Observations from an unhurried life, gathered on early-morning walks.

At 84, I’ve traded Himalayan passes for Hampshire pavements — but the joy of walking hasn’t dimmed.
21 February 2026, Hampshire coast

I’m an ex-UK National Trail walker (10 trails), Himalaya trekker (3 treks), and Madeira levada plodder (many times). Now that I’ve reached the age where the world wakes up after I do, I’ve taken to roaming the quiet streets at dawn — and they have much to say if you listen. I now walk from my front door along suburban pavements, country lanes, coastal and countryside paths, and even a bypass path, typically 6 miles/10 km or more, in a circular route so as not to retrace my steps. Why do I take early-morning walks? To keep fit — and because I relish the solitude. In what season do I walk? All seasons, even if it’s raining and/or cold. Who do I walk with? Nobody, except my wife, occasionally. I wear hearing aids and have difficulty hearing what my companion walker says, which is frustrating for both of us. My wife and I put up with the silence. Also, I like to walk at my own pace, not someone else’s.

These days, the terrain is gentler, but the pleasure is much the same: the rhythm of walking, the quiet of early mornings, and the small surprises that reward the observant. For example:

Discarded Objects by the Wayside

There’s been a change in discarded objects from my National Trail days. There is the usual collection of clothing items, fast-food containers, used tissues, plastic bottles, sweet and biscuit wrappers, and empty cans, but the number of empty cigarette packages has definitely decreased, only to be replaced with used vaping products. Now, there’s a sign of the times.

Discarded empty wine bottles are on the increase – who drinks wine on a country lane and leaves the bottle behind? – and, one month ago, I counted nine single gloves, some on the country lanes and some on the bypass path I walked along. That got me thinking. If you lose a glove and don’t retrace your steps to find it, what do you do with the other glove? The only option is to throw it away, surely? One lost glove results in one by the wayside and one in the dustbin.  Two for the price of one — though neither a bargain nor a joy to find!

Encounters with Dogs

I’m a dog lover, and the dogs I encounter are mostly friendly, leashed or unleashed, but last summer I was scratched on the leg by an overly-friendly dachshund. Fortunately, it was just a claw scratch, not a bite. A bite would have meant a trip for infection or tetanus treatment — not how I want to spend a morning.

Incident in the park with a dachshund, now leashed
6 September 2025

Essential kit: hearing-aid wind-noise mufflers

I am hard of hearing and wear behind-the-ear hearing aids. They’re fine unless I’m walking into a headwind, wherein the microphones on the aids pick up the noise caused by the wind. I liken the noise to two jet engines at full blast, one behind each ear! There are solutions to hearing-aid wind noise, but most require either changes to another form of hearing aid, e.g., in-the-ear, or expensive aids with sophisticated noise cancellation features. A simple solution is to wear a beanie – a close-knit woollen cap for warmth in winter, or a close-fitting cool skull cap to keep the noise down in summer.

Essential Kit: Trekking Poles

I’ve had two total knee replacement operations, one in 2015, the other in 2018. Both knees still work well, but I have difficulty getting to my feet if I trip. Thus, I always walk with two trekking poles to increase my stability and reduce the chance of a full-body trip. If it happens, I use a get-back-up technique similar to that used by skiers to recover from a fall. Additionally, using trekking poles reduces the pressure on the knees and gives the upper body a bit of a workout. I’m sometimes jocularly asked, “Where are your skis?” and I gently explain that I’m using trekking poles, not ski poles. That answer can lead to a lengthy discussion.

Greeting Those I Pass

I’m a firm believer in saying ”Good morning” to those I pass as I walk. I think it’s a nice gesture and helps to forge a community among those whom I meet regularly. If the passers-by look me in the eye, I consider them to be receptive to a friendly greeting. Sometimes, the greeting develops into a short conversation, maybe about the weather (a very British trait) or something happening close by, such as a squabble between two dogs or someone windsurfing and performing daredevil acrobatics.

