I'd Rather Be Walking

 By Terry Morse

I'm as time-pressed as anyone in America, so I ride my bike to work whenever possible because it saves me 30 minutes commuting time each day (I don't own a car). Yet I find myself looking forward to those foul-weather days when I feel compelled to leave my bike at home and use my feet.

Walking, I feel the wind gently caressing my face, smell clean air off the ocean more bracing than fresh-ground coffee, and hear the distant thunder of waves crashing against the North Jetty.

On foot, I am free to note (and, if I choose, to investigate) the call of an unfamiliar bird, a flicker of movement in a bush, the tracks of beetle, mouse, or sparrow in the dirt. I have the leisure to appreciate the fruiting of moss on a concrete wall, the tangerine patina of a rust fungus coating the bark of a Wax-myrtle, or the complex interweaving of ripples diffracting around pilings in the bay. I barely notice these things riding my bike; from a car, they would not exist.

Even when riding, I always walk my bike across Yaquina Bay Bridge, and not just for safety. Things look different from up there. Watch ospreys and vultures coast leisurely above you in summer, or a peregrine falcon rocket past in winter. See migrating flocks of ducks circle repeatedly west of the bridge before flying east to land on the bay. Are they working up the courage to cross the span, or just allowing stragglers to catch up before changing course? Is the bridge a psychological barrier to them? Male buffleheads are attractive when viewed from ground level while swimming on the bay. From above, the way a goshawk sees them, they look strikingly different, and you understand immediately why birds that don't have some compelling reason to look fancy (e.g., to attract a mate or defend a territory), don't. I'm not going to tell you what they look like; you've got to get out of your car and see for yourself.

Lastly, few winter sports can match the excitement of trekking across Yaquina Bay Bridge into a 60 mph headwind on a stormy day. Cross-country skiing, step aside!

So take back your life. Skip a few nature shows on television and make time to get out and experience the real thing on foot. You will be the richer for it.

© 1992 Terry Lee Morse

Revised: 21 May 2004