Updated April 17, 2025 at 9:50 p.m.*
HAMBURG — I have a pen pal friend who lives halfway around the world, in southern climes by a beautiful lake. He lives in a house with a large attic, where there is a chair, a table and books stacked in piles. I know this because my pen pal has sent me photos.
Some of the pictures are of animals. We tell each other about the animals we’ve encountered: the salamander in the mountains, beavers, seals on the sandbank, and sea eagles. And sometimes, I imagine what it would be like if we met. Why not follow that urge? Why not walk to the lake?
I decided to set out, certain that if I walked, I would eventually arrive. So I stepped out the door and ventured into the unknown. I hoped the path would somehow lead me. Why with a tent and sleeping bag, why in cold April? Why across endless country roads and deserted villages? Why with bloody blisters and a burning heart?
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“Why, why?” Surjo Soekadar laughs. “Most of the time, we’re outside simply because we need to get somewhere.” The physician sits in his windowless office at the Charité medical faculty in Berlin, his pale face appearing on the screen. “I was just visiting colleagues in the Swedish City of Lund. It was rainy and foggy. I actually wanted to take a break in the botanical garden.”
Why in the botanical garden?
“Under trees, I can mentally engage with everything — the unfamiliar city, my Swedish colleagues, the bad weather.”
Under trees?
“In nature, we are not distracted. Finally, there is peace. Nature is a stress-free place because we know we won’t be ambushed there or forced to solve problems; instead, our bodies and minds can come to rest.”
Why is that?
“We experience nature in a tangible way, and at the same time, we associate it with something familiar, perhaps from childhood — the scent of pine trees, the babbling of a brook. These memories can be reactivated.”
A view of the sky
“We’re trapped in conditioned projections that influence how we perceive things — gardening, a picnic, a walk with the dog. This way of being outside is a kind of balance for many. We relax because we have trained ourselves to do so. It feels good, and we believe that it does.”
But what exactly does nature do to us?
“We know that people relax in the context of nature experiences: blood pressure and cortisol levels decrease, sleep improves. This could be related to physical activity, like swimming in a lake or cycling, or to the sense of achievement we get from outdoor experiences — we call it self-efficacy. These influences of nature have been studied extensively, and all studies reach the same conclusion: nature is relaxing. But what exactly benefits us, we don’t know.”
Is the effect inexplicable?
“Nature allows for a holistic experience but only in the right state of mind. If you go to a park when you’re stressed, it won’t have the same effect. You first have to connect with the present moment.”
How does that happen?
“We can find out what is good for us — like cycling to work. If you enjoy it, you’ll want to do it every day. Winter swimmers sometimes imagine cold water as salvation. We can actively influence our experience. It is our decision what we find meaningful and what brings us peace. Physical and mental challenges are as inseparable as Siamese twins. One does not exist without the other.”
Do you have an example?
“Years ago, I was hiking in the Corcovado rainforest in Costa Rica. Our group misjudged the pace, and it got dark. We had to deal with the possibility of not reaching camp. When we finally did, I was completely exhausted. Now, when things get difficult, I stay calm and focused — and keep going. Being outside magnifies learning. In nature, you learn for life.”
How nature changes the brain
When I walk, everything changes. Every step shifts something. After a few days of hiking, I realize I was happy just to be walking. Walking allowed me to follow my daydreams, which accompanied me like robins for a while before flying away. No one disturbed me. Sometimes, a root, a stumble, would remind me: take the winding path, step into the clearing. Look around, lose sight of the goal, the lake. Keep walking, become nothing.
Psychologist Simone Kühn is also trying to unravel the mystery of being outdoors. She leads the Lise Meitner Group for Environmental Neuroscience at the Max Planck Institute for Human Development in Berlin. At first, she wondered what people could do to actively change their brains for the better. Then, she wanted to know how the brain passively changes based on the environment people expose themselves to: “What happens in the brain when someone walks through a noisy city or a quiet forest?”
Being in nature demonstrably does us good.
Kühn lives with her husband and their three children next to a lighthouse. The garden opens onto the high bank of the Elbe River, a swing dangles from the oak tree, and pines and birches lean to the East. The mossy meadow is gently undulating like the sea. She says: “We often spend time on Pellworm Island — the mudflats and sky give you the feeling of being exposed to the elements. It makes you realize your position in the world: you’re just a small ant in a vast universe.”
