What was the first meaningful walk that you ever went on? For me, it was the walk to (and from) my bus stop as a kid. A walk I did day after day, for years. It was a mile long, and repetitive, but I remember how happy that small slice of alone time made me. So tell me about the first walk you went on that was worth remembering.
My first meaningful walk was probably the mile I walked to school and back. But the walk (or hike) that sticks in my mind took place much later. I'd never done anything like a serious hike in the wilderness before. In community college I went on a field trip with my geology class to Yosemite, near end of Spring. No tourists; it was very quiet. At one point everyone was sitting around taking a break. Because I have asthma, my instructor let me start off by myself towards the base of Sentinel Dome -- so the rest of the class could catch up with me, and not the other way around. The forest was pristine and fragrant, with patches of snow still on the ground; the lichen and greenery of the trees was vibrant, like nothing I'd ever seen. I stopped at the valley rim, and about a half hour later my classmates showed up. They wanted to hike up the dome, but I decided to stay where I was, because it was so majestically beautiful right there. A mild storm was bringing towering clouds, trailing curtains of rain, over the other side of the valley. I loved being there by myself watching the clouds and rain drift across the steep cliffs (but somehow thankfully not towards me). I don't have the language to properly describe that moment. "Awesome," whatever. I think you know what I mean.
When I was around five or six, I decided to run away from home. There was this cluster of three pine trees a couple of blocks away from our house that stood in a triangle with a small hidden pocket between them. I packed all my books in my Lisa Frank backpack, and an apple with peanut butter and a juice box, and set off for that little grove. I stayed there a few hours and read all the books and ate and drank my supplies, and then I started to worry that my parents would be scared so I walked home. Only to find no one had noticed, haha.
Digging deep down into the past, I still have these memories of walking with my sister (a year younger than me) and being led by our Nana and Baka Eja (our grandmother Nadežda and her older sister Jelena) from our grandparents’ downtown apartment through the city’s most famous pedestrian street until its most popular park (a former Ottoman fortress). This was one of the few streets that the city took care of infesting in, using special cobblestones-whose cracks I avoided of course. We would walk with a plastic bag containing a jump rope and a couple of small balls-one of which was usually deflated. If we were good and the weather was nice, we would be allowed our choice of ice cream. I always chose the cheapest one-a strawberry popsicle-both because I was taught to be modest and because I enjoyed the flavor. It was how I measured inflation over the years-based on its price. The children’s park itself had broken swing chains and missing seesaw seats and everything that could have been stolen or vandalized had been. Only a set of bars-likely too cumbersome to be easily removed-still stood, so I became quite the gymnast in my young childhood by default.
When I was about 5, I loved a song about a kid who is sent to the store for his father. I would beg my mother to let me walk to the store. The thing is, I did not live in a city or even a town. The "corner" store was over a mile away and there were no sidewalks. One day, she let me!
I cannot believe that your question about my first walk made me think back so many years ago. I was 5 years old and I walked 3/4 of a mile, everyday, back and forth to kindergarten. By myself. I recall crossing quite a few streets and at the biggest and busiest intersection, there was a school crossing guard. His name was Harry. He carried a big red stop sign and held it high when he came to escort me across the intersection and again across the trolly tracks. I recall the Cleaners/Laundry sign on the store across the street and laughing to myself when the malfunctioning neon lights on the big L and C were dimmed and the other letters blinked “leaners/aundry”, off and on and I would say to myself, over and over as I skipped along the sidewalk, “leaners/aundry, leaners/aundry”
I thought nothing of the fact that I walked alone for such a long way (for a 5 year old) and was never in fear of anyone or anything.
I know this one! I grew up in Jamaica and lived in a “city” (more of a town) but we had family friends who lived relatively close to us by car, except there was (what seemed like) a decently high hill between us. Usually we’d get dropped off by car, but if my older brothers were game, we’d cut a path through the woods and over the hill.
