In Praise of Paths by Torbjorn Ekelund
The Norwegian word friluftsliv expresses the idea of a life lived in the fresh air. Though current generations spend less time than our predecessors outside, people, like animals, have always wandered. Thus paths were formed, “a visible result of the ceaseless migration of people and animals across continents over centuries.”
“Like a brooding philosopher,” Torbjorn Ekelund walks all the time. When a diagnosis of epilepsy prevented him from driving, he returned to the habit of his rural childhood, and began to travel by shank’s mare. Strolling around in Oslo in spring, he discovered formerly unseen paths. In summer, he walked barefoot, and in autumn he walked to work with his eyes shut. He began using longer walks for recreation. Alone and with a friend, he embarked on increasingly challenging hikes.
We learn along with him the things he learns as a walker. His childhood memories of using stones to break the shells of nuts reminds him that the hazelnut tree was “one of the first to colonize the Norwegian soil after the last glacial period.”
We glimpse him at eighteen with a friend, taking risks in the wilderness, “in that phase of life in which humans have unlimited faith in their own abilities.” We see him with the same friend many years later, carefully planning and carrying out a hike in the Nordmarka, a remote 106,000 acre forest., where the the world’s first ski map was drawn.
During WWII, the Norwegian Resistance hid and planned sabotage in the Nordmarka. Astonishingly, Ecklund’s hike revealed an ancient cabin that displays an emblem and legend left from the time when the Milgar platoon trained there during 1941-5.
The author tells of walking trails around the world, and writes about other walkers. Emma Gatewood outlasted an abusive marriage to walk the Appalachian Trail at age 67, once and then twice more. Bjorn Amsrud walked the entire length of Norway, some 1700 miles.
We follow the author as he tramps along the deeply grooved holloways through the beech forests of Larvik in the footsteps of the Vikings. We’re reminded that from an evolutionary perspective, our bipedal human walking style is “an advantage on par with our large brains,” as it enabled us to carry our young and move rapidly as a group, and “contributed to the development of our hands.” And of course, the refined “dexterity of our fingers” has been crucial in allowing us “to create advanced tools.”
Ekelund also reminds us that although ancient paths “blended into the landscape,” the advent of roads reshaped it. This, in turn, disturbed the seasonal migrations of — “the brown bear, the salmon, the reindeer, the wolf.” This reminded me of the wildlife fences in Banff National Park, and the animal fatality numbers posted on the Yellowhead Highway near Jasper. Without doubt, the “migration routes of animals were interrupted by large unpassable roadways.” At the same time, the “seasonal routes of birds were sundered” by aircraft, and annual fish runs “were cut off by dams and bridges,” as species lost habitat and died out. In the city, humans stopped walking so much, and “streetlamps drove away the dark.”
Walking requires no equipment. As Ecklund humorously comments, “you don’t need spandex pants or a headband or one of those strange upper arm contraptions that joggers often wear.” And speaking of joggers, he contrasts running with walking. By definition, walking means “having one foot on the ground at any given time,” but running “is having both feet located in midair between each step.” While runners focus on their own bodies, walkers notice their surroundings, “No step is ever the same as another,” and it’s always alluring to see “what might be waiting around the next bend.” Walking doesn’t qualify as a sport — because we all do it all the time. Yet by simply walking a little more, we can turn it into an exercise that is immensely beneficial for health, even enabling some people to “walk away from” serious conditions including depression.
I loved reading Ecklund’s book,, and felt like I was like walking beside him while he shared his meandering thoughts. His words evoked many parallel experiences from my own life. More importantly perhaps, his descriptions evoked a sense of Norway, a country I’ve never visited though my paternal grandmother was born there. I felt his book carried me a step closer to the culture and geography of my Nordic relatives.