Navigating New Adventures - Lisa Spender

Lisa Spender is an ex-Performing Arts teacher from Kent, 🇬🇧 and a founding member and regular leader in our Kent Sole Circle. She is fanatical about maps and has a love of walking and finding new routes in rural and coastal settings. 

I’ve always had a fondness for maps and visual representations—whether it’s a tube map, a mathematical diagram, or a puzzle. I can’t pinpoint precisely when this nerdiness began.

As a child, I was equally drawn to physical activity; I reveled in the simple joy of movement. Dolls and pink fluffy things never appealed to me. Instead, I was always seeking out a tree to climb or a wall to cartwheel along.

My parents would often take us on gentle circular walks through the countryside, inspired by their favorite newspaper. We cherished every adventure, especially when it involved a well-worn stile to navigate!

My love of movement eventually led to a career in contemporary dance. I considered a job as a Benesh Notator—a maker of dance maps—but settled on teaching. This involved a lot of choreography.

I often began with spatial diagrams and ideas for paths in space that would look interesting and convey the theme. I would draw detailed maps to show where and how the performers would move from place to place. 

I began using actual navigational maps in earnest about 15 years ago when I got my dog, Bernard. Fields and woods excited both of us, but pavements did not. I now know that this is common for neurodivergent individuals. The natural world's sights, sounds, and smells were a balm for my overly busy brain.

I bought a local map, and Bernie and I began to explore! The task of working out the route gave me the dopamine hit I was missing. Bernie enjoyed chasing squirrels, rolling in fox poo, and munching on wild salad.

Eventually, Bernie slowed down, and I realized I craved more—a new challenge. One day, I stumbled upon a TV program about a coastal feature called The Street in Whitstable. Though I’d never seen it in person, I recognized it from old maps. I felt an irresistible urge to find it!

After reading The Salt Path, by Raynor Winn, I had a revelation while standing on that narrow spit of land, gazing out at the sea: I would navigate the entire coastline of Kent! Armed with maps, I set off on my adventure.

Along the way, I captured moments with my camera, penned poetry, kept a journal, and attempted some (admittedly poor) sketches.

When I reached the end of my journey, I didn’t stop there; I continued into neighboring East and West Sussex and even ventured inland, eager to explore more.

I wanted to tackle more challenging landscapes, so I signed up for a basic navigation course on the moors of the Peak District—a much harsher landscape requiring a keener eye and greater understanding.

There are things a map can’t tell you: tide times, mud, cows, and things that change from day to day or even hour to hour. Footpaths may be blocked, locked, or even invisible.

Back then, I always walked alone (and still do regularly), but now I also enjoy the company of the like-minded women I have met in my Sole Sister Ramblers Sole Circle. They often laugh (gently) at me with my map and silly hats.

After three decades of teaching, I left 18 months ago, burnt out and numb. I have struggled to find a new direction but have kept returning to maps and walking. They make my heart sing and my feet dance.

I returned to the Wild Moors this summer to complete the harder NNAS Silver Navigator award. The navigation bug has well and truly bitten me (although, fortunately, the ticks and other nasty nibblers have not!)

I have waded around headlands, scaled gates, wriggled under wire fences, lost and found hats, left my shoes in deep mud, got mentally “stuck” on ledges, and been chased by sheep. But most of all, I have found so much joy.

At some point, among the crashing waves, quiet hedgerows, and corn-filled fields, I discovered my new self. I realized that map reading and walking are where my future lies. I am plotting… literally!

My future map is not yet drawn, but I hope it leads to many more exciting adventures (preferably without too many cows).

See you on the trails!!!

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