A unique hike featuring compassion, community and consciousness

I faced the dark trees, and my eyes were closed. A hand, unfamiliar, warm and firm, placed gently on my shoulder from behind, and another on their shoulder, so on, so forth. We breathed together and tried to really listen.

Birds were chirping close by. They must be resting among the trees, hiding within the vast canopies. There were other hikers too. They were chatting and laughing, and their steps shuffled the fallen leaves. Cars were roaming from afar. They reminded us that we were still close to the cityscape, which we were trying to escape from, at least for that Sunday afternoon. 

If our memory of the hike was frozen into a specific moment, that brief period of us huddled into one single unit was the instant that defined the beauty of this nature walk organised by kindredpacket. 

Box Hill - two hundred years later 

Chasing the tail-end of the British summer, we were blessed with calming weather that Sunday. Our train brought us to Box Hill without delay, and the founder of kindredpacket, David Kam, was already waiting for us in his heavy-duty hiking gear and comforting smile. 

I went there with the aim to pump up my step counts and to check out what Box Hill looked like as it was mentioned in Jane Austen’s novel, Emma. Two hundred years later, I was now where the legendary novelist once hung out, it felt pretty cool and you can watch my video here.  

But my attention to filming for my Youtube channel was quickly switched to my fellow hikers. This was no ordinary hiking group. It was a nature walk organised by David, a yoga teacher, with a group of people from all walks of life, who shared, in one way or another, a connection with East and South East Asia (ESEA).

There was something special about this group - a kind of mutual understanding, a common ground, a shared experience growing up between the eastern and western cultures that bonded us during this relaxing walk. 

Let’s walk 

With a photographer, first aiders, local guides, and forest bathers trekking along, the hike was well organised. New friends were mingling, talking about our origins and what we do, as more people arrived to join the crew. 

At the bottom of the hill, we shared our names and our favourite Asian snacks in a circle. Amen to the Wang Wang rice crackers, hurrah to the almond-and-chocolate-covered Pocky. Our conversations kicked off with warmth. It was unusual because most of us met each other for the first time, but it was beautiful, like an orchestra coming together.  

Our conversations got deep quite quickly. When they knew I was a novelist, they asked me how did my parents react because they knew Asian parents could faint at this idea of a ‘creative career’ (thankfully, my parents were chilled). Others talked about finding their true selves after being the poster good child for so many years. The struggles were real and quite often they had nothing to do with our Asian parents, and that’s something maybe we could only understand between ourselves. 

Forest bathing

We walked and walked. The uphill was steeper than I thought, but we were awarded with homemade Cocktail buns and Pineapple buns, classic Hong Kong snacks, from Polly’s Bakehouse over a large plain of greenery. Light greens like peas, dark greens like pine, and every shade in between. The blue sky sipped through the egg-white clouds.

All of a sudden, we reached a shadowy spot in the forest. Short but wide trees took over the sky, their roots weaved in up and down the soil. Dark reds and browns, it was like we opened a portal to a world for witches and wizards.

The land felt whimsical. We gathered, slowed down, listened and breathed. David guided us to return to the present moment, Jonathan invited us to massage our sinuses, and Liliana asked us to smell something from the forest — moss, leaves, soil. That was forest bathing — a simple exercise to connect our city selves back to nature. 

I went up to a tree, a big, broad tree with its trunk doubled the size of me, and stuck my nose on the crimson branch. An odd choice, a bold move, perhaps, but I yearned to get closer, so I dived in and cuddled this old tree. 

It was calming, and I could feel my anxious self slowing down. Then I noticed no one was speaking. Everyone was trying to make sense of this new experience. Some with their senses, others with their thinking heads. The silence invited peacefulness. In a forest where the trees stood unmoved for centuries, I felt alive, humbled and grounded. 

“Though we began the journey as strangers, we soon bonded over stories of struggle and triumph. We need more opportunities like this to connect with not just others from a similar heritage but ourselves.” - Kevin

What was wellness? 

David gave us a piece of cardstock each and invited us to note down the moment. I am a novelist, so writing comes natural to me, but I chose to draw instead — using a different mode of expression, maybe a different part of the brain. I hoped to forge new relationships with art and nature. 

I sat by the same stodgy tree and looked at the roots. Thick, moist and steady, spiders built their homes in between. Right there was the ecological system, and the world was connected and supported by it. I drew wiggling lines on my paper, outlined some kind of shape of the tree truck and vibrant roots, and tried not to get too caught up by the form. 

Others were climbing trees, writing poems and using their own ways to enjoy the new experience. We shared what we received from mother nature, and it was a secret reserved among us. I was grateful for such an open-minded group. Friendships were sprouting. 

In that moment, I had nowhere else to be, nowhere else to go. I was right there. 

Only later did I think of the word ‘wellness’. I guess this was it. Wellness is the moment of conscious connectedness: with nature, with each other, and with ourselves. 

I closed my eyes and chanted my safety mantra: 

May I be safe. May I be happy. May I be healthy.

The last hurdle 

Before our walk ended in a pub, we had to cross a beautiful stream by hopping through a line of steps. The hexagonal stones weren’t big, and the surface seemed slippery. 

There was only one stone path. So we waited at one end for the group on the other side to cross first. There was impatience in me, like every other Londoner who never stopped their feet. 

Maybe that’s why the stream was there. Maybe the intimidating water and the slow traffic were our homework - for us to apply the mindfulness we cultivated back in the dark forest. Be patient, and live with courage, compassion and gratitude. 

Needless to say, as I was massaging my sore legs the next day, there was a smile on my face as I couldn’t wait for the next kindredpacket nature walk. 

Join kindredpacket’s next nature walk on November 13.

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