I Stood Barefoot in a Midwinter Forest — and Discovered the Power of Skin-to-Nature Contact

The forest is dripping with water. The creaking of tree trunks and the whisper of wind through the spruces are the only sounds in the heart of the midwinter wilderness, surrounded by nothing but emptiness. Further down the slope, the slush and ice gleam white against the dark conifer forest. I’m dressed thickly and warmly. Then I find my balance and take off my boots, wool socks, and socks. I roll up my pant legs a bit. I place my bare feet on the path. Ooh, how wonderful!

Walking barefoot in nature is one of those lovely things I somehow stopped doing after growing up. As a child, going barefoot in the yard and the woods was as natural as jumping off the dock at the beach or climbing trees. Why did I abandon such sweet and innocent ways of enjoying nature at the threshold of adulthood?

Over time, the soles of my feet have grown sensitive. Stones and cones, which never slowed me down as a child, now make me wince in pain. I want to change that—to experience nature more fully through the soles of my feet. To feel a direct connection to the earth, as if I were a tree with roots reaching into the forest floor, with no layer of fabric, let alone plastic or rubber, in between.

The forest is a gentle setting for empowering barefoot exploration. Moss feels nice underfoot, and decaying leaves and needles are also surprisingly soft against bare skin. Deep in the woods, the risk of stepping on sharp human-made litter is low. Having to step carefully—avoiding rocks and branches—makes you far more aware of each step than when you’re wearing shoes. Body and mind are fully in the same place, in the moment—present.

This past winter was light on snow here in Salo. The moment I described at the beginning took place in December and was the first time I walked barefoot in a winter forest. It wasn’t a spontaneous whim—I had deliberately gone into the forest to be barefoot against nature.

The moss and rain-softened needles under my soles, and the ice-cold water pushing between my toes felt so revitalizing, it was as if I had taken a deep breath for the first time in months. Is this what a phone feels like when it’s plugged into a charger? It felt like truly waking up from the sluggish, suffocating torpor that winter often brings me.

I began to wonder—could this be the root of my annual winter fatigue? Is this what I’ve been longing for so deeply? Uninterrupted contact between the soles of my feet—or my skin in general—and the forest, every now and then?

In much the same way, I enjoy midwinter rain that runs down my face and reaches my skin. I tilt my face upward toward the rain and let the water flow. Cold water swimming also gives me that direct skin contact with nature—the most wonderful, delightful kind: natural water. Ice swimming has been my lifeline in recent winters, and this past season I started spending longer stretches in the water just to feel nature against my skin a bit longer.

Otherwise, skin contact with nature is usually completely absent in winter, when we’re layered in clothes from head to toe whenever we’re outside—and even our hands are wrapped in fabric. I, however, prefer to go without gloves in winter whenever I can. That way, I can at least feel nature with my fingers and palms.

Last winter, I ended up spending several moments in the forest walking barefoot for about fifteen minutes at a time. I wasn’t covering any distance—I was slowly moving around a small area, mostly just standing still, focusing.

First, I found a level spot where I could balance on one foot. Then I removed my boot and sock from one foot at a time, leaving them at the base of a tree. I stood still, stayed quiet, stepped around slowly, searching for the most inviting spots for my soles, carefully avoiding deer and moose droppings and branches. Moss in particular felt lovely, even though it was icy cold. A path that hadn’t looked especially wet turned out to be completely soaked—a sensation I’d never have noticed with shoes on. Finally, I returned to my balancing spot, and one foot at a time, I dried off, pulled on a sock, a wool sock, and my rubber boot. My feet warmed up immediately as I began to walk again.

And by the way: standing on one foot is said to be excellent balance training. You can practice while brushing your teeth, for example. But drying and dressing one foot while standing barefoot on the soft forest floor takes the challenge to a whole new level. In my experience, it’s very satisfying to feel yourself teeter and then manage to recover your balance just in time.

After each barefoot walk in the forest, I noticed that both body and mind felt invigorated for days afterward. It truly felt like I had been recharged. I never experienced quite the same powerful renewal on forest walks where I kept my shoes on the whole time—even though, of course, being in the forest is always good for you.

In summertime, my favorite walking surfaces are sun-warmed smooth rocks—connecting me with the ancient ground of our planet—and different types of shoreline and stream waters. Few things feel as good as plunging hot, sweaty feet into a cool stream and digging them into the sandy bottom so the sand scrapes and cools the spaces between your toes. Before late summer, though, it’s good to be aware of fish spawning—don’t wade through spawning streams before August.

And finally: Spending time in nature with such conscious attention to my own feet has, on some level, affected the way I relate to my body. Especially when I was younger, I felt a bit embarrassed that my feet were a bit bigger than most people’s. But now, when I get to experience all these lovely forest sensations through my feet—when they let me balance and send wonderful signals to my brain—I’ve started to feel deep gratitude for my healthy feet and their ability to feel. I don’t care about leg hair, scars, bruises, or an ugly toenail after a long hike—those things don’t matter. What matters is being able to stand and walk in nature and feel it with every cell of my being.

Read next

Caring for Mental Health in Nature: A Trip to the Baltic Sea’s Coastal Cliffs in Inkoo

A Rainy Forest Stroll? Definitely! Tips for Enjoying It

What Does Ice Swimming Feel Like?

The Soothing Silence of the Woods – Forest Bathing in a Finnish Spruce Forest

0 replies

Leave a Reply

Want to join the discussion?
Feel free to contribute!

Leave a Reply