Times and Places without the Usual Landmarks

Times and Places without the Usual Landmarks

Future Reflections Winter 1996, Vol. 15 No. 1
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5. Times and Places without the Usual Landmarks
Grocery Stores
If I am going alone, and I know what I want and where it is, I find
movement easiest with my cane in front while holding the front end of
the grocery cart and pulling it behind me. It steers better that way.
If I am shopping with another person, I find that store aisles are too
narrow for two people and a cart. That is when I follow my guide with
my hand on a shoulder. The cart needs to go at the front or the back of
the procession, a matter of personal choice.
Most of the time I am an organized shopper, preparing my grocery list
beforehand. If I know the layout of the store, I think of each section
and decide what to buy as I mentally walk around. If the store is new
to me, and all stores are new the first time, I do some preparation,
anyway. The more I am going to buy, the more help I need, so I ask the
store for one of their staff to help in my selections. You have to be
specific when designating items: tuna, oil packed or water packed;
cereal, which size; bananas, how green. Finding a time that is good for
you to shop and the store to help is a matter of juggling schedules.
In years past, I used a two-wheeled fold-up cart for pulling my
groceries home. The cart had a bad habit of getting too close and
running over my heel. In order to keep the cart in its place behind me,
I held my arm straight down and against my side. That position kept the
wheels back from me.
How Do You Walk in Ice, Snow, and Rain?
Ice, snow, and rain have this in common: they make the footing slippery.
How do I keep from giving a skating demonstration and falling on my
dignity? I walk a little slower, keep my knees slightly bent, and take
shorter steps. I also put my feet down flat, not striding out with the
heel landing first. I may not move fast, but I do move and stay
upright.
If the snow is light or fresh, I dig my cane through it, and with the
combination of sound and touch I can tell what is there. If the snow is
too deep to dig through or it is packed and frozen, the cane must find
something above the surface to identify as a landmark. Sometimes packed
snow on the sidewalk and loose snow beside it show enough difference to
help. Taller landmarks are helpful, such as bushes, fences, sign posts,
and parked cars. Snow covers many of the usual landmarks, but it can
become a landmark, itself. One winter it stayed so cold for so long
that I used a particular snow bank as a landmark on the way to a
friend's house.
When the snow is deep and soft, it weighs down branches which hang in
front of you. One advantage of a long cane is that you can reach up and
tap a branch so it will release its burden of snow before you walk under
it. Well, it works sometimes.
The world sounds different with a covering of snow. Echoes disappear.
Distances expand. I navigate more by dead reckoning and less by my
usual landmarks.
Rain may not change the footing as much as snow and ice do, but it can
change the sound of things in its own way. Cars hissing by on wet
streets mask other sounds. Rustling raincoats do the same. Hats,
scarves and hoods all influence what you hear in different ways, and you
may want to think of that along with the weather. I am rarely out in
rain so hard that it covers all other sounds.
It may take longer to get places in the rain. I often listen harder and
wait longer to know where things are and when things happen. Here is
another practical use for the long cane: finding the depth and width of
curbside puddles.
How About Suburban and Rural Roads with No Sidewalks?
I like to get routes, distances, and landmarks well in mind before
starting. There is more area in which to get lost, and fewer people
from whom to ask directions. I take my longest cane and swing it rather
widely. I move along at a good clip because there are greater distances
to cover. I still have to stay alert for traffic on the road, as well
as mailboxes and ditches beside it.
I usually stay on the shoulder of the roadway, but sometimes I take
short excursions to explore for a sidewalk which may appear for a while,
or a front walk, driveway, or other landmark that would help me keep
track of what is about and around. I like to stay close to the road,
because that is the main landmark. The direction of the sun, wind, and
distant sounds can also be used as a guide and landmark.
Are There Roads and Intersections Unsafe for Any Pedestrian?
I am one of those people who finds the "wet paint" sign and wonders if
the paint is still wet. That same rebellious, disbelieving streak comes
out when people tell me not to attempt certain streets or intersections
because they are too dangerous or complicated for me. I always wonder
