Rockingham Is All That -and the Ramble Too
Last week, my brother came to visit.
Not for fun. Not for vacation.
He came because our mother had fallen, and I was overwhelmed trying to care for her.
After a couple of days of heavy work - rearranging the house to make space for a wheelchair, assembling a portable potty, lifting, feeding, wondering how much worse is this going to get? Suddenly we had about an hour for a reset.
“Let’s go for a ramble,” I said.
At first, he looked at me and went, “What?”
“A ramble,” I said. “It’s a walk in the woods, not really a hike. A hike feels like an adventure, something you have to prepare for. A ramble just a walk on the trail … no seeking, no expectation.”
He totally got it.
We went to Farris Memorial Park in Mayodan. We didn’t track mileage or steps. We just kinda walked along, letting the dog lead the way. We looked at trees, vented, laughed. We paused at the creek.
And it helped crystalize an idea for me: a ramble centers connection over achievement. It’s had me thinking ever since about the language we use around trails, and how those words either invite people in or maybe quietly shut them out. Maybe a “hike” is intimating. Maybe a walk is more like it for some of us.
Here in Rockingham County, the truth is that we don’t have sweeping ridgelines or multi-day backcountry routes. Our longest trail is about four miles; and while it’s widely recognized as a super fun moutain bike trail, it’s a unicorn here. Most of our trails are two or less. And while we’ve got more multi-use mileage coming in the next few years, we’re probably never going to be a big-name hiking destination. And that’s okay.
Yes, folks here say “hiking.” It’s what we’ve been taught to call it when we walk on trails. But when I look at what’s actually happening on most of our trails - short, quiet, close to home - it looks a whole lot more like rambling.
Hiking, for a lot of people, implies distance. Difficulty. Gear. A challenge. Something you train for. Something you post about. Hiking carries a kind of expectation of achievement.
But rambling?
Rambling is different. Rambling says:
Come as you are.
Come for twenty minutes between shifts.
Come in jeans.
Come with your kid, your grief, or your aging knees.
Come because you need air and quiet and a place where no one’s keeping score.
Rambling doesn’t require apps or gear or goals. It doesn’t push anyone to summit anything.
And what if we added this framing to our trail marketing, programming, and stories? What if our signs said “Welcome to your next ramble”? What if we mapped Gentle Walks and Shady Strolls with intention in our trail guides? What if we made space for ease - not just adventure Because ease, the kind that comes from walking through trees at your own pace, isn’t small. For caregivers. For elders. For people healing from something hard or just a day of the office.
Sometimes ease is everything.
Reading List
Here’s a short reading list that adds to the spirit of the ramble:
Wanderlust: A History of Walking by Rebecca Solnit
The Old Ways: A Journey on Foot by Robert Macfarlane
A Philosophy of Walking by Frédéric Gros
Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail by Cheryl Strayed
Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard
On Trails: An Exploration by Robert Moor
Walking with Trees by Glennie Kindred
Nature Fix: Why Nature Makes Us Happier, Healthier, and More Creative by Florence Williams
Some of these books dive into hiking and long-distance trekking, while others explore walking as a slower, more reflective act. They all, in their own way, touch on what it means to move through the land with care, attention, and curiosity, which is what rambling is all about.
