Ramble, Don’t Rush
There are plenty of reasons to speed through a hike. Maybe you’re racing the sunset, seeking an intense cardio workout, or trying to maximize the number of summits you can hit in a single day. Setting a faster pace, however, means you’re more likely to miss out on the trail’s natural wonders.
Some of my most memorable encounters with plants, fungi, and wildlife have occurred when I resisted the instinct to rush. Last summer, for instance, I ventured on an afternoon hike in New Hampshire’s Pisgah State Park with a couple of friends. The loop seemed easy enough: 5.3 miles, less than 700 feet of elevation gain, and an estimated duration of just over two hours.
When we got on the trail, we noticed people walking toward the parking lot in bathing suits. “Is there somewhere to swim?” asked one of my hiking partners. They provided us with directions to Kilburn Pond, a destination not included on our original route. Drawn to the prospect of a refreshing swim on a sweltering summer day, we changed course.
The detour led us to warm, sun-soaked boulders bordering a beautiful pond. We took a refreshing dip in our hiking attire, munched on wild blueberries, and watched dragonflies dance above the water. It was the highlight of our trip — and it wouldn’t have happened if we prioritized efficiency over enjoyment.
We returned to the woods after an hour or so of swimming and sunbathing. After a few days of rain, the trail was muddy and filled with mosquitos. Running into spiderwebs at every turn made it clear that our path hadn’t been traversed by many hikers that day. About halfway through, we realized we were losing daylight faster than expected.
What was supposed to be a delightful stroll turned into a speed walk as we tried to escape the less-than-ideal trail conditions and return to the car before dark. Despite the ticking clock, I kept an eye out for nature’s spectacles and stopped the group when I saw a tiny flash of purple poking out from a fallen log. We paused for a few minutes to examine the most beautiful mushroom I’ve ever seen. I’m no mycologist, but if I had to guess, I’d say it was Cortinarius iodes, or the viscid violet cort. To this day, I’ve never seen anything like it.
I love hiking with people who are willing to take a break and engage with the environment rather than hustle through it. Being mindful has led me to notice more birds, flowers, ferns, and other organisms that remind me of my place in a vast network of ecological interactions. Focusing on these surroundings makes everything else feel insignificant; deadlines, breakups, and other challenges all fade away as I appreciate features of the ever-changing landscape that would otherwise go unnoticed.
It’s no surprise that mindfulness in the outdoors offers benefits for physical and mental health. Research has indicated that practices like forest bathing — immersing oneself in nature and focusing on the sights, sounds, and smells of the forest — can reduce anxiety, stimulate the parasympathetic nervous system, lower blood pressure, and more.
In a world of nonstop overstimulation and change, it’s increasingly important to find moments of patience and presence in the natural world.