How a 450km walk through Tuscany soothed my-post separation nerves

In 2020, after an argument with his wife, a 48-year-old Italian man stormed out of his house and went for a walk.

Seven days later, police found him passing through the coastal village of Fano. The unnamed man had walked 450km south of his home in Como, with no provisions or walking gear, having relied on the generosity of strangers for food and shelter.

It’s one of those bizarre stories which sticks in the mind, and one which, looking back, may have subconsciously inspired a similar (but slightly more organised) walk of my own. After announcing to my husband and partner of 20 years I wanted a separation, I told him I was going for a walk to clear my head.

In the three years of emotional turmoil that preceded what I can only describe as a trauma-induced compulsion (marriage conflict compounded by the suffocating restrictions of COVID), I’d found solace in daily walks up and down Bondi’s beachside promenade. It was my meditation. The steady rhythm of my steps was the mantra, which settled my nervous system and gave me the mental space to get clear on what I wanted the rest of my life to look like, and who I wanted in it.

It was also free and allowed (in lockdown), required nothing but adequate shoes, and connected me with nature and my community. I’d walk laps with friends, talking through what was bothering us, sharing advice, wins and struggles.

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It’s amazing how much easier it is to open up to someone while walking beside them, as opposed to the confrontational feeling of sitting opposite. I dubbed these pseudo-therapy sessions “walkie talkies”, and it’s now a social ritual I’ll continue to do as long as my legs allow.

Unlike my usual laps of Bondi’s promenade, the walk I decided to take in the wake of my separation would be somewhat longer. About 450km. Through Tuscany. Alone.

I thought if I managed to complete the three-week Via Francigena pilgrimage, which would end at the steps of the Vatican, the itch I’d been hoping to scratch and the answers I was hoping for would be resolved, and the only path I’d want to walk on any future holiday would be between my hotel room and a pool. So I was shocked at the number of fellow pilgrims I met between Tuscan villages who had completed multiple pilgrimages and intended to continue doing so.

While grief, divorce, illness or the need to ponder various existential questions were often why they decided to undertake a camino in the first place, most fell in love with solo walking for the peace it offered and the chance to shed their identity for a while.

I write this after returning from my second pilgrimage, the Camino de Invierno, a 266km route from Ponferrada to Santiago de Compostela. And as a millennial whose adult life has been meticulously recorded within a 9 x 6 grid and made available for public consumption (and judgment), I discovered a profound calm that came with losing my “self” on these epic walks.

I had the space and time to discover who I was without my identity being constantly reflected back in the faces of people I knew, the places I worked and lived, and the habits and routines which made up my modern existence.

It turns out I’m not the only traveller embracing feet as their primary mode of transport. Katherine Droga, who spent a decade on Tourism Australia’s executive leadership team before founding Well Traveller, says the strongest post-pandemic growth in walking travel is among women, solo travellers and people at transition points in their lives.

“The biggest shift is that walking travellers don’t necessarily identify as hikers any more. They are wellness travellers,” she says. “Walking alone isn’t about being lonely — it’s about creating space to think, process, reconnect and return with more clarity.” And unlike the treatment schedule of a spa retreat, the benefits of a walking holiday last long after the flight home.

Contrary to the perception that walking is a retiree’s pastime, 20-somethings are not only embracing it in droves, but also giving it a glow-up.

“Hot girl walks” continue to trend on TikTok, and wellness influencers such as Dominique Elissa attract hundreds of activewear-clad gen Zs to their weekly walk clubs.

Di Westaway could be considered the OG of the walk club, having launched Coastrek in 2009 with 40 members. More than 98,000 trekkers, mostly over 40, have since taken part, though she’s noticing more and more young women signing up. “Deep down we know that walking is medicine,” she says. “We feel it deeply, and it reminds us we don’t need another pill or supplement. We need friends, fun, fitness and fresh air.”

Her prescription requires no plane ticket, either.

“The amazing thing is that within five minutes of leaving your front door, your mood starts to lift, and the world is a happier place.”

I used to abide by the adage that wherever you go, there you are. But walk in solitude long enough and the ego wears away like boot leather, revealing parts of yourself long buried beneath the layers of deadlines, notifications and other people’s perceptions.

It sounds confronting, and at times it is. But if my solo walks are anything to go by, after a few days the aloneness falls away, replaced by the sense you’re in the company of a friend long forgotten.

utracks.com; spain.info