It was a momentous occasion just recently when I gave in and bought myself a new pair of walking shoes. I bought my last pair in 2023 for a long walking trip in South Wales. For about the past six months, the soles have really started to wear thin, meaning I can feel even the smallest stone digging into the balls of my feet.

I’d been researching for ages the best walking shoes but really can’t justify spending hundreds of pounds on a pair. No matter how durable the soles or how supple and breathable the space-tech upper might be, there is a limit to how much I’ll spend on a pair of shoes. So, in the end, I opted for another pair of the ones that had done me a good turn for over 3 years and likely in excess of 1,000km, from a popular large hill storage facility.

If I had to pick the one thing that gives me pleasure over anything else nowadays, then walking would be it. Whether it was a short evening stroll around the block or a long hike along the canal, being able to get out into the fresh air is a welcome respite from the endless responsibilities waiting for me when I get home.

This makes it sound like I have the world on my shoulders – God no! Probably the biggest responsibility I have is putting the bins out on a Wednesday night, and if I can outsource that to my eldest, I will.

Perhaps responsibilities is the wrong word. Maybe these excursions, no matter how short, are simply a way of allowing my brain time to process the day. Yes, that sounds much more like it. After a day or week of meetings, appointments, form filling, and goodness knows what else, a few hours in the fresh air is just the job to clear my head.

Of course, there’s a certain irony with having walking as your preferred way of switching off when you can’t see very well. But you have to go with your strengths. Even so, what should be a simple stroll does require a not insubstantial amount of planning, concentration and at least one leap of faith. Going out for a long walk isn’t without its challenges when you’re reliant on a long white stick but there are ways and means of getting around this.

For example, technology has come a long way, and walking navigation is much better at spotting footpaths and bridleways than it used to be. Combine this with something like smart glasses and there is a reasonably reliable way of getting around on my own.

Of course I try to avoid more worrisome places such as clifftops, but there aren’t many of those in the Berkshire lowlands.

The best tool I have is actually familiarity. I have a few well-trodden trails that I know well enough to explore alone. One such loop takes me through the local woods, down to the village of Tidmarsh and then along the river to Pangbourne before returning home.

The first leg has been disrupted just recently due to preventative ash dieback tree harvesting but I’m slowly reorientating myself. A fallen tree here, a patch of thick brush there, or simply following the curve of the tracks left by the heavy machinery.

Once through the woods, I head down the hill between ploughed fields to a lane. This is one of those typical British country lanes – narrow, two-way, high hedgerows and tight turns, and 60 mph speed limit. This means great care is needed to make the short dog-leg crossing to the next footpath, just a few yards to the left.

From here it’s a straight run through open pasture (which can get tricky between late autumn and early spring), past an old pillbox on the left and then across the river footbridge. There’s another short stretch along a country lane here (literally no more than 25 yards), but then I’m at the pub.

Walking along country lanes always requires significant attention. I try to stay close to the verge, walking facing oncoming traffic as the Highway Code advises, and stopping whenever I hear a car coming. The last bit isn’t strictly necessary, but when I’m reliant on a sweeping cane to find the potholes and drain covers, the last thing I need is a damaged cane. Not only would that put paid to the rest of the walk, it would essentially leave me stranded in an extremely dangerous position. Best to stop for a few seconds and let the car pass.

Many people are unaware that, when it comes to white cane users, we aren’t simply given a stick along with our Certificate of Visual Impairment and told to get on with it. A trained Vision Rehabilitation Specialist, helps us learn the best way of using a cane safely, recognising hazards and navigating independently. As well as being told never to cross a road in front of an idling car, we are often advised to stop and “pop up” our cane (which means holding it straight up) when we sense a cyclist, scooter user or something similar nearby. The reason for this is twofold – it stops a potentially harmful incident if my cane were to accidentally catch a wheel and it avoids a damaged cane.

I am always listening out for potentially risky situations, but sometimes you miss them. With more electric bikes and scooters around, very often by the time you become aware of them, they’ve already zoomed past. I really wish there was a wider awareness of the dangers and more cyclists and scootists (is that a word!) made a point of communicating their presence. A simple ring on a bell is all it takes.

It’s a short walk from Tidmarsh along the River Pang to Pangbourne. This riverside footpath can be impassable following heavy rain. However, there’s been so little rain this year that the path is perfectly passable. In fact, the river is dangerously low at points. I follow this path until it reaches a T-junction. Left takes me up to the main road or right across the footbridge into the meadow.

You can go either way, but I prefer the quieter countryside route which takes me down to a private road and brings me out on the high street.

This is about halfway distance (roughly 4km) so takes me just under an hour. If I time it right then I have a couple of options for food. I can grab one of Green’s the Butcher’s awesome homemade sausage rolls, choose from the enormous selection of cheeses at The Cheese Shop for a cheese and chutney roll, or stop off in Nino’s for a fresh Italian coffee and a prosciutto and mozzarella toasted ciabatta.

From here I walk along the main road past the petrol station and cross at the zebra crossing outside the primary school which I find from the tactile paving leading me to the kerb. I can then walk down the side of the newly rewilded wetland to the railway tunnel and then back along beside the railway line to Purley. After this it’s a simple stroll along the main road back home.

Getting out for a few hours alone is my way of forgetting about the stresses of the week. I used to dream of being able to tinker with a car or two, or be creative with some home renovations but those days are long gone. I simply don’t have detailed enough vision to adjust a set of points or wire an RJ-45 network connector.

I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to enjoy these walks independently. It may be years. It may be less. There’s little point in dwelling on something I just cannot control.

For now, though, I’ll keep lacing up my shiny new shoes, grabbing my cane and slinging my backpack over my shoulder. After all, there’s still plenty of countryside out there to explore.