One day when I was about 6, I’d been dropped off for a visit by car alone. When I decided I’d had enough and wanted to go home, it was still hours before anyone could pick me up. So I decide to walk. By myself. At 6. Through woods and over a hill. It was kind of scary, but I did it and loved every moment of quiet in the midst of all the trees and birds and insects. It was peaceful and I proved to myself that I could do it.
Of course, when I turned up at home by myself after, the grownups were not amused by my stunt. But when I think back in this walk I see the blueprint foe who I still am today. I still love the calm and peace that come from finding my own way and am impatient being on other people’s timelines.
A hike through a nature trail was the first one that bears remembering. The quiet and solitude were a huge contrast from the busy main city. It was very centering.
When I was in middle school, my dad was unemployed for some time. When he wasn't looking for a job, he did a five-mile loop around our neighborhood and one day he asked if I wanted to join. I'll admit that he sweetened the deal by saying he'd buy me an Icee when he stopped at the 7-11. So I went with him. Honestly, I don't remember what we talked about (if we even talked much as my dad wasn't a chatty man) but I do remember that he had very strong calves and wondered if he got them by walking so much while he wasn't working. I wondered if he missed working. He would walk at the same time every day as if it was an appointment he always wanted to keep. I sometimes feel like since he couldn't show his daughter where he worked, this was his opportunity to share his one ritual of the day with me.
When I was a kid, I was lucky enough to travel a lot with my parents, and the two walks that come to mind are along a beach in Cape Cod -- I remember coming up over a seagrass-strewn dune, onto the beach, where I explored tide pools and chased crabs -- and a hike in Yosemite. My parents were not outdoors-types, but I remember leaving our little cabin and ending up at a waterfall. I don't remember many other specifics, but it was my first realization of the grandiosity of nature.
A hot summer in the early 1980s. The English Lake District. My mum, younger brother and I stayed in a youth hostel for a glorious week, all very communal but we were poor. We walked from the hostel at Elterwater, up the Langdale Valley and then to Stickle Tarn, underneath the Langdale Pike mountains. It was hot and the ascent - to a ten year old - seemed to go on forever. God knows how my little brother managed it. The tarn (small lake) at the top was icy cold and we didn't swim in it, but reaching it was magnificent. Then back to the valley and a long hot but thankfully flat walk to the hostel. Absolutely knackered. Twenty years later and I was hiking the Biafo-Hispar traverse in Pakistan, the longest stretch of glaciers outside the polar regions, and finding it fairly casual - all thanks to the seed planted on that day.
Bicentennial summer, my friend and I walked all over our hometown, seemingly every day. I am not sure why we walked instead of rode bikes but we did. We lived about a mile apart, so every morning we each left home and met in the middle. We backtracked slightly and headed to the center of town, consisting of the library, deli, firehouse, and The Scoop, our candy and newspaper store. Bought candy and then headed to our softball coach’s house and hung out with her daughters. Eventually walked home. I don’t ever remember it raining or us eating lunch anywhere. The most exciting thing that happened was the time we caused an accident. We were on the sidewalk, approaching a traffic light and my friend said “there’s our Avon lady!” and started waving wildly at a woman in a car. The woman waved back and was distracted enough that she rear-ended the next car at the light. We ran off.
My grandpa retired the year before I was born and I spent a lot of time with him as a child. Monday through Friday he would walk around a nearby lake and did so until just a few years before he passed away. From as early as I can remember I would go along when he was taking care of me, or my mom and I would sometimes join him after she came home from work. He had a really hard childhood and was displaced by WW2 as a young adult, so he didn't travel a lot once he settled down. I think he really loved the comfort of the same routine almost every day so he never wavered from that certain lake.
My mom used to go for walks after dinner and used to drag me along. One night we walked by this very rich house that had a driveway lined with rocks. Someone had taken the time to paint the tops of all of the rocks white, right down to where the rocks met the ground. I said to my mom that we should flip over all of the rocks to ruin the white paint. It made my Mom laugh the hardest I had ever made her laugh.
