Journalism Student Dara Layton Shares Her Study Abroad Experience Walking Along the Cornwall Coast Path
I went for a walk, no destiny but the journey, when I came upon a miserable man. I do not know his life or his name, but what I do know is, somehow, he missed all that was in front of him that day.
My walk took me along the cliffs of Cornwall, a small village on the edge of England. The coast was made of sharp, imposing cliffs that collided with the Celtic Sea. As I inched closer to the edge, I heard rolling waves crack and smack against solid black rock. When I was finally close enough to see over the edge, the cliffs were so tall they seemed to separate the sea below into a world of its own.
I sat down for a moment, allowing my feet to drape and dangle over the edge, and stared out at the painting in front of me. Before the water turned dangerously white it was surprisingly close to the color of my eyes, more green than blue. If it weren't for knowing where I was, and the slight chill in the air, I might have assumed it was a tropical place.
There were dark clouds in the sky that threatened to pour over but the only moisture I felt was from the sea. The wind carried sea water from the world below to the top of the cliff where I sat precariously perched to soak in all my surroundings.
Later, as I continued my walk through the scene that encapsulated my conversation with the miserable man, I came to the conclusion the Cornwall coast was, of all the things I've seen in my life, the most breathtakingly beautiful.
I walked along a path between impending doom and safety, between the sheer black cliffs and lazy grass hills covered in wildflowers. At one point, the path began to turn away from the sea and led me closer to a few small houses.
This is where our story truly begins.
I was quickly greeted by a very energetic dog who seemed to be having the time of his life. He ran up and down the path, jumped over logs and chased a few stray seagulls. A few moments later, a man came into view, he was of average height and slightly on the more plump side. His shoulders were slouched, and he seemed to walk with a little pessimism in his step.
Eventually our paths crossed. I smiled, gave his dog a loving pat on the head and said hi, as one does to be polite. I was about to comment on the beauty that surrounded us, but the miserable man beat me to it.
“Some days are just a miss, aren’t they?” he said as he kept walking in the opposite direction.
I stood stunned at the man's comment, surely we were looking at two very different things.. He could not possibly be talking about the very scene I had been gawking at seconds earlier.
Where had his sense of awe and wonder gone? Had it ever existed? Or did it disappear throughout the years as he experienced life? Would I lose my sense of awe and wonder? Was it a choice?
Pondering, I continued my walk and more intently than before absorbed all I could about my surroundings. Not only did I focus on the inherent beauty of the world around me, I also focused on the beauty I could create.
As the wind played with my hair, I noticed it was singing a sweet soft melody and as I walked, in time, my footsteps became the harmony. As the path led back towards the sea, I noticed seagulls drifting in the wind and quickly realized they weren’t just drifting with the wind, they were dancing to its melody.
As I listened to the music of the world and danced in the wind with the birds, I made a vow that day; no matter where I go and what I see it will always hold a sense of beauty and wonder to me.