One pine tree looks very much like another. This is my first thought as I wander into the forest looking for a tree to “connect with”. When I find this special tree, I’ve been instructed to greet it like an old friend, to share what’s on my mind, maybe even give it a hug. I’m hoping to find a gnarly old oak, a mournful willow perhaps, but this is a plantation forest, the arboreal equivalent of “Pines R Us”. Oh well. This one will do. Self-consciously, I wrap my arms around a spindly sapling. We both know it’s not right, but the clock is ticking. And then I spot it, glowing in the bosky gloom – a ghostly silver birch. I make my excuses – “Sorry, I’ve just seen a better tree over there” – and make my way over to the birch. As I get closer I notice that its papery bark is covered in some kind of green fungus. I look around. I’ve lost sight of the rest of the group and my allocated 10 minutes are up. It occurs to me that this is some kind of clunky metaphor for my life: I’ve spent so long looking for the perfect tree that I’ve run out of time.
When I eventually rejoin the rest of the group, our guide invites us to share any insights gained from our tree encounter while passing around a pine cone. One of the women describes feeling a profound sense of peace. I decide not to share that none of the trees were good enough for me.
Forest bathing is the latest health and wellbeing craze to hit the UK. An import from Japan, it’s been greeted with equal parts enthusiasm and scepticism, much like sushi when it first arrived on British shores. No swimming is involved; the bathing part simply means using all of your senses to soak up the special atmosphere of the forest. And it’s big. From self-help books to Center Parcs (which has incorporated forest-bathing principles into its new Sherwood Forest spa), the healing power of trees is suddenly everywhere. The Forestry Commission, which manages almost 1m hectares of woodland in England, plans to launch a nationwide forest-bathing programme next year. And even city dwellers can get their tree fix with guided forest-bathing “experiences” popping up in parks from London to New York.
But isn’t this just a marketing ploy to repackage the simple notion of going for a walk in the woods as a new alternative therapy? Apparently not. Japan is the most densely populated country on earth, with correspondingly high stress levels. It’s also one of the most heavily forested. In the 1980s the Japanese government carried out extensive scientific research which found that a two-hour forest-bathing session could reduce blood pressure, lower cortisol levels and improve concentration and memory. Their findings went beyond the usual correlations between fresh air, exercise and wellbeing. They found that the chemicals released by trees, known as phytoncides, could have an anti-microbial effect on our bodies, boosting the immune system. As a result of this research, forest bathing, or shinrin-yoku, was introduced as a national health programme.
The first designated forest-bathing location was the beautiful Akasawa forest in Nagano prefecture on the old Samurai Trail, where groves of Japanese cypress trees tower 35m high. I’m trying it out in Thorpe Forest in Norfolk, just a few miles from Thetford, on the Dad’s Army trail (the TV series was famously filmed in and around the town). Forest Holidays, which offers accommodation in luxury woodland cabins at 10 locations around the UK, was among the first in the UK to spot the trend’s potential. Alongside more conventional ranger-led woodland activities, guests and day visitors to its Norfolk and Hampshire sites can now book a three-hour guided forest-bathing experience.
“This is not a hike, it’s not exercise, it’s not a nature walk,” explains our ranger Charlie, who attended an eight-day residential course in France to qualify as a forest-therapy guide. “It’s much closer to mindfulness.” She leads our small group to a large clearing in the forest and invites us to close our eyes and awaken our senses, feeling the ground beneath our feet, inhaling the scent of pine and listening to the wind in the trees. It’s the first of a series of “invitations”, or gentle guided meditations, which are designed to quieten the mind and deepen our connection with our surroundings.
Charlie calls the next exercise “What’s in motion?” This involves walking very slowly and attentively through the forest and noting the things that are growing or moving around us. It proves surprisingly difficult. My preferred way of being outdoors is to go for a long, strenuous walk. To creep along at a snail’s pace, noticing every leaf that quivers, is a challenge and I find my mind strays and my pace involuntarily picks up. But eventually the stillness of the forest on this cold spring day starts to work its magic. I slow down. I stare at the hypnotic swaying of the pines. Charlie spots a muntjac disappearing into the undergrowth. The spell is unceremoniously broken by a blast of Snow Patrol from the portable speakers of a group of teenagers marching past on some kind of adventure training exercise. Then it’s time for our “meet a tree” bonding session (enlightening) and Charlie asks us to finish by getting into pairs and swapping stories about trees that have meant something to us. The session ends with a Japanese tea ceremony – the tea infused with foraged nettles, pine needles or blackberries depending on the time of year – the first cup being offered to the forest as a way of giving thanks.
The day finishes with my own interpretation of forest bathing – a long twilight soak in the hot tub on my cabin deck with a glass of wine, staring up at the trees above. After a long winter – most of which was spent huddled in front of a computer screen, or scurrying, head down, between the school run, train station and office – it feels like the first time in months that I’ve actually taken a deep breath, allowed my shoulders to drop and just enjoyed the feeling of being outside. Call it shinrin-yoku, forest bathing, a walk in the woods, call it whatever you like, but it feels good.
Essentials
A three-night stay in a Forest Holidays Silver Birch cabin with hot tub, sleeping four, costs from £610. Forest Bathing is available twice-weekly at Thorpe Forest in Norfolk and Blackwood Forest in Hampshire and costs £30 per person (forestholidays.co.uk)
Five more forest bathing experiences
1. Glamping specialist Canopy and Stars has launched a Shinrin-Yoku collection of woodland properties. At the Walden treehouse in Herefordshire you can soak up the canopy views from your balcony bath tub, go wild swimming in the lake and take woodworking classes. From £135 per night (canopyandstars.com)
2. Center Parcs has revamped the Forest Spa at its Sherwood Forest site, taking inspiration from the principles of forest bathing to include outdoor areas and walkways, a 10m-high Treetop Sauna and a Nordic Forest spa experience. Day packages cost from £119 (aquasana.co.uk)
3. La Clairière, a spa hotel in the Vosges natural park in Alsace, offers a five-night forest bathing package which includes three guided forest walks and a body treatment with essential pine oils. From £625pp sharing a double room, half-board (la-clairiere.com)
4. Proof that you can harness the healing power of trees in even the most built-up metropolis: Treebath is a New York-based company which offers guided forest-bathing experiences in Central Park, Battery Park and the Hudson River Park. Trial classes cost £18, and a 2½ hour Signature Forest Therapy walk costs $72 (tree-bath.com)
5. In Japan the Forest Bathing Society has a website listing 62 forests which are deemed to have the optimum environment for shinrin yoku and which have signposted Therapy Roads, or trails. One of the most accessible from central Tokyo is the Okutama Forest Therapy Centre, a two-hour train journey from the city, which offers guided walks and forest yoga (fo-society.jp)