To find out whether there is a causal link between experiences in nature and a healthy brain, Kühn’s group sent 63 healthy participants on either a one-hour walk in the Grunewald forest or along a busy street in Berlin. They then examined brain activity. The results showed that the amygdala, a key brain region responding to stress, was less active after the nature walk than before. After a city walk, however, its activity remained the same. “Being in a city doesn’t cause additional stress,” says Kühn, “but being in nature demonstrably does us good.”
British colleagues of Kühn investigated whether the positive effects of greenery are merely due to the absence of harmful influences like air pollution. The result: It’s more than just the lack of negatives that makes a green environment beneficial. Researchers at the Max Planck Institute and the University Medical Center Hamburg-Eppendorf found that bird sounds reduce anxiety and irrational thoughts — we subconsciously associate birdsong with an intact natural environment.
Evolutionary effects?
In 1984, Swedish researcher Roger Ulrich made waves with his famous hospital study. It showed that patients recover faster and need less pain medication if they have a greenery view. The renowned evolutionary biologist Edward O. Wilson claimed that we are genetically predisposed to love all living things.
Our evolutionary home is an open landscape that offers both visibility and protection: grass with trees and water bodies. This landscape resembles the East African savanna, the cradle of Homo sapiens, which is why we supposedly feel comfortable in similar environments.
The closer we are to water, the better our mental health.
Kühn, however, is skeptical: “Our parks look like savannas, indeed. But maybe the savanna feels familiar to us because our parks resemble it. Or maybe we like parks because we feel safe there. We don’t know.” What Kühn does know is: a real experience in nature has the maximum effect on well-being. And: the closer we are to water, the better our mental health. Is this determined by evolution? “It would be plausible, but we can’t prove it,” she says.
Whoever walks knows they were born to walk. In the evening, you think you can’t go any farther, but in the morning, the sun rises, and the only thing to do is to set out again. Walking celebrates the moment. It leads inward, and it leads into silence. It is beautiful to feel, while walking, that there are paths in this world.
As April grew warmer, I let myself fall into the grass. I became calmer, but also more sensitive. I had written to my pen pal that I was on the way, but did not know where the path might lead me. I kept walking — sometimes exhausted, sometimes cheerful — and at some point, I realized that I had begun to feel comfortable. Setting out means taking on a new form.
Leave fears at home
On a rainy day, I meet former business consultant Christine Thürmer. She claims to be the most-traveled woman in the world: 65,000 kilometers on foot, 2,000 nights in a tent, 50 pairs of worn-out shoes. During the German winter, she tours with her Wander Woman show; most of the events are sold out.
Thürmer does what her audience dreams of. On stage, she tells stories from her life as a long-distance hiker.
She first set out in 2004, flat-footed and 22 pounds overweight. She hiked the Pacific Crest Trail, the Continental Divide Trail, and she then already averaged 23 miles a day. “It’s an intoxicating feeling, what the body can do. When you hike, you feel incredibly sexy.”
“Thru-hikers”, as long-distance hikers like Thürmer call themselves, strip off their clothes at the end of a trail and take nude photos, proud of their bodies. “Even though everyone looks like a skeleton,” she says. “Thru-hiking doesn’t make a beautiful body; you don’t build muscle. Most women end up with sagging breasts and cellulite. But everyone is happy. The body is the instrument that fulfills our dreams.”
The 57-year-old lives by two principles.
The first: Be comfortable with being uncomfortable. “The more I lower my expectations, the happier I become,” she says. She achieves this by living in a 21 square foot tent. “A beautiful landscape doesn’t matter to me; even the most stunning scenery is just a backdrop if you expect happiness from it. If you want to be healed by untouched nature, you’re merely consuming, waiting to be passively transformed. That doesn’t work.”
Thürmer sees nature differently: is that spot under the beech tree a good campsite? Where can I find fresh water? Am I sheltered from the wind?
Most beginners choose the Camino de Santiago, Thürmer says, because they don’t have to expose themselves to nature that much. “There’s food at every corner, a hostel, a bathroom. They would never want to find themselves in a situation like I did on the Continental Divide Trail. When we stood on the watershed, I realized there had been no one within 31 miles — maybe a grizzly bear, but certainly no human. In a moment like that, you realize how small and insignificant you are.”
