Chapter 6 centres on a cluster of related activities loosely designated as ‘tramping’: primarily labour migrancy and rural vagrancy but also the leisure activity known today as hiking. The advent of covert investigation radically extended the possibilities for exploring the hardships and freedoms associated with these overlapping varieties of mobility. In illuminating the psychology, social mores, and solidarities of lives spent on the move, undercover journalists changed the way Britons viewed rural space and its inhabitants. Foremost among the many writers impacted by this development was Thomas Hardy, whose Tess of the D’Urbervilles (1891–92) is set in a landscape being doubly reshaped by labour migrancy and pedestrian tourism. In Tess Durbeyfield and Angel Clare’s aimless but utopian flight across open country, Hardy imagines a new kind of cross-class ‘tramping’ whose origins can be traced back to the impersonations and blurred identities of investigative journalism’s most openly participatory genre.

In solitude, as with any human experience, choice is an important driver. We know that humans, in general, like having some decision-making capability, or at least the perception of it. Positive time spent in solitude stems from the desire to be with ourselves, and we talk about how to exercise choice to be more comfortable and stronger in solitude. Simply wanting to avoid other people does not unlock its benefits and opportunities. The fact that you choose to devote your morning walk, drive to work, or shower time to solitude is what matters in building an enduring practice of everyday solitude. In this chapter, we also consider involuntary solitude, like prisoners in solitary confinement and pandemic lockdowns. This chapter also looks at what it means to have a "preference for solitude," the importance of understanding motivation in why we’re choosing time alone, and what it means to have the right framing and expectations for solitude.

Richard Wagner was a composer keenly aware of the state of his health and willing to go to great lengths to improve it. Like many Europeans of his era, Wagner often sought relief for his physical and mental afflictions at one of the region’s many spas. The basic principles of hydrotherapy dated back to Roman times, but the nineteenth century saw an explosion in the development of spa facilities and an accompanying profusion of professional and lay healers who proffered their healing methods to spa patrons of all classes. Offering a glimpse into the flourishing culture of water cures during Wagner’s time, this chapter illuminates key elements of the spa regimen, explores several of Wagner’s spa getaways and their curative aims, and weighs various views on diet, exercise, and hydrotherapeutic techniques promoted by nineteenth-century health advocates such as Vincenz Priessnitz and Sebastian Kneipp.