One such encounter stands out. I was walking along a fairly busy coastal path when I spotted a lady walker approaching me, also using two trekking poles. As we passed, I greeted her with a cheery hello and a smile, whereupon she stopped and raised one of her poles as if to strike me.  I stopped, somewhat confused and preparing to defend myself should she become aggressive. But no, she didn’t attack me. Instead, she lowered her pole and gently tapped it against one of my poles. She then explained that this was her first time using trekking poles and that the shop assistant who sold them to her had told her it was tradition to tap poles if she met a fellow walker with poles. I was her first encounter! In all my years of walking, I had never heard of this tradition, but we engaged in further discussion about how to use poles correctly, setting the height, placing the tips (Nordic versus Hiking), and the stability and support advantages of using poles.

Fifteen minutes later, we repeated the pole tap and parted as best of trekking buddies, with “Have a great walk. Hope to meet you again one day,” farewells.

The Need for Benches and Toilet Facilities

At my mid-octogenarian age, I do feel the need for a short rest now and again, and I take note of where I can sit down. Other than along the busy coastal path and in parks, benches on the paths and trails I walk are as rare as hen’s teeth. I look for logs, low walls, or even a steep bank where I can not only sit down but also get up using the “head over knees over toes” technique. My relief at finding a suitable resting place after, say, two hours of non-stop walking is immense. I sit down slowly, place my elbows on my knees, and gradually bend forward to relieve any back pain. It’s pure joy to do this. After a minute or so in this position, I sit upright and rummage in my rucksack for the water and, if I remembered, the easy-peeler orange. Ten minutes later, I’m back on the trail, refreshed and ready for the remainder of the walk.

As for public toilet facilities, all I will say is I know the location of all such facilities within my walking zone, plus big trees in sheltered spots, and I plan my walk accordingly! “A man has to do what a man has to do when nature calls.”

Trail Pix

I take photographs of things that catch my eye when out walking – a beautiful isolated wild flower or swathes of wild flowers along the edge of a field or bluebells in a wood for example, or a rainbow, or wildlife such as migrating birds or a suburban fox eking an existence from scraps of food found near rubbish bins that have been mauled by marauding sea gulls. Here are some examples…

Still Retired, Still Roaming

Ever since I retired in 2007 and discovered the pleasures of multi-day long-distance walking, I have enjoyed exploring the UK and other countries through the sometimes-gentle, sometimes-strenuous exercise of long-distance walking. I reached my peak through the years 2009 – 2017 with walks up to 195 miles/314 km over 12 days with some daily distances in excess of 20 miles/32 km (Coast-to-Coast, UK, May 2010)); or fighting altitude mountain sickness at heights up to 5,416 metres/17,770 feet in the Himalaya mountains (Thorung La, Annapurna/Mustang Valley, Nepal, April 2009); or walking in the searing temperature of 33°C (90°F) drinking vast amounts of water to stay hydrated (Las Alpujarras, Spain, June 2012). I have many tales to tell: https://ben-bennetts.com/books/tales-from-the-trails/

After the 2020-2021 COVID-19 lockdown period, I slowed down. These days, I don’t need mountain passes or long‑distance trails to feel alive. A quiet lane at dawn, a fox slipping between bins, a rainbow after rain — these are enough. Walking still gives me joy, and as long as my legs and my trekking poles cooperate, I intend to keep roaming. A short distance of around 6 to 7 miles (10 to 12 km) with an occasional stretch to, say, 10 miles (16 km) is enough.  I still get a kick out of the dawn chorus, the wind on my face, the gradual warmth from the rising sun, and the exhilarated feeling one gets when alone with and within nature. Walking is relaxing, invigorating, fun, adventurous, and both physically and mentally stimulating. I hope to continue walking for the foreseeable future.

Fourteen years ago, joire de vivre on Offa’s Dyke
May 2012

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