Walking on sunshine
Despite money problems and the occasional stray slug, walking and wild camping around the coast of Britain has done wonders for Emma Schroeder’s mental health
I FEEL LIKE one of the best things I’ve done for my mental health is to take a hike. I’m not suggesting everybody quit their jobs and set off to walk around the coast of Britain, like I did, but just taking a few days to be surrounded by trees and water is such a mental boost. At the very least you will appreciate the novelty of running water and toilets when you get back home. Hot and cold water on demand?
What a time to be alive.
Humans are built for walking, we literally crawled out of the water and grew legs because we got sick of swimming [citation needed]. It’s not just the physical activity that gives you such a mental boost though.
It’s everything else that’s tied in with spending time outdoors and immersing yourself in nature. I don’t think it can be recreated on a treadmill with forest-soundeffects.mp3 looping through your headphones.
There’s something quite meditative about the daily routine of walking and camping. The perfect spot appears after a long day of hiking: a flat, grassy patch overlooking the ocean and far enough off the beaten track that you won’t get disturbed by any early-morning dog walkers. It’s quiet, save for a gentle breeze and maybe a couple of oyster catchers cheeping away in the distance.
Then you get to enjoy nature’s television. Watching the clouds twist and tumble, and the sky turning all shades of pink and slowly darkening; the town on the horizon beginning to light up like a tiny model village; the occasional flash of a lighthouse. Sometimes you get the bright moonlight reflecting off the endless ocean; sometimes you have pure darkness and the sky alight with stars.
The night is never silent; you start to hear the creaking of trees and the snuffling of the nocturnal animals. Even on a rainy day the gentle pitter-patter of rain is comforting as you lie nice and dry reading your book, and you don’t worry about packing up your wet tent in the morning and peeling all the slugs off. That’s a problem for future you. Be mindful and enjoy the slug-free present.
I appreciate most people don’t have the luxury of unlimited free time and money for unfettered adventures and have to work for a living. Lots of people ask how I’ve afforded to travel for so long, and the answer is my overheads are extremely low because
I’ve been living in a tent and eating mainly tinned food. Only my walking equipment turns me from homeless to hiker, from vagrant to vagabond, from tramp to tramper. Although after 400-plus days of continuous walking, and about 4500 miles, my bank account is crying, so I’ve just picked up some work in a little supermarket to save some money so I can increase my baked bean fund and get going again. Obviously the dream is to win the lottery, but my plans are probably hindered by not buying tickets in the first place.
At the end of the day, we’re just slightly more sophisticated monkeys, hurtling around the sun on a giant rock around an endless and unknowable void. We still need the occasional jaunt outside in nature, away from the screens and our hectic responsibilities, to have a bit of freedom and give our minds a little holiday.
So next time someone tells you to get lost or to take a hike, thank them earnestly for caring about your mental health and take them up on the suggestion.
Your inner monkey will thank you.
“I don’t think the benefits of hiking can be recreated on a treadmill with forestsound-effects. mp3 looping through your headphones”