if they mean "because I am blind."
I usually learn something about these places before testing them for
myself. Is there another street or intersection a block or two from
there that would get me to my destination just as well? The answer is
sometimes "yes" and sometimes "no." I know some "nervous nay-sayers" who
simply have no faith in the travel abilities of blind people. I also
know some "supporting stalwarts" who recognize realistic obstacles.
When it comes time for me to make my own decision, I take it slowly,
allowing plenty of time on my schedule. I also pick an off-peak time
for traffic. There is no doubt about it, I have made mistakes! Once I
found that the roadway dropped immediately into a 3-foot wide ditch at
the bottom of a 50-degree hill. The cars going by fanned me with their
breeze. I never went back there. Another time I walked over an area of
hedges, potted plants, no proper sidewalks, becoming somewhat
disoriented before coming to the other side. I was glad I had only gone
through the confusing part of that one, and not the dangerous part.
Sometimes I have had satisfying success. I have stood at an
intersection for many minutes, listening to the traffic to learn where
the movement went, and when the directions changed. Then I decided I
could make it, and did. To another blind person, I would say, "gather
all your skills and use your best judgment for evaluating the situation
before and during the trip. If necessary, be willing to find another
route for the next time."
Picnics, Hiking, and Rough Country
Do you go for picnics or hikes in the country? When I go on these
trips, I take my sturdiest cane along. It is just as important here as
anywhere else to use the cane and to keep track of landmarks and
directions. When I arrive at a new area, I do as many people do; I try
to get an idea of what is around me. Are there buildings, roads, rocks,
trees, or open areas? Is there a slope to the land, and what is the
direction of the sun, wind, and noises? I may do some short-range
exploring while keeping track of my point of reference, be it a car or a
picnic table.
Since I am the only man in my family and the strongest one of us, I get
to carry the picnic cooler from the car to the table, but I still use my
cane. The cane is held somehow or other in front, whether I am being
guided or carrying this two-handed burden alone. My shins want the cane
to tell them when we arrive at the bench.
When hiking beside someone else, I still protect myself with the cane.
Some trails are well-worn and obvious to the feet, so I may walk alone
and use Rule One, the side-to-side swing of the cane. On some narrow
trails I let my guide take one end of the cane while I hold the other
end. Since I am without the cane as a bumper, I work out signals with
my partner such as "left around the rock," or "up and over the log." I
try to get my partner to put the functional word first and not at the
end of a long, descriptive sentence. By the time I listen to "There's a
bend in the trail up here with a tree on one side and a cliff on the
other, so I guess you'd better stay to the right," I may already have
met my fate.
When it comes to clambering over hills and boulders, some of the cane
technique gets rather informal. I still use the cane to locate the next
place my foot is going. Sometimes there is as much poking and probing
as swinging the cane from side to side. I rarely jump, and only when I
am very sure of where I will land. When the rocks and hills get very
steep, it may be more practical to slip the cane under my belt or
abandon it altogether, and just use hands and feet.
If you want to use a directional compass, you need to have a good idea
of where you are going before you begin. You must make the compass work
for you along with the other tools you use. Keep a record of landmarks,
distances, and compass bearings. If you are going very far, you need
more instruction in orienteering than I can give you here.
When I am entangled in bushes and trees with interlocking branches as
high as my head, I am usually in someone's back yard or in a city park.
Only a few times have I been in rough country where this condition
lasted. If the usual city technique of swinging the cane along the
ground is just not telling you enough, and the branches are getting in
your face, try this.
Bring the cane up at a diagonal in front of your body, across at head
level, and down at a diagonal to the other side. For the next step,
reverse the direction. The path of the cane is an X with a loop at the
top. I go rather slowly when I do this, and I am usually holding back
branches with my free hand. This really is a "wild woods" technique.
Do not use it around people or other works of the human race such as
windows. IN all the years of travel I have behind me, my total use of
this technique probably does not exceed ten minutes.

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