Indeed, in spite of it, I was drawn one night to Assisi, where
St. Francis had lived. Late in the evening I started on to
Foligno in order to take a train in to Rome for Easter morning.
I followed a white road that wound around the hills, through
silent clusters of cottages tightly shut up with only a slit of
light visible now and then, meeting not a human being along the
way save three somber figures accompanying an ox cart, a man at
the head of the oxen and a man and a woman at the tail of the
cart--a theme for Millet. (I asked in broken Italian how far
it was to Foligno, and the answer was, ‘_Una hora_’--distance
in time and not in miles.) Off in the night I could see the
lights of Perugia, and some time after midnight I began to see
the lights of Foligno--of Perugia and Foligno, where Raphael
had wandered and painted. The adventure of it all was that when
I reached Foligno I found that it was a walled town, that the
gate was shut, and that I had neither passport nor intelligible
speech. There is an interesting walking sequel to this journey.
I carried that night a wooden water-bottle, such as the Italian
soldiers used to carry, filling it from the fountain at the
gate of Assisi before starting. Just a month later, under the
same full moon, I was walking between midnight and morning in
New Hampshire. I had the same water-bottle and stopped at a
spring to fill it. When I turned the bottle upside down, a few
drops of water from the fountain of Assisi fell into the New
England spring, which for me, at any rate, has been forever
sweetened by this association.
“All my long night walks seem to me now as but preparation for
one which I was obliged to make at the outbreak of the war
in Europe. I had crossed the Channel from England to France,
on the day that war was declared by England, to get a boy of
ten years out of the war zone. I got as far by rail as a town
between Arras and Amiens, where I expected to take a train on
a branch road toward Dieppe; but late in the afternoon I was
informed that the scheduled train had been canceled and that
there might not be another for twenty-four hours, if then.
Automobiles were not to be had even if I had been able to pay
for one. So I set out at dusk on foot toward Dieppe, which was
forty miles or more distant. The experiences of that night
would in themselves make one willing to practice walking for
years in order to be able to walk through such a night in whose
dawn all Europe waked to war. There was the quiet, serious
gathering of the soldiers at the place of rendezvous; there
were the all-night preparations of the peasants along the way
to meet the new conditions; there was the pelting storm from
which I sought shelter in the niches for statues in the walls
of an abandoned château; there was the clatter of the hurrying
feet of soldiers or gendarmes who properly arrested the
wanderer, searched him, took him to a guard-house, and detained
him until certain that he was an American citizen and a friend
of France, when he was let go on his way with a ‘_Bon voyage_’;
there was the never-to-be-forgotten dawn upon the harvest
fields in which only old men, women, and children were at work;
there was the gathering of the peasants with commandeered
horses and carts in the beautiful park on the water-front at
Dieppe; and there was much besides; but they were experiences
for the most part which only one on foot could have had.”
In answer to a request for a contribution to this handbook, Dr. Finley
replies generously, and to the point:
“I have never till now, so far as I can recall, tried to set
down in order my reasons for walking by night. Nor am I aware
of having given specific reasons even to myself. It has been
sufficient that I have enjoyed this sort of vagrancy. But since
it has been asked, I will try to analyze the enjoyment.
“1. The roads are generally freer for pedestrians by night.
One is not so often pushed off into the ditch or into the
weeds at the roadside. There is not so much of dust thrown
into one’s face or of smells into one’s nostrils. More than
this (a psychological and not a physical reason) one is not
made conscious by night of the contempt or disdain of the
automobilist, which really contributes much to the discomfort
of a sensitive traveler on foot by day. I have ridden enough
in an automobile to know what the general automobile attitude
toward a pedestrian is.
“2. Many landscapes are more beautiful and alluring by
moonlight or by starlight than by sunlight. The old Crusader’s
song intimates this: ‘Fair is the sunlight; fairer still the
moonlight and all the twinkling starry host.’ And nowhere in
the world have I appreciated this more fully than out in Asia
Minor, Syria, and Palestine, where the Crusaders and Pilgrims
walked by night as well as by day. But I have particularly
agreeable memories, too, of the night landscapes in the Green
Mountains.