She passed away when I was 16 and I’ve forgotten most of our evening walks. But every time I’m home and I run by the same driveway with the same white rocks I think of her laugh.
When I was 14 I visited my oldest brother and his wife in Japan where they had been teaching English. My sister-in-law was flying back with me at the end of my visit and my brother was flying home 3 months later. In order to give them some time to say goodbye without me around, the night before my SIL and I were leaving, I was sent to the store in Shinmatsudo to pick up the very specific recycling bags they used. At 14 I was super shy and far more afraid of everything than I am now. I was a solitary child and spent my younger years in my room reading about fictional adventures rather than going on my own. This trip to Japan was the first time I had ever flown by myself. There were other meaningful walks before this one, but walking to the store that evening was one of the first that I can remember doing on my own. They'd only taken me to the store once or twice during my visit and while I was scared, I was pretty sure I remembered the way. And I did. I made it there and back AND got the right kind of recycling bags.
When I was in third grade, my family moved (my parents bought their first house) and I changed elementary schools. The school wasn't that far away, so my mom arranged for me to walk home with a few kids who lived on our street. Only ... they were not thrilled with this new interloper. The first day, walking home, one of the girls whirled around and said "why are you FOLLOWING me???" in that way only an 8-year-old can be mean. I didn't know what to say, so I just started crying. Somehow I got home - it was only a block or two at that point - and told my mom and ... honestly I don't remember what happened after that, except that eventually I was allowed to walk home on my own (there were always other kids around). And, months later, that girl and I actually became friends. Though I don't remember if she ever apologized.
The details are fuzzy, but I'll never forget how I felt in that moment.
I remember my first meaningful walk must have been London. A quick bio- London is what I live for. I started going when I was 4, and I haven't stopped since. Once, a few years ago, we were in a new location we were renting: Kensington. On the first day, my mother had extreme jet lag, and fell straight asleep. My dad and I, however, tried to Walk It Off, quite literally. We walked... and walked... and my dad's "acute sense of direction" failed him. We were lost. However, I spotted something in the distance. Sustenance. We were hungry. We stumbled upon a Pizza Express. There we managed to rest, eat delicious pizza, and figure out how to get back home. After that day, anywhere we stayed in London was near a Pizza Express (quite coincidentally), and that's where we would go.
What a thought-provoking question! It made me realize how many “walking” expressions we have.
Getting married is “walking down the aisle”; if you want someone to leave you say “take a hike!”something easy is a “walk in the park”; a non-speaking stage role is a “walk-on part”; a famous musical tells us “you’ll never walk alone”; a grim execution is to “walk the plank”.....whew!
It was with my friend right before the pandemic began. We hooked elbows and strolled through the park like two old farts stealing back time. We don’t talk anymore.
I think it was walking around my neighborhood - I also lived within walking distance of most of the schools I went to, and most of my friends were relatively close by. It's all the more meaningful to me now as an adult because I grew up in the same house my entire childhood, and my mom had to sell it/leave it a few years ago (I am now in my early 30's). I have a particular attachment because those childhood walks/runs around the neighborhood turned into walking to my first job, which was also close by, or later going for runs in the same area. I haven't been there much in about 5 years since she left it but I can still picture every street corner and how it looked across the seasons.
I had not thought about this walk in decades, until your prompt. I had a fraught home life growing up and college was an unlikely dream. But I received a scholarship that covered tuition, and my mother found me a room in a boarding house near the school. (I did not yet know about financial aid so dorms were not an option.) The first day of school, I took the bus into the city, knowing I would never really go “home” again. After classes I walked the street my boarding house was on with this momentous sense of transition in my life, but I came to the end of the street and could not find the house! I suddenly felt entirely lost. Fortunately, it was a relatively short time before some one pointed out that the parkway divided my street, and I just had to cross it and continue on. That walk marked a moment of great significance for me, and I thank you for the prompt reminding me of it.
