In the first paragraph of his iconic volume “The Complete Walker”, Colin Fletcher described walking as “…a quite delectable madness, very good for sanity”. I am in complete agreement. Also in this first chapter I was introduced to the “long grassy ridge”, ten minutes drive from where Fletcher then lived, which shows up in various of Fletcher's writings, unidentified by him, but which I have always liked to believed 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.”