Slow Travel

Part 4 – The Environment

An empty beach at low tide. The peace of walking next to the ocean, vast and mesmerising. Waves crash against the shore, their spray mixing with the first rays of the morning sun, revealing tiny rainbows dancing briefly overhead before dissolving without a trace. There’s a silence in the rhythmic roar of the waves, where one can find comfort and solitude. Not even the lonely cry of a gull, coasting freely, wings skimming the glassy surface beyond the shallows, can drown out the frothing thunder that seems to cocoon itself around us, sheltering our minds from intrusive thoughts. The ocean is like a mother, powerful and wise, providing what is necessary for life to endure. She gives reason for pause, to stare awestruck and vulnerable at her might and beauty. The damp sand is cold underfoot, awaiting the warm kiss of the morning sun. A single line of footprints follows close behind, growing longer with each step, leaving a record of this new day’s first visitor. One after another, impressions are left as feet peel up and swing forward, softly compressing a sandy, golden blanket undisturbed beyond the horizon. The return journey along the shoreline sees the water reaching further up the beach with each pulsing wave. The incoming tide slowly erases evidence of our presence, ensuring a fresh canvas when the water is next low. There is a connection here with the natural world and with the self, for we are nature, and nature is us. 

“Whatungarongaro te tangata, toitū te whenua – As man disappears from sight, the land remains.”

Photo Credit: Geoff Marks

A crowded beach at low tide. The chaotic rush to walk next to the ocean, vast and mesmerising. Waves crash against the shore, their spray mixing with the first rays of the morning sun, revealing tiny rainbows dancing briefly overhead, viewed only through numerous lenses, competing to capture the moment before they dissolve without a trace. The silence in the rhythmic roar of the waves, where one can normally find comfort and solitude, is interrupted by the frantic shouts of those racing to take as many shots as possible before hurrying to the next destination. Not even the lonely cry of a gull, coasting freely, wings skimming the glassy surface beyond the shallows, can drown out the thunderous sounds of vehicles coming and going at speed, leaving our minds susceptible to intrusive thoughts. The ocean is like a mother, powerful and wise, providing what is necessary for life to endure. She gives reason for pause, to stare awestruck and vulnerable at her might and beauty. There’s no consideration of this, though. The wants and desires of hurried travellers don’t allow for such reflection and gratitude. The damp, cold sand underfoot, awaiting the warm kiss of the morning sun, goes unnoticed thanks to the soles of shoes, separating skin from what is real. A parade of footprints, scattering maniacally, expands in a short time, leaving a record of the barrage of visitors hastily snapping photos at the dawn of this new day. One after another, impressions are left as feet peel up and lunge forward, pounding a sandy, golden blanket, now disturbed and broken as far as the horizon. The return journey along the shoreline sees the water reaching further up the beach with each pulsing wave. The incoming tide, stretching in vain to erase evidence of our presence, fails to ensure a fresh canvas when the water is next low. The connection here with the natural world is missed, as it is with the self, for we forget we are nature, and nature is us. 

Photo Credit: Geoff Marks

“We have forgotten how to be good guests and walk lightly on the earth as other guests do.” ~ Barbara Ward

Leaving a trace is unavoidable. We could try floating and holding our breath, but even then, we would affect something. Every living thing leaves its mark. Nature impacts nature. The problem lies in large scale, constant impact, making recovery difficult or even impossible. 

We’ve all seen videos of predators hunting prey in the wild. As sad as it is to watch a gazelle be taken by a pride of lions, we accept it. Why? Because that’s nature. That’s part of life. But how would we react if those same lions, rather than devouring every bit of their spoil before moving on contentedly to rest, raced around in a frenzy, slaughtering as many gazelles as possible, eating only a tiny bit before running on to kill again? We’d have an issue with that, wouldn’t we? In very little time, there would be no gazelles left. So much waste and senseless killing, consuming out of want rather than need.

Lions kill. That’s what they do. Still, gazelles survive. They continue to roam and reproduce, playing their role in maintaining the circle of life. Some will fall prey to lions, but many more will live on. This is sustainable, leaving an impact at a rate that allows the rest of nature to recover and thrive.

“You cannot get through a single day without having an impact on the world around you. What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.” ~ Dr. Jane Goodall

The first journey along the beach is an example of having an impact in a sustainable way. Leaving evidence of presence while connecting with nature in a way that allows for recovery. 

The second journey to the beach was very different. Competing with the masses to quickly visit a beautiful place, ignoring connection, disturbing peace, and being disrespectful. Ensuring we get what we want at all costs, regardless of our impact. 

Day after day, similar scenes play out in tourist destinations across the globe. People in a rush, looking out only for themselves and ignoring the potential consequences of their actions. We all deserve a break from our hectic lives, and travelling is hard to top. Leading such busy lives, maintaining our wellbeing and enjoying ourselves are essential. However, looking after and enjoying ourselves responsibly is also essential. Balance is needed, finding a way to fulfil our needs and desires in harmony with our planet, not at the expense of it.

Photo Credit: Geoff Marks

“We are living on this planet as if we had another one to go to.” ~ Terri Swearingen

The natural world cannot keep up with our unsustainable lifestyle. Travelling is a wonderful experience. It’s a pleasure, not a right. Flying to New Zealand is necessary unless you live here. You can’t be expected to swim, of course. Avoiding short stays at accommodations that force more frequent washing of linen and use of cleaning products is another. While driving a vehicle powered by fossil fuels can have a negative impact, driving less often and for shorter distances is yet another great way to lower that impact. The options to tread lightly are endless if we keep our minds open and use a little imagination. 

For roughly five months each year, NZ welcomes millions of visitors. This country is beautiful, so wanting to see it is more than understandable. Does every little bit really need to be seen in a tiny window, though?

Hosting a party can be really fun. There may be a big clean-up afterwards, but it’s worth the good time. Imagine having a party every night for five months straight. You wouldn’t be able to keep up with the cleaning, and your house would be in quite a state. Why? Because it’s unsustainable.

Photo Credit: Geoff Marks

Please come and enjoy yourselves. Aotearoa is one of the most stunning places on Earth. Visit, travel, enjoy! But please consider Slow Travel when you’re planning your trip. Choose what you want to see in your short time here. Choose quality over quantity for your benefit, as well as that of the local economy and our planet. Choose slow, sustainable travel and help Mother Nature keep up with the cleaning between parties. And while you’re making these choices, choose Glacier Country. You’ll be glad you did!

Hopefully, you enjoyed this series on Slow Travel. This concept can be applied anywhere your travels may take you. We hope to see you in Glacier Country very soon. 

Until then, take it slow.

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Mike Bilodeau is a content writer for eco and sustainable tourism operators. He’s an advocate for Slow Travel and is slowly making his way around Europe with his furry companion, Koru.