My first meaningful walk was probably the mile I walked to school and back. But the walk (or hike) that sticks in my mind took place much later. I'd never done anything like a serious hike in the wilderness before. In community college I went on a field trip with my geology class to Yosemite, near end of Spring. No tourists; it was very quiet. At one point everyone was sitting around taking a break. Because I have asthma, my instructor let me start off by myself towards the base of Sentinel Dome -- so the rest of the class could catch up with me, and not the other way around. The forest was pristine and fragrant, with patches of snow still on the ground; the lichen and greenery of the trees was vibrant, like nothing I'd ever seen. I stopped at the valley rim, and about a half hour later my classmates showed up. They wanted to hike up the dome, but I decided to stay where I was, because it was so majestically beautiful right there. A mild storm was bringing towering clouds, trailing curtains of rain, over the other side of the valley. I loved being there by myself watching the clouds and rain drift across the steep cliffs (but somehow thankfully not towards me). I don't have the language to properly describe that moment. "Awesome," whatever. I think you know what I mean.
When I was around five or six, I decided to run away from home. There was this cluster of three pine trees a couple of blocks away from our house that stood in a triangle with a small hidden pocket between them. I packed all my books in my Lisa Frank backpack, and an apple with peanut butter and a juice box, and set off for that little grove. I stayed there a few hours and read all the books and ate and drank my supplies, and then I started to worry that my parents would be scared so I walked home. Only to find no one had noticed, haha.
Digging deep down into the past, I still have these memories of walking with my sister (a year younger than me) and being led by our Nana and Baka Eja (our grandmother Nadežda and her older sister Jelena) from our grandparents’ downtown apartment through the city’s most famous pedestrian street until its most popular park (a former Ottoman fortress). This was one of the few streets that the city took care of infesting in, using special cobblestones-whose cracks I avoided of course. We would walk with a plastic bag containing a jump rope and a couple of small balls-one of which was usually deflated. If we were good and the weather was nice, we would be allowed our choice of ice cream. I always chose the cheapest one-a strawberry popsicle-both because I was taught to be modest and because I enjoyed the flavor. It was how I measured inflation over the years-based on its price. The children’s park itself had broken swing chains and missing seesaw seats and everything that could have been stolen or vandalized had been. Only a set of bars-likely too cumbersome to be easily removed-still stood, so I became quite the gymnast in my young childhood by default.
When I was about 5, I loved a song about a kid who is sent to the store for his father. I would beg my mother to let me walk to the store. The thing is, I did not live in a city or even a town. The "corner" store was over a mile away and there were no sidewalks. One day, she let me!
I cannot believe that your question about my first walk made me think back so many years ago. I was 5 years old and I walked 3/4 of a mile, everyday, back and forth to kindergarten. By myself. I recall crossing quite a few streets and at the biggest and busiest intersection, there was a school crossing guard. His name was Harry. He carried a big red stop sign and held it high when he came to escort me across the intersection and again across the trolly tracks. I recall the Cleaners/Laundry sign on the store across the street and laughing to myself when the malfunctioning neon lights on the big L and C were dimmed and the other letters blinked “leaners/aundry”, off and on and I would say to myself, over and over as I skipped along the sidewalk, “leaners/aundry, leaners/aundry”
I thought nothing of the fact that I walked alone for such a long way (for a 5 year old) and was never in fear of anyone or anything.
I know this one! I grew up in Jamaica and lived in a “city” (more of a town) but we had family friends who lived relatively close to us by car, except there was (what seemed like) a decently high hill between us. Usually we’d get dropped off by car, but if my older brothers were game, we’d cut a path through the woods and over the hill.
