Walking Can Widen Your World
We know the physical benefits walking provides but there are many other perks along the way.
“Walk as if you are kissing the earth with your feet.” Thich Nhat Hanh
“There you are! I’ve been looking for you and wondering where you’ve been. Are you okay?”
This query came from a 95-year-old neighbor I ran into as she toted two grocery bags up a steep hill. Feisty as all get out, she is dedicated to schlepping her food on foot. She grew up in a Swiss mountain village where locals walked everywhere without question. Using a vehicle was considered extravagant unless you had a heavy load.
“I’m only in the city occasionally now,” I explained.
“Well, I’m glad I ran into you today. We’ve been concerned about your absence.”
“Am I being tracked by a host of unseen?”
“My dear, you’ve been a fixture on the street. Our neighbors keep an eye out for daily walkers.”
Our conversation brought up memories of a visit to Ireland three years ago. You can tell a lot about society by watching pedestrians. Many Irish are formidable striders. Students enter walking competitions for Physical Education credits, shooting off like rocket-fueled demons.
Dublin was in strictly stride mode. No walkers are allowed on those streets. Being a strider myself, I was in heaven. I couldn’t even detect a slow lane on side streets. Thrilling!
One had to keep an eye out for stroller armed parents, however. They used their equipment to nip the heels of any slowpoke in front, then offered up an immediate false apology. It came off as a street mantra. Bash- “So sorry!” This was acceptable behavior as long as amends were uttered, sort of like expecting sheepdogs to warn the strays.
One day I was on a brisk walk until held captive by a black bird’s exquisite song. A woman who must’ve been in her 90’s came hobbling up the cobblestoned street, cane in one hand, groceries in the other. As she drew abreast, I asked if she knew the name of the bird I had been admiring.
“I don’t know the name of that bird I’m sorry to say. I live here and should know it. It’s embarrassing I can’t tell a visitor to my town the name of a bird.”
Now I was horrified, resorting to effusiveness. “No please, no need to apologize. I was appreciating its song but I don’t need to know its name to do that. In fact, who cares what that bird’s name is!” We managed to rustle up friendly smiles and leave in peace. Although on departing, she did say she was going home to look up that bird and find its name.
“In every walk with nature, one receives far more than he seeks.” John Muir
I ruminated on these vigorous elders after my neighbor and I hugged and parted ways. I realized how many individuals on my favored routes were familiar enough for us to have exchanged names. Trekking onward, a mile later a woman tapped on her window and waved. I had helped her with a car issue and she never forgot the small act of kindness.
I passed a garden with a young girl playing with her kitty in the grass. We shared a laugh when I showed her the adorable photo I captured of little Ginger doing a belly stretch, mom watching with approval.
Arriving at the lake, I came across a homeless man with his canine companion. I had noticed Betsy’s charming outfits in the past and complimented her pink jacket as we passed. My brief comment opened the door to his world.
He stopped and explained how he carefully gathered used clothing in good shape, washed it in public restrooms and hand-stitched pieces in the matching thread for his doggie fashionista. All seven of her outfits, one for each day of the week, emphasized the word love, similar to this one. He felt the world could “use a bit more of it and Betsy is the best ambassador ever.” I wasn’t sure how she felt about the sunglasses though.
He also told me he took better care of Betsy than he did of his own body. He thanked me for stopping and listening to his story, saying I had made his day. A moment of attention was all it took to catch a glimpse of his reality.
Setting out on foot establishes common ground. Rich or poor, young or old, we are all treading the same turf. With fewer trappings to identify us, we are offered a different route to interacting with those crossing our path.
There’s a lot to be said for the slow, overland routes I favored during my nomadic years. Walking provides an invitation to the world before us and immersion in nature if we choose the outdoors. I’ve also found it to be a guarantee of unusual encounters with people you might not experience in any other way.
Walking is similar to slow-cooked food. The crockpot simmering all day for the reward of a perfectly tender, flavor married soup at dinner versus a pit stop for a quick bite of dead fast food. Jet in, zip out and miss the magic of the in-between marinade.
It took me two and a half years to travel from Seattle, Washington U.S. to southern Chile, S.A. The journey involved random public transport, hitchhiking, abundant walking, two short plane rides and several wild boat rides down the Amazon River. I wasn’t in a hurry…ever. The payoffs were tremendous for my inner explorer.
I developed a pattern during this extensive journey which began in Mexico. Coming into a new town, I would locate the Zocolo [main square] and observe local culture without having to stray any further. Residents flushed out of their homes day and night, flooding the plaza with endless rounds of foot traffic, often circling a park with a splashing fountain.
I would buy a small treat from the hordes of vendors and watch as young teen girls did a paseo repeatedly, failing miserably in their efforts not to stare at the foreigner in their midst. Curiosity always won the day with this crowd.
