Slow travel sense - a smell of Ft. Worth, TX
As a quick refresher, the three principles of slow travel can be practiced individually, two at a time, or all three at a time, and your slow travel adventure is unique to you. Make it your own.
Micro-travel and mindfulness
Journey as the destination
Live somewhere else
Slow travel encourages you to experience the details of a locality, focus your attention and be present, and refresh yourself. Slow travel nourishes rather than depletes. When you complete a slow travel adventure, your body may be tired, but you feel revitalized instead of exhausted.
Especially for micro-travel and mindfulness, slow travel invites you to engage your senses and notice what you notice.
Trinity River Trail in Fort Worth, TX. The sign says MISTING STATION, which I thought was a great amenity for a place that is probably dangerously hot at times. I didn't see the misting station, but there was a spray pad nearby.
As I’ve been out on my book tour, I’ve had some fascinating slow travel experiences. Slow travel cuts against the grain of travel as achievement and the quest for Instagrammable superlatives. Sometimes that means finding yourself in a place where you could visit “the destinations” and don’t for one reason or another. Try being in a place you’ve never been before and approach it as you would if you were home. I find this extraordinarily challenging.
Sometimes what is unique about a place is not necessarily pleasant. It’s important to resist judging the “pleasantness” as good or bad. There’s more immediacy and authenticity in simply noticing even though you may prefer some kinds of experiences over others. I also find that when there’s dissonance in an experience - maybe it’s mostly pleasant but there’s something you’d rather were different - we’re more strongly affected, the experience becomes more memorable.
While I was in Fort Worth, I had an experience that wasn’t necessarily dissonant to me, but as I considered sharing what I noticed, I thought it might be helpful to provide this context. Places, like people, are a jumble of amazing qualities and faults or flaws. Those things we want to hide, they’re what’s intriguing.
For the first time, I used bike share as a commute option (I used bike share in Minneapolis in 2011 during the Scenic Byways conference, and it was an experiment with new technology and a way to explore some of the city with fellow conference participants). I realized my hesitation stemmed from being unfamiliar with how bike share worked, which kept me from trying it. Times when I could have used bike share (like the many times have I been in Portland, OR, without a bike and would have happily pedaled), I’ve compensated by taking transit or walking. For where I wanted to go in Fort Worth, transit took more than an hour, and I didn’t feel I had the time to walk five miles one way. Biking would take only 22 minutes.
The morning was breezy but lovely. It’s difficult to hear what I’m saying in the video below, but what I wrote above covers it and then some.
In 1998 and 1999 when I lived in Fort Worth, my friend Trish and I walked the path along the Trinity River twice a day - once early in the morning and once in the evening. Texas is hot, and the grass along the concrete path was dead most of the year. We lived in different units in the same apartment complex that welcomed dogs. One side of the complex adjoined the river, and there was a gate in the apartment complex fence that allowed residents access to the trail.
I want to spare you the gory details, but thank goodness there was a feeder path between the complex and the trail so a person could get to the trail without stepping in poop. I usually held my breath between the fence and river trail. A pooper scooper station popped up in this area to help with the unsanitary conditions, but I don’t recall much use of it.
So when the smell of sun-baked grass greeted me during my morning pedal, I smelled not just grass.
When I docked the bike, I felt I was being unkind. That dog poop smell was probably just my memory.
After my breakfast rendezvous, I returned to the bike share docking station. Instead of following the same route through the shopping area, I walked through the grass to the trail.
That dog poop smell wasn’t just memory.
I want to reiterate that what I noticed about this smell along the river path is a distinct Fort Worth smell. It’s not the ONLY Fort Worth smell (and Fort Worth is not the only place that has it). By The Woodshed, a restaurant and bar not far from my destination bike share docking station, the smell of woodsmoke and cooking meat was distinct.
Go forth and slow travel!
And please share in the comments below. I’d love to hear your stories about the sense of place through smell.