One day when I was about 6, I’d been dropped off for a visit by car alone. When I decided I’d had enough and wanted to go home, it was still hours before anyone could pick me up. So I decide to walk. By myself. At 6. Through woods and over a hill. It was kind of scary, but I did it and loved every moment of quiet in the midst of all the trees and birds and insects. It was peaceful and I proved to myself that I could do it.
Of course, when I turned up at home by myself after, the grownups were not amused by my stunt. But when I think back in this walk I see the blueprint foe who I still am today. I still love the calm and peace that come from finding my own way and am impatient being on other people’s timelines.
I’ll find my way in the end.
A hike through a nature trail was the first one that bears remembering. The quiet and solitude were a huge contrast from the busy main city. It was very centering.
When I was in middle school, my dad was unemployed for some time. When he wasn't looking for a job, he did a five-mile loop around our neighborhood and one day he asked if I wanted to join. I'll admit that he sweetened the deal by saying he'd buy me an Icee when he stopped at the 7-11. So I went with him. Honestly, I don't remember what we talked about (if we even talked much as my dad wasn't a chatty man) but I do remember that he had very strong calves and wondered if he got them by walking so much while he wasn't working. I wondered if he missed working. He would walk at the same time every day as if it was an appointment he always wanted to keep. I sometimes feel like since he couldn't show his daughter where he worked, this was his opportunity to share his one ritual of the day with me.
When I was a kid, I was lucky enough to travel a lot with my parents, and the two walks that come to mind are along a beach in Cape Cod -- I remember coming up over a seagrass-strewn dune, onto the beach, where I explored tide pools and chased crabs -- and a hike in Yosemite. My parents were not outdoors-types, but I remember leaving our little cabin and ending up at a waterfall. I don't remember many other specifics, but it was my first realization of the grandiosity of nature.
A hot summer in the early 1980s. The English Lake District. My mum, younger brother and I stayed in a youth hostel for a glorious week, all very communal but we were poor. We walked from the hostel at Elterwater, up the Langdale Valley and then to Stickle Tarn, underneath the Langdale Pike mountains. It was hot and the ascent - to a ten year old - seemed to go on forever. God knows how my little brother managed it. The tarn (small lake) at the top was icy cold and we didn't swim in it, but reaching it was magnificent. Then back to the valley and a long hot but thankfully flat walk to the hostel. Absolutely knackered. Twenty years later and I was hiking the Biafo-Hispar traverse in Pakistan, the longest stretch of glaciers outside the polar regions, and finding it fairly casual - all thanks to the seed planted on that day.
Bicentennial summer, my friend and I walked all over our hometown, seemingly every day. I am not sure why we walked instead of rode bikes but we did. We lived about a mile apart, so every morning we each left home and met in the middle. We backtracked slightly and headed to the center of town, consisting of the library, deli, firehouse, and The Scoop, our candy and newspaper store. Bought candy and then headed to our softball coach’s house and hung out with her daughters. Eventually walked home. I don’t ever remember it raining or us eating lunch anywhere. The most exciting thing that happened was the time we caused an accident. We were on the sidewalk, approaching a traffic light and my friend said “there’s our Avon lady!” and started waving wildly at a woman in a car. The woman waved back and was distracted enough that she rear-ended the next car at the light. We ran off.
My grandpa retired the year before I was born and I spent a lot of time with him as a child. Monday through Friday he would walk around a nearby lake and did so until just a few years before he passed away. From as early as I can remember I would go along when he was taking care of me, or my mom and I would sometimes join him after she came home from work. He had a really hard childhood and was displaced by WW2 as a young adult, so he didn't travel a lot once he settled down. I think he really loved the comfort of the same routine almost every day so he never wavered from that certain lake.
My mom used to go for walks after dinner and used to drag me along. One night we walked by this very rich house that had a driveway lined with rocks. Someone had taken the time to paint the tops of all of the rocks white, right down to where the rocks met the ground. I said to my mom that we should flip over all of the rocks to ruin the white paint. It made my Mom laugh the hardest I had ever made her laugh.