Her second principle: don’t pack your fears with you!
When I set out, I thought I could either follow my urge or escape it. But walking does something else. On my way to the lake, I write to my pen pal. He writes back. The letters go back and forth until I finally tell him how far I intend to go.
It’s not possible, he replies.
Tips from an adventurer
When Simone Kühn honors being like an ant in the universe and Christine Thürmer bows to storms and hardships, I think of Rainer Maria Rilke’s words: “And yet, this humility was nothing but an immeasurable arrogance.”
I continue my search for outdoor happiness in a country where babies breathe in fresh air as naturally as they drink their mother’s milk. I travel to Norway. Friluftsliv (open-air living) is woven into the country’s DNA. At the same time, Norwegians are among the happiest people in the world. Is there a connection?
I have a walking date with one of them: Erling Kagge. Something like the Roald Amundsen of the 20th century, Kagge was the first person to reach all three poles on foot: the North Pole, the South Pole and Mount Everest. He was 32 then. Now, almost twice that age, he has written books about silence, walking and the meaning of adventure. He is a master of being outdoors, and now he wants to see the soles of my shoes. He smiles: “Just tell me if it gets too slippery for you.”
He looks up. “When you look at the moon or the stars, it puts your life into perspective. You see who you are, how vast everything is, and how small you are. But it also shows you that you are part of all this immense beauty.”
Once again: humility. The sky over Oslo is indeed beautiful. The city flows like silk from the mountains down to the fjord, opening up the view. In Oslo, you can see where you live and that you are alive. We hike toward the city forest. Did he ski here as a child? “My earliest memory is of a hospital. I had surgery and spent three days alone. The boy in the bed next to me cried the whole time. But I also remember endlessly long ski days.”
Without suffering, you don’t truly experience much.
The December sun floods the snow-covered meadow we walk across. “It’s wonderful to share something beautiful,” says Kagge. “But alone, you experience it more intensely. Norwegian culture is similar to German culture — we believe you have to endure a little suffering to have a good life. I like that mindset. Thinking life should be painless is naive.”
Reading the German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer reminded him that without suffering, you don’t truly experience much — because you don’t think about it. “If you’ve been sick and then get well, you appreciate it. But if you always stay at the same level, life remains average. We need both: joy and pain.”
Kagge walks lightly and talks about his father, whom he just visited at the hospital. “He always wanted only the beautiful things. Now he’s 91, and I asked him if he regrets anything. No, he said, he has no regrets. He had a good life, yes, but he missed out on having a better one. He wasn’t willing to make his life harder voluntarily.”
Why should someone do that? “Our instinct leads us to choose the easiest path. I sometimes sleep in, too; you’re allowed to be lazy. But at the same time, you should actively make your life harder. Not because you’re a masochist, but because it makes life better.”
Travel light
Why does suffering make life better?
“It feels good to warm up after being cold. It feels good to eat when you’re hungry. To rest when you’re tired. These experiences are the source of gratitude.” That makes sense.
“I have chosen to push my body to the extremes in the wild. I feel the wind, I hear the river, I freeze, I sweat, I exhaust myself — and all of it becomes an intellectual experience. That doesn’t mean I think a lot; I am simply present. Thinking about the past and future is like making noise. When I come home, I have answers to my questions, even to questions I hadn’t even asked myself.”
What are the answers?
“First: keep your pleasures simple. Second: the best things in life are often free. Third: when you go out, you don’t know what will happen. Fourth: be grateful when the sun warms your face.”
What should you take with you when you go outside?
“Bring a jacket. And the right shoes. Plan ahead, travel light and leave your fears behind. Many people worry about things that will never happen and wish for things they will never have. That’s why they feel unhappy.”
At the fork in the road, where I can’t go any further, I hesitate. Which flower to hang my desire on, which tree to lean against? I decide to go to another lake. There are many reasons to walk: walking tames. Walking makes you alert. Walking warms you. The journey is simply the wonder that life is not over yet.
*Originally published April 11, 2025, this article was updated April 17, 2025 with enriched media