“3. By night one is free to have for companions of the way whom
one will out of any age or clime, while by day one is usually
compelled, even when one walks alone, to choose only from the
living and the visible. In Palestine, for example, I was free
to walk with prophet, priest, and king by night, while by day
the roads were filled with Anzacs and Gurkhas and Sikhs, and
the like. Spirits walk by day, but it takes more effort of
the imagination to find them and detach them. One of my most
delightful night memories is of a journey on foot over a road
from Assisi that St. Francis must have often trod.
“4. There is always the possibility of adventure by night.
Nothing can be long or definitely expected, and so the
unexpected is always happening. I have been ‘apprehended’--I do
not like to say ‘arrested’--several times when walking alone
at night. Once, in France, I was seized in the street of a
village through which I was passing with no ill intent, taken
to a guard-house and searched. But that was the night of the
day that war was declared. Once, and this was before the war, I
was held up in Rahway, toward midnight, when I was walking to
Princeton. I was under suspicion simply because I was walking,
and walking soberly, in the middle of the road.
“5. By day one must be conscious of the physical earth
about one, even if there is no living humanity. By night,
particularly if one is walking in strange places, one may take
a universe view of things. Especially is this true if the stars
are ahead of one and over one.
“6. Then it is worth while occasionally to see the whole circle
of a twenty-four hour day, and especially to walk into a dawn
and see ‘the eye-lids of the day.’ I had the rare fortune to be
on the road in France when the dawn came that woke all Europe
to war. And I was again on the road one dawn when the war was
coming to its end out in the East.
“7. There are as many good reasons for walking by night as by
day. But no better reason than that one who loves to walk by
night can never fear the shadow of death.
“You will ask if I have any directions to give. I regret to
say that I have not. I seldom walk with else than a stick, a
canteen of water, and a little dried fruit in my pocket--and a
box of matches, for sometimes it is convenient to be able to
read signboards and kilometer posts even by night.”
SPEED AND DISTANCE
Stevenson speaks contemptuously of “the championship walker in purple
stockings,” and indeed it is well to heed moderate counsel, lest, in
enthusiasm for _walking_, one misses after all the supreme joys of a
_walk_. At the same time, there is danger of too little as well as of
too much. To loiter and dilly-dally (to borrow again Stevenson’s phrase)
changes a walk into something else--something more like a picnic.
Really to walk one should travel with swinging stride and at a good round
pace. Ten or twenty miles covered vigorously are not half so wearying to
body nor to mind as when dawdled through. One need not be “a champion
walker in purple stockings” covering five miles an hour and fifty miles a
day.
If one is traveling without burden, he should do three and a half to
four miles an hour; if he carries twenty pounds, his pace should be not
more than three and a half; and if he carries thirty, it should be three
miles an hour, at most. When traveling under a load, one has no mind to
run; on an afternoon’s ramble, one may run down gentle grades “for the
fun of it,” but on the hike it is best always to keep one foot on the
ground. The perennial, weekly, conditioning walk should require about
three hours; and the distance covered should be at least ten miles. On
a tour, continued day after day, one should ordinarily walk for five,
six, or seven hours a day, and cover, on the average, fifteen to twenty
miles. With three weeks to spare, one has, say, ten to fifteen walking
days--rain may interfere, there are things to be seen, one does not want
to walk every day. At the average rate of twenty miles a day--which one
can easily do under a fifteen-pound pack--the distance covered should be
200 to 250 miles. If one carries thirty pounds, he travels more slowly,
and makes side trips, and covers a stretch of say a hundred miles of
country.
The figures given are applicable to walking in comparatively level
regions; in mountain climbing, of course, they do not hold. To ascend
three thousand feet in elevation, at any gradient, is at the least a
half-day’s work; it may be much more. Furthermore, in mountaineering at
great and unaccustomed altitudes--8,000 feet and upwards--great care must
be taken against over exertion. One who has had experience in ascending
Alpine peaks will remember that, under the leadership of his guides, he
was required to stop and rest for fifteen minutes in each hour, to eat an
Albert biscuit, and to drink a swallow of tea mixed with red wine.