By the third circle, a bold one would walk toward me as I waited with a smile, her shy pals fluttering behind in her wake. I received the same battery of questions over and over, never tiring of answering them. Where did I live? How old was I? Did I have children? Where was I going? Was I afraid to be alone?
Each reply brought up a titter of amusement with hands darting to conceal mouths as they laughed. I later realized this common habit was not only early training for polite female discourse but was done to disguise missing teeth. In El Salvador, a poor nation, by comparison, I was often told I was beautiful because I had all my teeth.
Young teens are excellent language instructors and great conveyors of local gossip and places to visit. They never steered me wrong on a clean, cheap hotel and where to eat the best food in the markets. They were a walking, talking gold mine of information I would’ve never been able to access in a tourist office.
“If you are in a bad mood go for a walk. If you are still in a bad mood go for another walk” Hippocrates
On our island where I live the majority of the time now, I have met people simply walking along rural roads. I start off in a forest filled with whispering firs and raunchy Ravens doling out daily opinions. I croak back at them as they fly along, gliding effortlessly from tree to tree.
I’m fascinated by Corvids and their intelligent minds. I once watched a group of four Ravens open a ziplock bag full of raw steak in a team effort. They were so crafty, three of them managed to stabilize the corners of the bag while another pulled the zipper open on top. Brain to body size, they may be smarter than us. I consider them my steady companions.
Once I leave the wild, the human entertainment begins. Drivers stop periodically to question me, Sometimes turning off their engines if I’m open to a longer story.
“I see you every day. How far do you walk? Where do you live? What’s your name? Where do you go? Did you see that Eagle’s nest over there?” I return and tell my husband, “Oh, I just met so and so. Do you know him, her?” He’ll shake his head no and he has a 40-year history on the island.
Once a stranger and I have shared a few missives over time, astonishing acts of kindness can arise. For some bizarre reason, I ended up sharing vacuum woes with a new acquaintance. I had recently purchased a new one and the rug attachment barfed out some wires one day, refusing to work after my rudimentary repair.
I threatened it with extinction, receiving no response. To my surprise, she told me she was headed to the city the next morning and would be glad to take it in to the store and return with a new one.
“You would go through that hassle for a stranger?” She waved her hand in a brush off and declared, “You’re hardly a stranger. We see you every morning!” I had a working vacuum a week later and a new friend.
A few days ago we were off island and at the ferry terminal in the long wait islanders are very familiar with. We had a picnic dinner and went in search of a table. I spotted a lone cyclist sitting at a table with the most fully loaded bike I had ever seen. My innate gypsy automatically veered in his direction. There was a story here and this time the roles were reversed.
“Can we share your table?”
“Absolutely! I’ve just arrived and I’m having a celebratory snack.”
“Where have you come from?”
“Bar Harbor, Maine.”
I about choked on my fish burger. Bar Harbor was the most North Eastern point in the U.S. Anacortes, WA was as far North West as one could travel on the continental U.S. This dude had just finished crossing the entire country on his bike. It wasn’t Electric.
I wanted to grill the guy. What route did you take? Hairy occurrences to report? Did you journal? I restrained my enthusiasm based on the fact he looked totally wiped out and simultaneously jubilant. He had accomplished his goal and we were his lucky witnesses.
We gave him an ovation and I admit to waxing on a bit about his incredible feat and how amazing he was. He lapped it up, invigorated by our excitement and praise. He shared a few main events of his two-month journey. No support from others, alone on his bike weighing 100 lbs., ascending gruelling mountain passes and masking his nose and mouth through burning forests in the west. WOW!
Alongside human contacts, some of my walking inspirations and allies are found in nature’s creatures. I’ve fallen in love with a Red-Tailed Hawk for instance. She hangs out around a vast field, on the scout for voles, and other tasty breakfast items. She called out to me one day, perched low enough for me to identify her.
As I continued walking she swished off, then perched until I caught up. This hopscotch continued until I entered the road home and discovered her high above her nest in the backwoods.
One of the few benefits of the pandemic was the increase in pedestrian traffic. Zoomers working at home had to deal with their dogs doleful, walk begging looks, taking them out multiple times a day. Parents went to the park with their children to regain some form of sanity for all concerned. In general, we drove less and walked more.
With restrictions lifted, we’re back in our cars and driving faster than ever. A different kind of plague has resurrected, the dis-ease of loneliness. A lack of connection to others on the most basic level. There are many remedies to this illness and one of the most available and potent cures is walking out your door.
Your two feet will take you places a car, boat, bus, train or plane could never enter. Straight into the heart path of strangers, friends and maybe even wildlife, all waiting to share a piece of their world and enrich your wandering soul.
