Wandering

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“I don't like either the word [hike] 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.”  (John Muir)

Years ago, on a family trip somewhere, my brother made the comment that as little kids we used to go exploring. We'd be out all afternoon, in the backyard or at neighborhood parks, and if someone asked us what we were doing, we'd say "Exploring!" You go down wood paths you haven't been down, you look around corners just to see what's there, you crouch down and spend untold minutes watching all the caterpillar's legs ripple, or the ants carrying their trappings, or the squirrel rapping his tiny knuckles on a nut.

When did we stop doing that, he asked. When did we stop looking at the world like our only task was to discover it, no checklist, no obligation to the name of Productivity, just wide-eyed kids trying to see what was out there.

In Switzerland, the hiking trail signs all read "Wanderweg." If you ask Swiss people the word for "hike," they'll say wandern, but wandern is also the word for "wander" which makes me think they actually only have a word for "wander" and that there really is no German word for hike. For example, last week, a Swiss lady recounting her day to me said, "I've been wandering today!" (With her accent, at first I thought she said "wondering" so I stared at her expectantly...what have you been wondering about?? Haha)

When you wander instead of hike, you take the time to look at the underbellies of mushrooms. You count waterfalls in the peaks miles away. You get close enough to the stoney mountain walls that you can see their tiny striations. When you wander, you give the mountain enough time to talk to you, and you give yourself enough time to hear it.