âNever trust a thought that didnât come by walking.â - Friedrich Nietzsche
If youâve been reading these Op-Ed Haiku over the last few months, youâll know I walk a great deal: With my wife and lab Barney; on deserted sandy beaches; and among giant trees. It is where ideas percolate.
I have always walked a lot, had to. I walked to school until high school. I walked my daily paper routeâneither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail shall keep me from delivering the Windsor Star or the Sunday Detroit Free Pressâmail carriers had nothing on me. I walked to my first girlfriendâs house. I walked to my first job at Windsor Yacht Clubâs Russ Marina. And I even walked to my local pub, Abars.
Back then, my whole universe was literally within walking distance.
Then I got a shiny blue 2-speed bike, upgraded quickly to a ten-speed bike, followed by the obligatory motorcycle and finally a carâŚsure my world got bigger, but I walked a lot less. When I moved far away to a foreign land, I quickly found out that youâll never see nobody âWalking in LA.â In fact, I learned that some people suffered from ambulophobiaâa fear of walking. Crazy. Betting street crime and the reality its always open season in âMerica, could very well be key contributing factors of ambulophobia. That, and people just donât like âWalking on Broken Glassâ.
Eventually though, I moved to the more densely populated urban environs of San Francisco and then Londonâwhere thereâs nothing like a good âWalk Out in the Rain.â Happily, I quickly replaced my wheels for walking. And once again, I enjoyed âWalkinâ By Myselfâ while âWalkinâ Thru the Parkâ or âWalkinâ after Midnight,â and even taking a âWalk on the Wild Sideâ occasionally. City life is like that.
Seriously though, Thoreau, Nietzsche and Kant all knew, that walking makes you think clearer. Although some question Nietzscheâs lucidityâI for one, wouldnât want to walk a mile in his shoes. But fundamentally I agree. Because clear thinking is a good thing, it can help prevent those âWalking Bluesâ from pushing someone to walk in front of a bus, like maybe my grandfather did? Walking has certainly soothed me at times, allowed me to think more expansively vis-Ă -vis the molehills morphing into mountains. And trust me, climbing mountains is never fun, despite the great selfies!
Basically, I am a meanderer who prefers walking somewhere, rather than taking the Stairmaster to nowhereâor be put on a Fitbit-enforced daily 10,000 step death march. So, I donât saunter, march or prowlâŚI wander. And thereâs a great French word I like, in addition to fromage and croissants, that perfectly describes how I walkâflânerie, meaning that I am an idle yet observant walker. At least thatâs the definition Iâm sticking with.
And that I am.
When I travel, roaming the streets of a novel destination, I am always in thrall. My urban safaris excite me; adventurously exploring a new place: Seeing how old towns begrudgingly give way to central business districts; looking up at the architecture or trees; beholding the flowers and cultural oddities; or just bearing witness to the patterns of life. Inevitably, I find hidden cultural gems, civil engineering highlights, and one-of-a-kind artistic shopsâusually before breakfast. Because I love getting up at dawn, putting on my walking shoes and heading out the door; watching the city come alive, the daily morning rituals revitalizing a sleepy city: joggers, dog walkers, commuters, breakfast forgers, hawkers, stores opening, tired school kids, monks with begging bowls, and other walkers, just like me. A rhythm develops. It feels like you are mainlining on the pulse of the city. It is why I am addicted to travel. I love being a flâneur.
My kids will tell you firsthand I walk through extremely sketchy areas of town; both on purpose, with utter confidence, and thoughtlessly so, with foolish naivety. But weâre all still hereâso far so goodâand they probably learned a thing or two. Yet, I must confess, I much prefer strolling through quiet, exquisitely landscaped well-to-do neighborhoods. Exhibit A of my snobby standards. Â Â
âItâs dangerous business walking out your front door.â - J.R.R. Tolkien in The Hobbit
Often, in the remote corners of the world I visit, I enjoy walking âWhere the Streets Have No Name.â There is a thrill I get walking alone, uncertain and disoriented, due to a lack of any recognizable waypoints. Iâm never lost, I just donât know where I am. Of course, I prefer walking in nature, near water especially, enjoying the cathartic effects of a long beach walk. And at night, thereâs nothing like looking for the glint of surveilling eyes in nature: owls, racoons, maybe bears.
Despite my love of music, I paradoxically never listened to my Sony Walkman when I walkedâŚat least not after a London double-decker hit me in a crosswalk. Lessons learned: look both ways and keep your spidey senses on alert. Â
A few memorable walks Iâve taken include hiking the Great Wall of China; promenading with a lover across Pragueâs Charles Bridge; wandering with my kids in Paris; moseying along Dubrovnikâs city walls at sunset and Jerusalemâs sacred Via Dolorosa; as well as slogging along parts of Nepalâs Annapurna Trial, the John Muir Trail and Camino de Santiago (aka Way of St. James) in Spain. I have not walked the Inca Trail (aka the Toilet Trail) thoughâI flew instead in a beat-up old Russian helicopter. One favorite thru-walk was along Kyotoâs Philosopherâs Path, thought-provoking end-to-end. A One-Day goal of mine (aka Living List not Bucket List) is to walk across a country from sea-to-seaâŚsay Panama, at only 80 kilometers (50 miles), Iâd make a day of it, with a couple of beer breaks, of course.
You know, I thought about curating a special âWalkingâ playlist for this pieceâsurely Dire Straits âWalk of Lifeâ would start it offâbut then that would just confirm what you already knowâthat I clearly have way too much time on my handsâŚ
Oh, BTWâŚon a recent walk pondering lifeâs eternal questions, following years of contemplation, I finally figured out What itâs all about?âŚYou want to know What itâs all about? The Hokey Pokey, of course.
Thanks for the privilege of your time, it is the most precious thing we have, and I appreciate it. Be well.
William D. Chalmers Š 2022 GreatEscape Adventures, Inc. All Rights Reserved.