The secret to happiness? It’s as simple as walking
Lovely day, innit?’ my cab driver remarked as we swung past Nelson’s Column, the early spring sun catching on the darkened shapes of Landseer’s lions. ‘There I was this morning with the dog, countryside as far as I could see. It’s how I start every day, think myself ready for what’s to come…’
For a moment, my mind drifted to the Dorset Downs, where every morning I, too, unencumbered by technology, walk the fields and set the agenda for the work that lies ahead, my errant Jack Russell, Sam, busying himself with pheasant, squirrel and rabbit as we go.
Whether you choose to walk to the shops, walk in the woods or walk across Europe (as I have, once), the fact is that even in the modern age this most ancient, if not original, of pastimes remains unchanged – doubtless because it was a wonderful way to get around in the first place. Better still, it’s one of those rare pleasures: one that costs absolutely nothing.
A sense of freedom seems to be central to most people’s enjoyment of walking. A friend, Hélène, a champion hot-air balloonist from France, told me that, for her, walking means no housework, no shopping, no telephone, and a break from her husband.
But walking can offer more than a temporary release from the chains of everyday life. Alice Warrender, who walked to Rome following major brain surgery, remarked to me that ‘the simplicity and pace of walking aids the process of reflection, so that thoughts become clearer and ordered’. On her return, she felt possessed of an inner calm and was a gentler person for her 1,200-mile experience.
Another friend, Andrew Bruce, who regularly raises money for charities by striding across Europe, says that when surrounded by nature, he feels at one with the world. And for me, who is more often to be found at the dog-walking end of the spectrum, that is the true beauty of walking: you don’t need to march great distances to enjoy a blackbird’s song, or go for days on end to stand on a headland looking out to sea, or chance upon a long-lost milestone at the roadside.
Maybe it’s as simple as a walk to the bottom of the road to admire a shop window, bump into a friend or, even better, meet someone new: walkers are great ones for saying hello. Whatever happens, it is rare that you will return home without feeling refreshed and with a smile on your face.
Personally, I like to walk ‘somewhere’. It gives me a sense of purpose, while to wander aimlessly merely frustrates. At the far end of this scale, you have the pilgrimage: the walk towards spiritual enlightenment. In 2012, I made a pilgrimage of my own, walking from London to the Vatican: 94 days, 1,411 miles (2,271km), four countries and three mountain chains, through snow, wind, rain, fog and shine. I used 47 maps and two pairs of boots. It was a remarkable journey.
But you don’t have to cross continents to benefit from walking. My greatest pleasure is to walk in the woods. These magical, ancient places let the mind roam, cut off from the distractions of the modern world. Simply find a log at the edge of a clearing, sit down, pull out the Thermos, pour a cup of tea and, in the silence, listen to nature’s thrum; a constant melody which, if you think on it, has played continuously down the generations – a humbling prospect.
If you wait patiently and watch closely, you will be surprised by what you notice – fresh buds on a branch, hatchlings in a nest, fox cubs at play, deer on the graze, even the occasional badger.
But then this desire to be in communion with nature harks back to our earliest roots, when we walked across – and then out of – Africa, colonising the whole world on foot.
The writer and serial walker Brian Mooney, who has walked the paths to Santiago de Compostela – arguably the most celebrated pilgrimage in the world – to Rome and, most recently, back again, reminded me that we still walk at the same pace. This, he affirms, is not life in the ‘slow lane’, it is life in the ‘right lane’ – the speed at which man is meant to live. Forget rushing; he maintains that at walking pace, the feet touch the ground in unison with the beat of your heart, and the world feels a better place for it.
But of course, to walk is also to discover, by which I refer not to the complex delights of an airport car park that ultimately leads you to some exotic holiday destination, but to places in the landscape that we often miss if we travel by car.
In England and Wales, there are around 120,000 miles of byways, footpaths and bridleways criss-crossing the land in their timeless manner, and they are open to each and every one of us at no charge.
These rights of way are not the sole preserve of the countryside. Towns and cities are no lesser places to walk; built-up areas offer inordinate variety for the walker as history piles high upon itself. It is in places like these that the passer-by needs to keep his or her eyes tuned in to the exquisite remnants of historic detail that abound – a loft door and derrick hook at the top of a building, a decorative relief high on a wall or even latter-day roof gardens – always mindful that cities and towns with squares, parks, rivers and canals are often as much alive with nature as the countryside itself.
But, having mused on the sense of freedom and spiritual and mental wellbeing that walking offers, it is important to remember that this ageold habit is also good for both your waistline and your health – and that must be a joy in its own right. Especially for this middle-aged man.
Like A Tramp, Like A Pilgrim, On Foot Across Europe To Rome, by Harry Bucknall, will be published in July (Bloomsbury, £16.99).
