Colin Fletcher described walking as “…a quite delectable madness, very good for sanity”. I am in complete agreement. Years ago I was introduced to the “long grassy ridge”, ten minutes drive from where Fletcher then lived, which shows up in various of Fletchers writings, unidentified by him, but which I have always liked to believe to have been Mt. Tamalpais State Park in Marin County, north of San Francisco. Or Muir Woods. Or maybe it was Golden Gate National Recreation Area.
Or maybe not.
It very well could have been one of the many state or regional parks of the East Bay. I suppose I will never know.
I never met Fletcher, although we lived on the same coast, if not within exactly the same generation, and so came to know him through his books. Having read most of them, I always wished I might have known him, if only a brief introduction at a signing. Fletcher was, nonetheless, the companion who came along on my limited and usually solitary offroad adventures along forest trails and ocean beaches. His words, his philosophy, his admiration of the earth he traversed came with me. From his writings, I knew him to be spare, rugged, entrepreneurial and adventurous, but at the same time possessing a dry Britannic wit and gentle soul. His dedication in “The Complete Walker” is to his mother, “…who understood that walking for fun is no crazier than most things in life, and who passed the information along.”
Fletcher nominally wrote of backpacking, seldom using the verb form but instead referring to the more generic “walking”, undertaken in an extended form, distances long enough to take one far enough to require equipment for shelter, sleeping and cooking. As a young man, f newly graduated from high school in the late 60’s, I was captivated with the concept of going beyond the designated campsite by the road where I camped with my family, to wilder places, carrying everything I would need for the kind of long walks Fletcher described and wrote about. Simply walking, but with a “house on your back”, as Fletcher call it.
I have all Fletcher's books. They are and have been, collectively, my favorite form of armchair adventure.