Professor William Morris Davis, in “Excursions around Aix-les-Bains,”
gives the following notes upon speed in mountain-climbing:
“While walking up hill, adopt a moderate pace that can be
steadily maintained, and keep going. Inexperienced climbers are
apt to walk too fast at first and, on feeling the strain of a
long ascent, to become discouraged and “give it up”; or if
they persist to the top, they may be tempted to accept bodily
fatigue as an excuse for the indolent contemplation of a view,
the full enjoyment of which calls for active observation. Let
these beginners remember that many others have shared their
feelings, but have learned to regard temporary fatigue as
a misleading adviser. There is no harm done if one becomes
somewhat tired; exhaustion is prevented by reducing the pace
when moderate fatigue begins. Let the mind rest on agreeable
thoughts while the body is working steadily during a climb;
when the summit is reached, let the body rest as comfortably
as possible while the mind works actively in a conscious
examination of the view. Avoid the error of neglecting the view
after making a great effort in attaining the view point.
“An ascent of 400 or 475 m. [1300-1550 feet] an hour may
ordinarily be made on a mountain path; where paths are wanting,
ascent is much slower; where rock climbing is necessary, slower
still. Descent is usually much shortened by cutoffs at zigzags
in the path of ascent: the time of descent may be only a half
or a third of that required for ascent.”
One should not set out on any tour, whether in the mountains or
elsewhere, and, without preparation, undertake to do twenty miles a day.
During the weeks preceding departure, one should be careful not to miss
his ten-mile weekly hike; and he should, if possible, get out twice a
week, and lengthen the walks.
In planning his itinerary, he will not fix the average distance and walk
up to it each day. Let him go about the matter gradually--fifteen miles
the first day, twenty the second; on the third day let him lie by and
rest, and on the fourth do twenty again. With the fourth day he will find
his troubles ended. The second day is, usually, the hardest--ankles
tired, feet tender, shoulders lame from the burden of the knapsack; but,
by sticking at it bravely through the afternoon, the crest of difficulty
will be overpassed.
In this matter of speed and distance, figures are to be accepted with
freedom. Individuals vary greatly in capacity. The attempt has been made
to give fair estimates--a rate and range attainable by a fairly vigorous,
active man, with clear gain. The caution should be subscribed, “Do not
try to do too much.”
STUNT WALKING
These are tests of endurance in speed, in distance, or in both; the play
of the habitual pedestrian. Discussion of the matters of _speed_ and
_distance_ gives opportunity for the introduction, somewhat illogically,
of this and the following sections.
There is, in the environs of a certain city, a walk of ten miles or
better, a favorite course with a little company of pedestrians. No month
passes that they do not traverse it. Normally, they spend two hours and
a half on the way; if some slower-footed friend be of the party, it
requires an hour more; their record, made by one of their number, walking
alone, is two hours and twelve minutes.
Fired by the example of a distinguished pedestrian, who in the newspapers
was reported to have walked seventy-five miles on his seventy-fifth
birthday, one of the company just mentioned essayed to do the like--a
humbler matter in his own case. He is, however, so far advanced into
middle age that he won with a good margin the trophy of the League of
Walkers, given to every member who covers thirty miles afoot in a single
day.
CHAMPIONSHIP WALKING--WORLD’S RECORDS
EVENT TIME HOLDER NATION DATE
1 mile--6m. 25 4-5s. G. H. Goulding Canada June 4, 1901
2 miles--13m. 11 2-5s. G. E. Larner England July 13, 1904
3 miles--20m. 25 4-5s. G. E. Larner England Aug. 19, 1905
4 miles--27m. 14s. G. E. Larner England Aug. 19, 1905
5 miles--36m. 1-5s. G. E. Larner England Sept. 30, 1905
6 miles--43m. 26 1-5s. G. E. Larner England Sept. 30, 1905
7 miles--50m. 50 4-5s. G. E. Larner England Sept. 30, 1905
8 miles--58m. 18 2-5s. G. E. Larner England Sept. 30, 1905
9 miles--1h. 7m. 37 4-5s. G. E. Larner England July 17, 1908
10 miles--1h. 15m. 57 2-5s. G. E. Larner England July 17, 1908
15 miles--1h. 59m. 12 3-5s. H. V. Ross England May 20, 1911
20 miles--2h. 47m. 52s. T. Griffith England Dec. 30, 1870
25 miles--3h. 37m. 6 4-5s. S. C. A. Schofield England May 20, 1911
1 hr.--8 miles 438 yards. G. E. Larner England Sept. 20, 1905
2 hrs.--15 miles 128 yards. H. V. L. Ross England May 20, 1911
COMPETITIVE WALKING
Mr. George Goulding, the Canadian world’s champion, has generously
contributed the following paragraphs on Competitive Walking. The
definition of a “fair gate,” taken by Mr. Goulding for granted, is, “one
in which one foot touches the ground before the other leaves it, only one
leg being bent in stepping, namely, that which is being put forward.”
