From the train window, I watched the urban sprawl taper away. Each time the cityscape seemed to give way to greenery, another trackside town blurred past. Around level crossings and stations, buildings and signage rose quickly then fell away, extending the gradient into a long, uneven tail.

The sky was an almost immaculate blue, and the morning sun was already strong. I prefer walking under partial cloud cover, but I had gone to some effort to pause the demands of daily life and make myself unavailable long enough for this excursion. The day was mine, the destination entirely of my choosing. I knew precisely how to get there, and little beyond that. Upon arrival, I planned to get lost.

The aim was not to wander irretrievably off track and find myself bewildered. In common with more strictly planned and guided travel, I still wanted to see new things, have memorable encounters, and learn about the place. But at the same time, I wanted a freedom not bound by what must or should be done. I wanted to return to my senses and test my neglected intuition. Getting lost, I had decided, would have some parameters.