One Stroke · Walking and sketching routes in Australia
A sketching kit that survives the walk
Everything here fits in a jacket pocket. The constraint is not quality, it is weight, wind and the fact that you have to keep moving.
Paper first
Cartridge paper around 150 to 200 gsm handles pencil and light wash without buckling, and it survives a damp pack better than thinner stock.
A bound sketchbook is convenient and terrible in wind — pages flap and the spine fights you. Loose sheets on a light board with two bulldog clips solve this and let you work on the reverse without turning anything.
If you expect real rain, waterproof notebooks exist. They are expensive and they take graphite well enough. For most conditions, a sheet of paper in a plastic sleeve is sufficient.
Pencil over pen, usually
Graphite marks damp paper, does not run when a drop lands on it, does not dry out, and works at any temperature. Ink fails on all four counts at some point on an Australian walk.
Two pencils cover most needs: something around 2B for general work and a softer 6B for shadow. A small clutch pencil avoids carrying a sharpener and a pile of shavings.
If you want ink, a fibre-tip with waterproof pigment is the practical choice. Fountain pens are a delight at a café table and a liability in a pack.
Colour, or not
A small watercolour set with a water brush is the lightest way to carry colour, and it works surprisingly well for quick notes. The limitation is water — in desert country you are not spending your drinking supply on a wash.
A reasonable alternative is to draw in line and write the colour down. A note saying which grey the cliff was is more useful a week later than a rushed wash that dried wrong.
Water-soluble pencils are a decent middle ground: they travel as pencils and become washes when you have water to spare.
Working fast
Ten minutes is a realistic sketch on a walk. Anything longer and the group has moved on, the light has changed, or you are cold.
That forces useful habits: establish the big shapes first, put in one or two strong darks, and stop. A drawing that captures the structure of a ridge in six lines is worth more than an unfinished detailed one.
Date and place every sheet. In three months you will have no idea which gorge that was, and the note takes four seconds.
The physical problem of standing still
You cool down fast when you stop moving, particularly in wind. Put a layer on before you sit rather than after you start shivering — the same rule as stargazing, for the same reason.
Something to sit on makes a large difference to how long you last. A folded foam pad weighs almost nothing and keeps you off cold rock or wet ground.
Fingers are the limiting factor in cold. Fingerless gloves with a fold-over mitt are the standard answer and they work.
Sun, wind and flies
Glare off white paper in Australian sun is genuinely painful and makes tonal judgement impossible. Work in shade where you can, or tilt the board away from the sun.
Wind takes loose sheets and will not give them back. Clips are not optional, and a sheet weighted by a rock on a lookout is a sheet in the valley within a minute.
Flies in the warmer months are constant in much of the country. A head net looks ridiculous and is the difference between drawing for twenty minutes and giving up after five.
Why bother drawing at all
The honest reason is that it makes you look properly. A photograph takes a second and records everything without requiring you to understand any of it. A drawing requires you to decide what the shape actually is.
People reliably remember places they drew far better than places they photographed. That seems to be about attention rather than talent, which is a useful thing to know if you think you cannot draw.
Nobody has to see it. The sketchbook of a person who walks a lot is mostly bad drawings of good days, and that is the correct ratio.