“In the present mad scramble of the business world, men forget
the need of exercise; they are intent on rapid transit, but
give little thought to walking. Walking is the natural mode of
travel, it is one of the best forms of exercise, and should be
engaged in by everyone, and by most people in larger degree.
“If ordinary walking for health and recreation has fallen
into disuse, so has speed walking in competition. There are,
however, still a few of the old school left, in Weston,
O’Leary, Ward, and others, who remind us of the time when the
art of fast walking was more highly esteemed in the athletic
world.
“You have asked me to give my ideas on fair heel and toe
walking for competition, or speed walking, and in replying I
ask you at the outset to take Webster’s Dictionary from your
shelf and see what the definition of _walk_ is: ‘To proceed
[at a slower or faster rate] without running or lifting one
foot entirely before the other is set down.’ Based on that
definition, a set of rules has been drawn up to govern the
sport, differentiating a fast walk from a running trot. The
chief thing for the novice just starting is to get thoroughly
acquainted with the rules and stick to them, never violating
them in the slightest.
“I cannot here make minute comment upon all the rules of
championship walking, but I will do my best to bring out in
a brief way the essentials. To simplify and make vivid what
I have in mind to say, let the reader accompany me to some
athletic track and see with me a bunch of walkers in action.
“It is a principle of walking which I have set before myself,
to economize effort, to attain maximum speed with minimum
expenditure of strength; but you do not see that principle
carried out by all the walkers before you on the track. One
fellow over there is twisting his body on the back stretch
in an awful contortion, showing he is not a natural walker.
Another, just behind him, is jumping in a jerky way all the
time, owing to the fact that he is not using his hips to
advantage. But look at this young chap just taking the turn,
how smoothly he works! What freedom of action he has! Look at
his hop motion! In order to get a better view, let us step
out upon the track. Now see how his hip is brought well round
at each stride, the right being stretched out a little to the
left, and the left in the next stride to the right, in order
that he can bring his feet, one directly in front of the other.
Notice that he walks in a perfectly straight line. That is to
say, if a direct line were drawn around the track, he would
place each foot alternately upon it. Bear in mind that the
shortest distance between any two points is a straight line. By
this time the walker has passed us, and we get a view of him
from the field. In contrast with the other contestants, he does
not seem to have any hip action. That is because his stride
is perfectly straight, no overlapping; his stride shoots out
right from the waist; he gets into it every possible inch, and
yet there is no disturbance of the smoothness of his action.
And with his perfect stride note how he works his feet to
advantage: the right foot comes to the ground heel first, and
as the left leg is swung in front of the right, the ball of the
right comes down; then, as the right foot rises to the toe
position, the heel of the left strikes the ground and in turn
takes the weight of the body. Notice how one foot is on the
ground all the time; there is no possibility of a lift. A good
test, to judge whether a walker is ‘lifting’ or not, is to note
whether his head moves in a straight line; for, when one lifts,
the head moves up and down.
“Now notice the difference in the way the different men ‘lock’
their knees. The knee should be perfectly straight or ‘locked’
as the foremost foot reaches the ground, and should continue
so through the beginning of the stride. It is easier to reach
forward with a straight knee than with a bent one. As the heel
comes to contact with the ground, the weight of the body is
shifted from the rearward to the forward foot, and the leg
that has just swung forward now begins to propel the body.
The straightened knee is at this instant locked. The ‘lock’
should be decided and complete. Remember this clearly, that
the knee should be first straight and then locked. A knee bent
throughout the stride is not to be approved. The rules call for
a fair heel and toe walk, with a stiff knee, and we have got to
live up to them.
