternoon time now and the ravens have returned to their favourate tall tree on the edge of a nearby copse. They rest out the hottest parts of the day. Everything is very quiet.

Concentrating on all the things that are crawling on my body. Small red spider mites everywhere, very large wood ants, an occasional beetle and one jumping spider has taken residence in the fold of my trouser leg by my knee. Comes out every now and then and walks down my shin and back up.

I have noticed I feel more comfortable laying anywhere now. The notion that there may be undesireable things lurking between rocks and in shady places has subsided. I feel good about taking advantage of these places. Tonight I will sit somewhere protected from the wind.

I am not yet fully relaxed. I am hyper aware of anything slightly out of the ordinary. Not like when you’re scared, just aware of what sounds are normal. As soon as I hear a bird warning call (or in one case a very distant human voice) my senses are straight to it, breaking me from my thoughts.

In the mid afternoon and I heard a squirrel call and it sounded distressed. Another squirrel in its patch? Moments later a tawny owl hoots quite close by and is followed by a wren’s warning ticks of alarm. I didn’t move my head to look in order to not disturb or alert it to my presence. Further down in the wood I hear it again, this time accompanied by a black bird warning.

A rustling at my feet in the dry leaves alerts me. A mouse? More constant than a mouse and seems quite big! Turns out to be a small ground beetle. Volume of sounds seems amplified.

I have turned my back on the view and its scorching sun and am now facing the dappled light of the forest. Light and shadows falling on the page of this book. Both irregular shapes, hazily out of focus and perfectly round discs of light: images of the sun.

I am hungry now, food has become part of my thoughts. Feeling tired.

Having been here for about 8 hours, I feel that everything is just doing what it normally does when there are no humans around. I am no longer part of a disturbance. There are no traces of my upsetting anything left in the behaviour of the creatures around me now. I am humbled to be witnessing what people rarely see. Just things doing their thing. Beings being…

Its now 7:02am and I have just looked at my watch. The sun is still rising and has not yet reached the rock on which I sit. I am still wrapped in my sleeping bag and uncomfortably cold and damp.
The past 12 hours were unsuccessful. I wanted to stay awake and not eat anything but I relented on the fast. Last night around 10pm I felt the cold penetrating my bones. I was wearing everything I have got and was in my sleeping bag but when you have no heat to insulate none of it does any good. I ate some dried figs I brought along just in case. I had some more this morning, after getting damp from the dew and felt hugely better.

The woodland awoke at 3:45am this morning with the dawn chorus and the light levels just rising.
Last night I watched a female roe deer and her fawn playfully jumping in and out of the bracken in a nearby field to the edge of the woodland. The fawn would hide while mother fed and then pounce out on her. Once, she returned the gesture and it made me laugh out loud. They were blissfully unaware of my perched position.
Also this morning, white birds (couldn’t tell what they were) migrating up the valley this morning just before the sun came up. Perfectly white against the royal blue darkness. Silently slipping by, flying in small flocks.
Just for the record.

Even though I have chosen a very isolated spot to sit, yesterday I smelt cigarette smoke earlier in the day and heard snapping twigs and branches and children’s distant voices later in the afternoon.
Is there nowhere to go in England where you won’t encounter other humans?