Living in Florence, I met a fellow backpacker, who is a big literature nerd and convinced me to walk Il Cammino Di Dante with him. Il Cammino Di Dante is a nearly 500 km hike that traces the best estimation of Dante’s journey in exile from Florence, which inspired The Divine Comedy.
We planned to break up the through hike into 5 segments and take 100 km a week: ambitious but exciting. I started planning by combining existing routes and creating a new map with our intentions, but he stopped me short.
He explained that he really wanted to hike without a map. I thought he was crazy. Our Italian was terrible, and we’d easily get lost in the endless hills of Tuscany. But to him, it was a spiritual choice — a symbolic gesture of surrendering to the unknown and trusting in the guidance of the journey itself. He convinced me that wondering without the aid of a map would be much more reminiscent of Dante’s path, whereas following in his footsteps wouldn’t put us in the same mindset. Looking back on it, I’m not sure how he convinced me, but that’s what we did.
We only ended up trekking for two weekends, covering (to our best estimate) 140 kilometers. While we found ourselves completely off the mark of il Cammino Di Dante, we had a really easy time navigating. In fact, moving around without a map was easier until we had to navigate the train system back to Florence. Normally, when I travel somewhere new (even a new Dentist), I map it first. That simple moment of aerial orientation completely changes how I engage with a space. When I imagine orienting campus, I know which way is North and which rooms are South, and I can see the outline of each building in my head. It’s totally useful, but it causes a momentary delay, where I enter a different space to orient myself. If you asked me where the Visual Design Studio is, I imagine a map, locate myself, locate the studio, look around, find which way I’m facing, and extrapolate.
Being on il Cammino Di Dante and not having ANY idea what the aerial view was, I was a more efficient navigator. Where did we come from? THAT way. Where was that cool bird? Over THERE. Where are we going? THIS way. Without the aid of a map, I slowly learned to rely on instincts. Each turn in the road became a moment of decision, a test of my ability to read the subtle cues of the landscape and intuit the correct path forward rather than translate them onto a map. It was a challenge, to be sure, but one that ultimately deepened my understanding of orienting and Wayfinding as an art.
One of the most profound lessons I gleaned from walking il Cammino di Dante without a map was the importance of finding direction in unexpected places. Far from relying solely on physical landmarks, I discovered that people became compasses. Villagers and hikers offered guidance, camaraderie, and experiences that helped illuminate the path ahead.
It stands out that there are at least two reasons why we use maps instead of relying on THIS and THAT: maps help us hold more complex paths in our mind, and they help us communicate complex paths to others. Yet il Cammino Di Dante (our version) really opened my mind to the way maps seem to burrow into my brain and take up so much space and time.
It’s easiest to compare the realization to mapping technology, which is concerned with the divide between cyberspace and reality. One of the biggest advantages of GPS was the automation of orientation so that you only need to glance down and up again to ensure your direction. But even still, it’s dangerous for a driver to dedicate so much time to overlaying that aerial view onto the road ahead of them. Mixed Reality technology attempts to solve this problem by matching the aerial view to the driver’s field of vision. Still, the safest drivers of the near future will probably be the seasoned commuters, those who have taken that left turn often enough that they don’t need to consider whether it’s a North turn or a West turn.
Technology can help reduce orientation lag, but it’s also important to consider Wayfinding Design. Sometimes, designers rely too heavily on maps when creating a first-time experience. However, first-time users rely on external cues and landmarks to orient themselves. Even with a helpful map, they may struggle to process information efficiently and become overwhelmed. Maps offer certainty and control, but true navigation is about being open and adaptable.
Is there a version of efficient Wayfinding that minimizes reliance on aerial mapping? Is my experience relatable? A recent publication showed that childhood exposure to cardinal urban planning (like New York’s grids) makes people worse at spatial navigation, as they’re used to relying on simple systems that fall easily to mapping. Maybe the perfect Wayfinding strategy is not one that entirely relies on ground directions nor requires people to translate maps, but is somehow inclusive of both preferences. Maybe it’s deeper in one of our textbooks.
What I would bet is if we stood in Florence and I drew you a map of my path, you’d have a lot less fun than you would just going THAT way.
It’s so interesting to think about how maps and technology, despite their best intentions and design, add a lag to the viewer’s orientation processing. While there is a lot of discourse about whether aerial maps have worsened our natural wayfinding abilities, I’ve personally found that I naturally prefer spatial navigation over orienting myself through a top-down map view. It’s easier for me to locate myself by recognizing landmarks and cues physically around me. Also, I find that exploring unfamiliar terrain without a map adds to the experience because you’re forced to be more mindful of the things around you. Exploring a city would be so much better enjoying the journey rather than fixating on a destination. I think that’s true of your hike in Florence, and it really inspires me to do the same!
Thanks Hubert! I think it’s a cool way to explore, and really did exercise the spatial navigation that feels more natural. That being said, it definitely wasn’t the safest/most accurate, and I’m grateful I was in an area where everyone was helpful and the conditions were great.
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I feel like humans lost their natural compass due to the heavy reliance on technology. But in some places is still a thing to go THAT way, like in the rural side of my city. There, maps are not a thing. You rely on trees, certain ladnmarks, colors, and your brain. So I think that technology and culture affect one’s navigational compass.
I definitely think I am really bad at orienting myself BECAUSE of my heavy reliance on technology – last weekend, I tried driving home from a shop somewhere in Abu Dhabi without using Google Maps and just guessing which turns to take, I ended up getting farther away than closer! Of course, once the roads started looking less familiar I frantically turned on Google Maps and used it to get back home… I’m definitely curious about how an experience like yours, walking map-less through Italy, would help you develop a mental compass – focusing on what’s around you and not worrying about the best way to get to your destination is something I need to learn for sure!