Sarah Rixham

It's much quieter now that the tourists are gone. The cove is ours again. I can see out across the valley with dim lights coming from the village and occasionally a bright beam scouring then disappearing from cars on the winding road. The sky is clear and scattered with stars. This is my favourite time to highline. Peaceful and calm but also intensifying. Vision striving to make connections to reality. The world is blurred and the edges are soft. My body feels the line starting with my feet, the softness of the webbing as I stand and the edges that fall to the gap below. The gentle adjustments of weight, toe heel transfer in each step. The surprise of movement, the surprise of progress, I never know how it will feel as each time is very different. Unlike walking blind where the mind if forced into the body as there is no other place to be aware, with the night and open eyes they are searching for signs and signals to understand how to balance, but the flashes and dim colour you see can me more confusing than helpful. As I walk I see flashes as meteors streak across the sky. The intensity helps me zone in to the feel of the line, but it feels full of life, the wind whispers to me and the stars give me a cheeky wink.