It’s Good to Have a Secret Hiking Spot

By: Ben Zoltak

Viewing Nature Is Good For the Soul

I walk several “secret hiking spots” and it’s a big part of the richness of where I live and who I am. I lived in Chicago for just over ten years and the main reason I moved back was that I missed more wild places, nature reserves, parks… there’s some of it down in Cook County, but it’s highly urbanized, still worth experiencing, but I missed Wisconsin kind of wild.

In the working-class suburb where I grew up in West Allis, Wisconsin… the closest thing I had was our backyard (only place I’ve ever seen a star-nose mole – Condylura cristata) and the cemetery two blocks away. Eventually I was introduced to more wild places, fishing southern Wisconsin at Phantom Lake with my brother and dad. A few years later overnighting in a hunter’s cabin with my brother and uncles up in Eagle River, then finally spending quality nature time working in the Kettle Moraine State Forest – Northern Unit, building trails, planting trees and native plants, as well as other less noble, but equally important, more recreational types of farting around, like canoeing or playing volleyball.

Science tells us that just viewing nature encourages “cognitive flexibility and attentional control” of our systems, it helps us to relax and heal. It’s the same with getting real sunlight on our skin, without UV protection, as we have lived with in our evolution for millions of years. Then there’s something transient involved, a salient though seasonal aspect something going on in our nearby environment, whether we’re too caught up in our office lights to notice, we are a part of that environment.

The Secret Part of the Secret Spot Isn’t the Spot Itself, But What Your Entire Being Feels as You Hike Through Any Wild Area

My secret hiking spots are in the main, not so secret. Mostly I hike ordinary parks and nature reserves, peppered occasionally with a lesser-known public lot. But I’m often alone, and I sometimes delicately hike meandering game trails, or side lots used by wildlife and forgotten mainly but most lumbering hominids around the area. I’m a big fan of coyote and I find his homes all over the place, from the wildest most desolate places I know, to the backyards bumped up against poodles’ enclosures, she sheds and man caves. There’s something intrinsically satisfying about admiring a wild animal quarters and grounds, being a part of it for a few minutes, and interacting on some level you’re not entirely aware of, but you can feel it getting filled up as you hear the red-tailed hawk overhead, or the crane circling next to it, searching for its gregarious relations.

I’ve slowly been getting into a groove with my writing, and it feels good. Part of my programming is to feel a certain shame about anything that might be conceived as pleasurable, and certainly I still feel that when I’m out hiking. But I’ve learned to let it go, and just enjoy the hike, forget about all the obligations for a while, and just become part of the scenery. Afterall, we often tell our friends to “check out that sunset” or “look at the beautiful woods” so why not walk out into the thing and become a part of it for a while?