Ramblers: www.getwalking.org
www.visitwoods.org.uk
An Accidental Jubilee, by Alice Warrender (Stone Trough Books, £15).
A Long Way For A Pizza by Brian Mooney (Thorogood, £14.99).
For a moment, my mind drifted to the Dorset Downs, where every morning I, too, unencumbered by technology, walk the fields and set the agenda for the work that lies ahead, my errant Jack Russell, Sam, busying himself with pheasant, squirrel and rabbit as we go.
Whether you choose to walk to the shops, walk in the woods or walk across Europe (as I have, once), the fact is that even in the modern age this most ancient, if not original, of pastimes remains unchanged – doubtless because it was a wonderful way to get around in the first place. Better still, it’s one of those rare pleasures: one that costs absolutely nothing.
A sense of freedom seems to be central to most people’s enjoyment of walking. A friend, Hélène, a champion hot-air balloonist from France, told me that, for her, walking means no housework, no shopping, no telephone, and a break from her husband.
But walking can offer more than a temporary release from the chains of everyday life. Alice Warrender, who walked to Rome following major brain surgery, remarked to me that ‘the simplicity and pace of walking aids the process of reflection, so that thoughts become clearer and ordered’. On her return, she felt possessed of an inner calm and was a gentler person for her 1,200-mile experience.
Another friend, Andrew Bruce, who regularly raises money for charities by striding across Europe, says that when surrounded by nature, he feels at one with the world. And for me, who is more often to be found at the dog-walking end of the spectrum, that is the true beauty of walking: you don’t need to march great distances to enjoy a blackbird’s song, or go for days on end to stand on a headland looking out to sea, or chance upon a long-lost milestone at the roadside.
Maybe it’s as simple as a walk to the bottom of the road to admire a shop window, bump into a friend or, even better, meet someone new: walkers are great ones for saying hello. Whatever happens, it is rare that you will return home without feeling refreshed and with a smile on your face.
Personally, I like to walk ‘somewhere’. It gives me a sense of purpose, while to wander aimlessly merely frustrates. At the far end of this scale, you have the pilgrimage: the walk towards spiritual enlightenment. In 2012, I made a pilgrimage of my own, walking from London to the Vatican: 94 days, 1,411 miles (2,271km), four countries and three mountain chains, through snow, wind, rain, fog and shine. I used 47 maps and two pairs of boots. It was a remarkable journey.
But you don’t have to cross continents to benefit from walking. My greatest pleasure is to walk in the woods. These magical, ancient places let the mind roam, cut off from the distractions of the modern world. Simply find a log at the edge of a clearing, sit down, pull out the Thermos, pour a cup of tea and, in the silence, listen to nature’s thrum; a constant melody which, if you think on it, has played continuously down the generations – a humbling prospect.
If you wait patiently and watch closely, you will be surprised by what you notice – fresh buds on a branch, hatchlings in a nest, fox cubs at play, deer on the graze, even the occasional badger.
But then this desire to be in communion with nature harks back to our earliest roots, when we walked across – and then out of – Africa, colonising the whole world on foot.
The writer and serial walker Brian Mooney, who has walked the paths to Santiago de Compostela – arguably the most celebrated pilgrimage in the world – to Rome and, most recently, back again, reminded me that we still walk at the same pace. This, he affirms, is not life in the ‘slow lane’, it is life in the ‘right lane’ – the speed at which man is meant to live. Forget rushing; he maintains that at walking pace, the feet touch the ground in unison with the beat of your heart, and the world feels a better place for it.
But of course, to walk is also to discover, by which I refer not to the complex delights of an airport car park that ultimately leads you to some exotic holiday destination, but to places in the landscape that we often miss if we travel by car.
In England and Wales, there are around 120,000 miles of byways, footpaths and bridleways criss-crossing the land in their timeless manner, and they are open to each and every one of us at no charge.
These rights of way are not the sole preserve of the countryside. Towns and cities are no lesser places to walk; built-up areas offer inordinate variety for the walker as history piles high upon itself. It is in places like these that the passer-by needs to keep his or her eyes tuned in to the exquisite remnants of historic detail that abound – a loft door and derrick hook at the top of a building, a decorative relief high on a wall or even latter-day roof gardens – always mindful that cities and towns with squares, parks, rivers and canals are often as much alive with nature as the countryside itself.
But, having mused on the sense of freedom and spiritual and mental wellbeing that walking offers, it is important to remember that this ageold habit is also good for both your waistline and your health – and that must be a joy in its own right. Especially for this middle-aged man.
Like A Tramp, Like A Pilgrim, On Foot Across Europe To Rome, by Harry Bucknall, will be published in July (Bloomsbury, £16.99).
Ramblers: www.getwalking.org
www.visitwoods.org.uk
An Accidental Jubilee, by Alice Warrender (Stone Trough Books, £15).
A Long Way For A Pizza by Brian Mooney (Thorogood, £14.99).