“With our walkers still in view as they go around the track,
let us study their arm motion. Notice how that fellow is
slashing away across his chest. That is not necessary. Neither
is the action of the man just ahead of him, who is throwing his
arms away out laterally from the hips. Now look at the fellow
with the freedom of action we have already noted. His arms are
fairly low, they do not rise higher than the breast. On the
forward swing of his arm the elbow does not pass the hip, and
on the backward swing the hand does not pass the hip. The man
does not carry corks. (The less concentration of mind upon the
action of muscles the better.)
“I think I have illustrated the chief points involved in
walking according to the rules laid down. Perhaps a summary of
the rules for fair heel and toe walk will be useful:
“_Hip motion_: Just enough twist or curve given to bring the
feet alternately in one straight line.
“_Leg action_: Below the waist shoot the leg out in a straight
clean drive to its full, natural limit: hip locked, knee
locked, and free play given the foot.
“_Foot action_: The heel of the right foot strikes the ground
first. As the left leg is swung in front of the right, the foot
of the right comes down flat, then, as it is raised to toe
position, the heel of the left strikes the ground and in turn
takes the weight of the body.
“_Carriage of the body_: To be perfectly upright, with the
center of gravity on the heels, the head all the time traveling
in a straight line.
“_Knee action_: Knee to be straight at first and afterwards
locked.
“_Arm action_: Arms act with the shoulders to give good
balance. Keep them fairly low, not ascending any higher than
the nipples; good even swing; hand and elbow alternately
reaching the hips.
“_Hands_: Recommended to be kept loose, corks not necessary.
“Having pointed out to you wherein individuals differ, and
having indicated what constitutes a fair heel and toe walk, a
few hints on training may be helpful. My first advice to any
athletic aspirant is to undergo a medical examination, in order
to find out if he is strong enough constitutionally to risk
strenuous track work without injury to his health. I would
further suggest that such an examination be an annual affair.
“What is the purpose of training? We train to gain efficiency
in whatever branch of sport we enter. To train properly one
must concentrate attention upon whatever pertains to his
particular sport. Through such attention one strengthens
the muscles and nerves, gains knowledge of the strength he
possesses, so that he can use it in the right way and at the
right time, to attain the maximum amount of speed with the
minimum amount of effort. Training increases strength of mind,
self-confidence, strong nerves, patience, thinking power, and
character.
“The amount of track work needed to prepare for a walking-match
will depend upon the individual, but remember that staying in
bed and reading a set of rules will not do. There is a lot of
hard work ahead. To start with, I would never think of entering
a race without at least three months’ preparation, be it daily
or three times per week. A long and careful training is far
better than a short and severe one, and so I would recommend
easy work for the first month, with a gradual increase of speed
as one goes along. Do not bother with a stop watch until the
second month at the earliest.
“Let me also suggest that one do a little morning calisthenics.
These exercises should focus on developing alertness and
endurance; consequently, light, rapid movements that give the
muscles tone and firmness are the qualities to seek in such
individual exercise.
“I have always found deep breathing a great help when training
for a contest. I always practice deep breathing when out for a
street walk, inhaling through about eight steps, exhaling for a
like period.
“One of the things I learned early in my career was the value
of sun baths. The blood needs light, and one needs pure blood
to win a race. The direct rays of the sun on one’s body will
give it. Of course one should use discretion in taking a sun
bath.
“One should not forget that he needs a lot of sleep--eight
full hours of it. Sleep is necessary for resting not the body
only; it should also be a rest for the mind and the nervous
system. Remember that sleep is not mere rest in the sense of
inaction; sleep is a vital process in repairing and rebuilding
used-up nerve and brain cells, so you see it is essential that
the brain be at rest in order to gain full recuperation.
“As one becomes more advanced in the sport he will realize how
large a part the mind plays in a race. Mental action has a
great deal to do with winning. A man should not be bluffed; let
him make up his mind he is going to win, and that he must not
get rattled; let him have his thoughts well collected, and he
will be all right.”
WHERE TO WALK
TREES
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
Joyce Kilmer.
III
WHERE TO WALK
Anywhere. Surely the pedestrian may claim for his recreation this
advantage: it may be enjoyed when one will and wherever one may be. But
this does not mean that there is no choice, no preference. Says Thoreau
again, “If you would get exercise, go in search of the springs of life.
Think of a man’s swinging dumb-bells for his health, when those springs
are bubbling up in far-off pastures unsought by him!” And Emerson has
this fresh, breezy comment: