We live in a capitalist system; anyone who believes they are above this system or purer than this system, even while shopping at the cute organic market across the street or taking a hiking vacation to Guatemala, is certifiable.
I know that I was hiking at a very young age because I remember being convinced that it was the trees that were talking.
Some do not walk at all; others walk in the highways; a few walk across lots.
Food is like a torture device because hiking 47 miles a day is hard enough. And then you're trying to get down 6,000 calories a day. Every hour, I needed a snack, every few hours I had to take in a meal and it's just not food, it's fuel. You're not enjoying it - you're seriously shoving it in your mouth and following it with water, juice or Gatorade.
The English literary movement at the end of the 18th century was obviously due in great part, if not mainly, to the renewed practice of walking.
A young woman hiking alone in the mountains sounds dangerous. In the pre-cell phone era maybe it was, but Ill stop short of calling it foolish.
I love a good wool suit, and I appreciate the fact that it's a natural fiber. I know where it comes from, and I know how it's bred. And it's built to last. It breathes and it feels good. A lot of my climbing and hiking gear is all wool, because I can wear it for a week straight and it doesn't smell. And when you get hot and sweaty in a cold temperature, it stays warm. So your body temperature stays at a good warmth rather than freezing your ass off.
I can remember walking as a child. It was not customary to say you were fatigued. It was customary to complete the goal of the expedition.
Once you find you can't walk as far and as fast as you were able, life becomes more complicated.
I now resolved to go to bed early, with a firm purpose of also rising early the next day to revisit this charming walk; for I thought to myself, I have now seen this temple of the modern world imperfectly; I have seen it only by moonlight.
Along the river's summer walk, The withered tufts of asters nod; And trembles on its arid stalk the hoar plum of the golden-rod.
In the evening, I walked alone down to the Lake by the side of Crow Park after sunset and saw the solemn coloring of night draw on, the last gleam of sunshine fading away on the hilltops, the seep serene of the asters, and the long shadows of the mountains thrown across them, till they nearly touched the hithermost shore. At distance hear the murmur of many waterfalls not audible in the day-time. Wished for the moon, but she was dark to me and silent, hid in her vacant interlunar cave.
We are kindred all of us, killer and victim, predator and prey, me and the sly coyote, the soaring buzzard, the elegant gopher snake, and trembling cottontail, the foul worms that feed on our entrails; all of them, all of us. Long live diversity, long live the earth!
Good walking leaves no track behind it.
When you walking along naturally, you're walking in the harmony of the Unborn.
I travel not to go anywhere, but to go.
And I walked, I walked through the light air; I moved with the morning.
Society speaks and all men listen, mountains speak and wise men listen
Before modern times there was Walking, but not the perfection of Walking, because there was no tea.
Meandering leads to perfection.
Hiking - I don't like either the word or the thing. People ought to saunter in the mountains - not hike! Do you know the origin of that word 'saunter?' It's a beautiful word. Away back in the Middle Ages people used to go on pilgrimages to the Holy Land, and when people in the villages through which they passed asked where they were going, they would reply, "A la sainte terre,' 'To the Holy Land.' And so they became known as sainte-terre-ers or saunterers. Now these mountains are our Holy Land, and we ought to saunter through them reverently, not 'hike' through them."
There is an intense but simple thrill in setting off in the morning on a mountain trail, knowing that everything you need is on your back. It is a confidence in having left the inessentials behind and of entering a world of natural beauty that has not been violated, where money has no value, and possessions are a dead weight. The person with the fewest possessions is the freest. Thoreau was right.
Like after a nice walk when you have seen many lovely sights you decide to go home, after a while I decided it was time to go home, let us put the cubes back in order. And it was at that moment that I came face to face with the Big Challenge: What is the way home?
Walking is the number one exercise for your feet as well as your body. Barefoot walking is the ideal.
I can walk down the street all day and people look at me, but they don't talk to me or stop me.
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