Issue # 62 Slow Adventure - the radical act of going slow
What even is a slow adventure anyway?
We have been calling ourselves ‘Slow Adventurers’ for a while now. We’re even hosting a guided slow adventure hike in August. But what does that even mean? Why does everything need the word slow in front of it these days? And how can slowing down be a radical act of resistance? In this issue we’ll look at all these things and share our own experiences of how we learned to take it slow in the great outdoors.
Life can feel kind of chaotic sometimes, right? A frantic blur of working, scrolling, hustling, squeezing in some time to get outside if we’re lucky. Society demands that the default is fast, we are told to strive for bigger and better. Each new tech innovation promises greater speed and efficiency - but for what? Where are we going in such a rush and why? What are we missing out on in our hurry as life flashes by in a blur?
The world of outdoor adventure is the same. The drive to go faster, higher, further, lighter is omnipresent. Accolades abound for record smashers and title chasers. The person who goes the furthest, fastest. In this world Nature is there to be conquered, to pit yourself against for personal glory. Mountains, oceans, trails all made a commodity; an extension of our society where consumption is king.
We learned the benefits of taking it slow a long time ago - life in the woods taught us to be patient and to observe, to pay attention to the details and to notice changes happening at a snail’s pace or even slower. Working outdoors taught us the value of staying in one place for extended lengths of time and letting Nature come to us, of blending into the landscape, becoming part of Nature instead of simply travelling through it.
I remember when we did our first long distance hike in Sweden on the Fjällräven Classic, we had up to six days to hike 110km across a beautifully wild and remote landscape. It took us five days, each one challenging and meaningful in different ways.
At the finish line, we were surprised to discover that some people had finished the hike in just two days, running the whole way. It’s an impressive physical feat, but I couldn’t help feeling bewildered and sad that they had rushed through such an incredible landscape. What was the point in coming to the wilderness, if only to get through it as quickly as possible?
What about stopping to cook lunch by waterfalls, watching reindeer and moose trace the shapes of hills and valleys, drying off wet socks in the sun, dipping sore feet in icy cold streams, camping each night under the never setting arctic summer sun and making new friends on the trail? These were the moments that made the hike magical - we may have been slow, but our connection to the landscape ran deep as we let its wildness permeate every fibre of our being.
Here in the mountains, woods and valleys of the Lake District, our approach to spending time outdoors is unchanged. We are unapologetically slow (and not just because we are hiking with a seven year old most of the time). On our summit hikes, we take frequent detours to explore steep gullies, or to find the perfect spot to eat lunch, or to search out tiny plants and creatures that we know will be hiding in nooks and crannies. If there is a stream or waterfall, you will have to wait for us whilst we dip our toes or submerge our whole bodies. You may have to be patient while we study details of plants or clamber down banks to find deep pools.
By learning to be attentive, slowing down, curating curiosity and simply taking time to soak it all in, even small adventures can become more meaningful. Perhaps even life-changing.
Slow adventures can be an antidote to the fast pace of daily living, but they can also be the starting point from which to introduce slowness into other areas of life too. Lessons from the trail or from the woods can make us think about the things that are important to us at home or at work - what are we letting pass us by in the rush to keep up with the pressure to make money, or work hard or impress others?
In a way, slow adventuring is a radical act of resistance - it takes a stand against normality and says “enough!” to the fast paced culture that dominates our lives. It allows us to be present in the moment, to take back control of our minds from the relentless distractions of social media, to give our full attention to feeling free and joyful.
We think a good hike should not be measured in miles, or minutes but in the experiences had along the way - how about you?
Well, that’s all for this week! We’d love to hear your thoughts on going slow in the outdoors, and in other areas of life - drop us a comment below!
With warm wishes for your slow adventures ahead,
Andrew, Emma and Benji
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LOVE it! In this world, slowness is indeed radical. And as you've described, it is also deeply affecting! ✨
Loved this, thank you!