Of course, in doing so he also cursed an entire generation of teens to be dragged along on family retreats… so swings and roundabouts, really. After all, who wouldn’t want to commune with nature, clear the lungs and get a good old look at the world around them? My dear old granddaddy even fought for these public paths, trespassing so cheerfully and so often as to shame the landowning cranks into capitulation.
Now don’t get it twisted: I do understand the impulse. I’ll be the first to admit that that when it comes to real life rambling (that’s the hiking, not the verbal diarrhoea) strolling along an ankle-shattering stone path isn’t exactly for me.