She passed away when I was 16 and I’ve forgotten most of our evening walks. But every time I’m home and I run by the same driveway with the same white rocks I think of her laugh.
When I was 14 I visited my oldest brother and his wife in Japan where they had been teaching English. My sister-in-law was flying back with me at the end of my visit and my brother was flying home 3 months later. In order to give them some time to say goodbye without me around, the night before my SIL and I were leaving, I was sent to the store in Shinmatsudo to pick up the very specific recycling bags they used. At 14 I was super shy and far more afraid of everything than I am now. I was a solitary child and spent my younger years in my room reading about fictional adventures rather than going on my own. This trip to Japan was the first time I had ever flown by myself. There were other meaningful walks before this one, but walking to the store that evening was one of the first that I can remember doing on my own. They'd only taken me to the store once or twice during my visit and while I was scared, I was pretty sure I remembered the way. And I did. I made it there and back AND got the right kind of recycling bags.
When I was in third grade, my family moved (my parents bought their first house) and I changed elementary schools. The school wasn't that far away, so my mom arranged for me to walk home with a few kids who lived on our street. Only ... they were not thrilled with this new interloper. The first day, walking home, one of the girls whirled around and said "why are you FOLLOWING me???" in that way only an 8-year-old can be mean. I didn't know what to say, so I just started crying. Somehow I got home - it was only a block or two at that point - and told my mom and ... honestly I don't remember what happened after that, except that eventually I was allowed to walk home on my own (there were always other kids around). And, months later, that girl and I actually became friends. Though I don't remember if she ever apologized.
The details are fuzzy, but I'll never forget how I felt in that moment.
I remember my first meaningful walk must have been London. A quick bio- London is what I live for. I started going when I was 4, and I haven't stopped since. Once, a few years ago, we were in a new location we were renting: Kensington. On the first day, my mother had extreme jet lag, and fell straight asleep. My dad and I, however, tried to Walk It Off, quite literally. We walked... and walked... and my dad's "acute sense of direction" failed him. We were lost. However, I spotted something in the distance. Sustenance. We were hungry. We stumbled upon a Pizza Express. There we managed to rest, eat delicious pizza, and figure out how to get back home. After that day, anywhere we stayed in London was near a Pizza Express (quite coincidentally), and that's where we would go.
What a thought-provoking question! It made me realize how many “walking” expressions we have.
Getting married is “walking down the aisle”; if you want someone to leave you say “take a hike!”something easy is a “walk in the park”; a non-speaking stage role is a “walk-on part”; a famous musical tells us “you’ll never walk alone”; a grim execution is to “walk the plank”.....whew!
It was with my friend right before the pandemic began. We hooked elbows and strolled through the park like two old farts stealing back time. We don’t talk anymore.
I think it was walking around my neighborhood - I also lived within walking distance of most of the schools I went to, and most of my friends were relatively close by. It's all the more meaningful to me now as an adult because I grew up in the same house my entire childhood, and my mom had to sell it/leave it a few years ago (I am now in my early 30's). I have a particular attachment because those childhood walks/runs around the neighborhood turned into walking to my first job, which was also close by, or later going for runs in the same area. I haven't been there much in about 5 years since she left it but I can still picture every street corner and how it looked across the seasons.
I had not thought about this walk in decades, until your prompt. I had a fraught home life growing up and college was an unlikely dream. But I received a scholarship that covered tuition, and my mother found me a room in a boarding house near the school. (I did not yet know about financial aid so dorms were not an option.) The first day of school, I took the bus into the city, knowing I would never really go “home” again. After classes I walked the street my boarding house was on with this momentous sense of transition in my life, but I came to the end of the street and could not find the house! I suddenly felt entirely lost. Fortunately, it was a relatively short time before some one pointed out that the parkway divided my street, and I just had to cross it and continue on. That walk marked a moment of great significance for me, and I thank you for the prompt reminding me of it.