WALKING—FROM THE SIDEWALKS OF NEW YORK TO THE FORESTS OF CALIFORNIA

The El Dorado National Forest stretches across thousands of acres, where varied rocks and water supplies support all manner of conifers—pines, cedars, redwoods, firs—as well as oaks, maples. and madrones. I could roam happily anywhere along its trails in northern California and Nevada, but most often I take the easy, paved Cedar Park trail. That park is in the portion of the forest that borders my companion’s land, and I can reach it by climbing up the hill just behind the house. Here at home I can see black-tailed deer, jackrabbits, and even coyotes. Sometimes we hear the scream of a cougar from across the valley, but have never seen one. Bears, too, are fortunately rare here, though one wanders in from the hills once in a while.

Today I climbed the hill through a shower of golden oak leaves. This is the loveliest of seasons in California; autumn is giving way to winter, and we have already had one brief snowstorm. The hill itself is the only difficult part of the walk; the grade is steep, obstructed by rocks and manzanita, and rattlesnakes occasionally sunbathe there. Once safely at the top of the hill, though, I can easily follow the mile-long circular path around to the overlook. From there I can look many miles to the east and see the snow-covered peaks of the Sierra.

The first time I walked the Cedar Park trail, I was highly amused—it’s wide and paved, with benches at intervals where walkers can rest. Hiking in New York’s Central Park, or San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park, is much more strenuous! However, if you want a difficult hike, there are always places to find it. Having this trail near at foot is a pleasure.

The spot where I enter the trail is near one bench, so I may stop to check my bootlaces, drink a little water, and listen to the sounds of the forest. Sometimes I hear only jays, crows, and yellowthroat warblers; at other times, there may be distant traffic noise from Sly Park Road. Walking down a hill, I may meet another walker or two, but the trail is never crowded.

Trails around lakes and through forests have always appealed to me, but I didn’t have easy access to them until moving away from Alameda. Here my companion and I can roam in our own forest at will, or drive for a couple of hours farther up into the mountains. In hot weather, particularly, we may drive up a few thousand feet to Silver Lake, where there are pleasant campgrounds with trees and water. Our favorite trail here follows a creek where large boulders create cascades.

Many people pitch tents at the Silver Lake campground, and before getting the RV, so did we. But one night a bear wandered through our campsite, too close to the tent for comfort, and we decided it was time for something more substantial than a tent. The rig we chose is a Winnebago View, a “just right” vehicle that is small enough to drive nearly anywhere, but large enough for everything we need. Only the hardiest tent campers can stay on the road more than a week or so, but in the View we can travel for months at a time. Suddenly a new collection of state and national parks, Forest Service campgrounds, and other delights were available.

The best parts of the national parks are the hiking trails, where usually only a short walk makes it possible to leave the pack and find communion only with the natural world. When we spent a few days in Yosemite one January, snow and ice kept most visitors off the trails, but we drove the View to the base of Yosemite Falls at dawn one day, and had that popular trail almost to ourselves. The air was cold and still, except for the cracking of ice at the peak of the falls, and no animal tracks dotted the snow. We  walked in silence between snow-covered rocks and across a small stone bridge over the Merced River.

Appealing as the national parks are, I like less-known places even better. We often stay in Forest Service campgrounds, where we may have a source of water, but no electricity or other conveniences. Most campers in these primitive campgrounds want to get away from it all as much as we do, so we seldom have to contend with the sound of generators or noisy parties. Occasionally we may have an entire campground to ourselves, which is pure bliss.

Walking on the Forest Service trails is usually an adventure, and not always a pleasant one. We have coped with mosquitoes, mud, and other hazards. The hiker feels very alone there, with no friendly park ranger coming along to give a feeling of security, and I suppose the trails could be dangerous. They seem safer than many city streets, though, and offer a glimpse of the wild beauty explorers found in the West centuries ago.

The most dangerous walks I’ve taken were not in forests, but in large cities. Only a foolhardy woman would stride along a street in Chicago or New York with a purse swinging at her side, or while wearing conspicuous, expensive jewelry. City walking has its own appeal, though. When I moved to New York in 1970, when it was still possible for a young editor to afford a decent apartment, I lived on East 88^th St., not far from Gracie Mansion. Being unable to see more than a patch of sky gave me a claustrophobic feeling, and so I often walked along the East River to gaze out over the water. When I discovered that taking the subway or bus to my job at Random House in the rush hours was simply horrendous, I began walking to work. It took about 40 minutes each way, and was very enjoyable. Starting in my neighborhood, I could look in the windows of German and Hungarian restaurants and bakeries. As I continued through the eighties and seventies, tall apartment buildings gave way to more and more shops; in the sixties and fifties, to even taller office buildings.

At 50^th St. and Third Avenue, I reached Random House. All along the way I had seen fascinating people, art galleries, shops filled with crafts, florists, and books galore. For a young woman from the Middle West it was an overwhelming experience.

The daily long walk kept me healthy and slim, and taught me the value of daily walking in whatever environment I find myself. I am in my seventies now, yet go for long walks whenever possible. The idea of joining a gym for exercise seems laughable. (I do have a stationary bike for use in snowy or rainy weather.) If everyone walked to work or school, or even to a bus stop or train station, it might be a major step in fighting the obesity epidemic.