For me, walking in the native Australian bush has been a lifelong passion. I love bushwalking. I love talking about bushwalking. I just prefer not to talk while I am bushwalking.

“Why?” you ask.

I consider that there are five major benefits of not speaking in the bush, which all relate to mental and physical health, equilibrium and sensory experience. I am not a misanthrope (at least, not all the time)! I enjoy what the Irish call “craic”. However, I prefer experiencing the bush without the intrusion of human voices.

Leading along Berowra CreekMHM Photography

52 | BWA December 2017

Shimmering stream, Berowra ValleyAndrew W Morse

You hear more

The first and most obvious benefit of not talking while bushwalking is that you hear more.

While walking on a high point of the Maclehose Trail in the New Territories of Hong Kong, a large group was chatting normally until one person shouted, “Stop. Listen!” We all halted and were immediately alert to any unusual or alarming noises. We were perplexed at the lack of sound, even from the jet-skis, racing around on the waters of Tai Long Wan, far below, until one walker said “But I can’t hear anythi ...”. Only then, did we all realise the intent.

If we do not speak while walking, we allow ourselves to concentrate on the natural ambience. We hear insects, birds and even the rustling of leaves disturbed by a breeze. Who would have thought that you could actually hear the wind?!

Even without speech, we cannot be silent. The unavoidable scrunch of boots on the ground; the swish of branches pushed aside; the rub of synthetic fabrics; the scratch of Velcro; the abrasive ripping of zippers and food packets; and the popping or unscrewing of drink bottle caps; all create unnatural noise.

Whenever my group stops for a short interlude, the lack of these sounds opens the opportunity to hear far more than when we are walking. A break allows us all to enjoy the silence in our own ways. Some favour Vipassana meditation, some look for birds

in high branches, some watch the clouds scudding across the sky and others simply close their eyes and listen.

Subtle birdsong becomes audible. Nearby insects and obscured cascades invade our consciousness. The longer we stand, still and mute, the more natural sounds become clear. By not generating noise apart from footfalls, we also are likely to see more.

You see more

Pausing by the side of Berowra Creek, a dozen walkers sat silently. As we appreciated the sunshine, fresh air, tinkling waters and buzzing insects, a one metre-long Eastern Water Dragon appeared on the opposite bank. While these creatures are often wary of people, this particular lizard crossed the creek by rapidly running (on its two back legs) over large boulders. No one moved or spoke.

Despite our brightly coloured clothes, the reptile remained unconcerned and sat watching us almost within arms length of me, even as some sidled around to take photos. I have extreme doubts that we would have enjoyed such a close visit if we had been less sensitive and more vocal.

Eastern water dragonAndrew W Morse

BWA December 2017 | 53

You sense more

When one sense is suppressed, the other senses are enhanced. Bushwalking on rough tracks requires constant concentration as to where you place your feet. Near unfenced cliff edges, it’s not melodramatic to say that your life can depend on it.

Walking into a remote village in rural China, we climbed for three hours, up rock steps on a 40˚ incline. While the scenery was magnificent, the demand on legs, heart and lungs was extreme. If nothing else, not

speaking conserved oxygen and ensured that we had a more efficient aerobic exercise. Three days later, walking down slippery stone steps and muddy ground in constant rain, was sufficiently dangerous to demand my absolute attention.

If you are walking and talking, your brain has a reduced ability to fully appreciate your surroundings. It is one thing to enjoy the sight of magnificent vistas, majestic trees, vibrant wildflowers, rushing streams and birds flitting around you. It is another to start to feel a part of the environment.

Native wildflowers in profusionMHM Photography

Wallaby in the Ku-Ring-gai Wildflower GardenMHM Photography

Silence increases the chance of spotting birdsMHM Photography

54 | BWA December 2017

Extensive shell middens beside the Cowan Creek (and many sites around the coast) can stimulate imaginations of the lives of the first Australians. For millennia they sat in these precise spots; fishing, eating and sharing the land. Our tactile sense can reinforce this connection with the past by a direct bond with century-old trees and ancient rocks, and with the continuity of life reflected in the newest fern growth. The feel of rough rocks on the palms is like engaging with the vast history of our planet.

You connect more

Rather than just walking through the bush, we can become more closely aligned with it, and even an integral part of it, if we occasionally stop and smell the acacias! Not all Australian native plants are fragrant, but to stop, examine and smell them is absorbing.

Bushwalking without vocalising, allows us to focus our senses on our surroundings. In a group, over hours of silence, a common bond develops and our connection with the environment around us strengthens.

You appreciate more

There are many ways of sharing, independent of speech. One of the more rewarding aspects of silent walking is a shared appreciation. When we emerge from the bush and finally break the silence, the most common comments are of gratitude. Comparisons are made with “talking” walking groups and while we all enjoy chatting sometimes, the enlightenment of walking in silence is serene.

Berowra CreekMHM Photography

Delicate wildflowerMHM Photography