Going Afoot: A book on walking.

by Bayard Henderson Christy

Development of the Pedestrian Resources of Some Particular Region

This should be an aim of every walking club. The region to be developed will in many—in most cases, indeed—be the region about home. Clubs in large cities, however, and clubs situated in regions not suitable for walking, may well turn attention, wholly or in part, to regions far from home. The mountainous parts of a continent are the natural recreation grounds for the whole people, and those who live far away may still have their proper share in making these parts more readily available. In the Alps, the pedestrian is pleased to find the lodges where he stops at night called by the names of distant cities, whose citizens maintain them—Breslauerhütte, for example, or Dusseldorferhütte. In this country, too, the Green Mountain Club (see [page 84]) has its New York Section; and to the New York Section it has allotted a certain portion of the Long Trail (a length of fifty miles). The New York club, accordingly, while not neglectful of pedestrianism at home, opens, develops, and maintains its part of the route in Vermont, and conducts annually a hike in that region.

The development of a region involves observation and putting into communicable form the results of observation, and it may and ordinarily does involve further a greater or less amount of physical preparation. First of all, the region must be traversed, and that again and again, under varying conditions of season and climate, and thus thoroughly known. Maps, if available, must be carefully studied, and particular attention must be given to distances, steepness of roads, and to the nature of the footing—whether the way be rough or smooth, hard or soft, wet or dry. Note should be made of obstructions, such as briars, fallen trees, and unbridged streams. The possibility of using railways and trolley lines to widen the available area should not be forgotten. Hotels should be noted, and restaurants, and farmhouses, where rest and refreshment may be had; and, in the wilderness, camp sites should be selected.

Observation should next be directed to such natural resources as may engage the attention and interest of the pedestrian: scenery, of course, hilltops, waterfalls, and such matters; then to plant and animal life, and that with the interests of sportsmen and lovers of natural science particularly in mind. Attention should be given to geology and to mineral deposits. Then the history of the region should be studied, its traditions learned, and its monuments considered—distinctive and characteristic matters touching the life of the people, industries, factories, public works, and buildings.

All of these matters should be taken into account, with a view to making the results of observation and study generally available.

Trail Making

“Of trail making there are three stages. There is dreaming the trail, there is prospecting the trail, there is making the trail. Of the first one can say nothing—dreams are fragile, intangible. Prospecting the trail—there lies perhaps the greatest of the joys of trail work. It has a suggestion of the thrill of exploration. No one of us but loves still to play explorer. And here there is just a bit of the real thing to keep the play going. Picking the trail route over forested ridges calls for every bit of the skill gained in our years of tramping. There is never time to go it slow, to explore every possibility. Usually there is one hasty day to lay out the line for a week’s work. For a basis there is the look of the region, from some distant point, from a summit climbed last year, perhaps. For a help, there is the compass, but in our hill country we use it little. Partly we go by imperfect glimpses from trees climbed, from blow-down edges, from small cliffs—but chiefly we feel the run of the land, its lift and slope and direction. The string from the grocer’s cone unwinds behind—an easy way of marking and readily obliterated when we go wrong. We pay little heed to small difficulties, those are for the trail makers to solve. Only a wide blow-down, a bad ledge, a mistake in general direction, cause us to double back a bit and start afresh.…

“Making trail is the more plodding work; yet has reliefs and pleasures of its own. Each day, as the gang works along the string line, problems of detail arise. Ours is no gang of uninterested hirelings. If the line makes a suspicious bend, the prospectors have to explain or correct.… Decision made, the gang scatters along the line, each to a rod or two, for we find working together is not efficient.[4]”

As has already been said, a club ordinarily will find occasion to do some work of physical preparation of its pedestrian routes. Highways are ordinarily beyond control, but byways are not. The opening of trails, cutting away of briars and windfalls, making the footing sure for a man under a pack, the building of footways and handrails in dangerous places, the cleaning of springs and providing water basins and troughs, the marking of trails—all these matters are such as manifestly should engage a club’s energies.