Forest bathing, or shinrin-yoku, began in Japan in the 1980s as a way of easing the pressure of city life. The name is a little misleading: there is no water involved, and no need to swim. It simply means bathing in the atmosphere of the forest — letting the sights, sounds and smells of the woods wash over you at a deliberately slow pace. Britain may not have the cedar groves of Japan, but our ancient woodlands, beech hangers and damp oak copses offer everything you need to try it.

What Forest Bathing Actually Involves

It is not a hike, and it is not a nature walk with a checklist of birds to tick off. Forest bathing is the practice of slowing down so much that your senses begin to work properly again. The aim is not distance covered or species spotted, but attention paid. A typical session might cover just a few hundred metres in an hour.

Researchers have linked time spent in woodland with lower levels of cortisol, the stress hormone, and with improvements in mood and concentration. Some of this is likely down to the air itself: trees release airborne compounds called phytoncides, and the quality of light beneath a canopy is softer than in the open. Much of it, though, is simpler — you are moving slowly, breathing deeply, and giving your mind a rest from screens and notifications.

Choosing Your Wood

Almost any woodland will do, but a few things help. Look for a wood with a good mix of trees and some open glades, so you have variety of light and shade. Ancient woodland — land that has been continuously wooded since at least 1600 — tends to feel richer and more layered, with moss, decaying timber and a deep leaf litter underfoot.

• Timing: early morning is quietest and often mistiest, which softens sound and light. Late afternoon brings birdsong and low golden light.
• Weather: drizzle is not a reason to cancel. Rain releases the scent of the woodland floor, and the smell of wet earth, known as petrichor, is one of the most grounding things you can breathe in.
• Access: a small local copse you can reach on foot beats a long drive to a famous forest. Regular visits to the same place deepen the practice.

A Simple Sequence to Follow

Try this on your next woodland visit. There is no need to do everything; even one or two of these stages will shift your pace.

Begin at the edge. Before you go in, stand still for two or three minutes. Let your breathing settle. Notice the point where field meets trees, and how the air feels different as you approach it.

Walk slowly, then slower. Aim for a pace at which you could hear someone walking behind you. Let your steps be quiet. Feel the ground change underfoot — leaf mould, roots, gravel, mud.

Open your senses one at a time. Spend a few minutes on sound alone. Then scent. Then touch: run your fingers over bark, moss, a beech trunk's smooth grey skin. Then simply look, without naming what you see.

Sit for at least twenty minutes. Find a log, a stump or a dry patch against a trunk and stay put. This is where the practice deepens. Boredom usually arrives around the ten-minute mark and passes. Stay through it.

Using Your Senses Deliberately

The Japanese tradition describes forest bathing as opening the five senses, and it helps to be specific rather than vaguely "mindful".

• Sound: tune into layers — wind in the canopy, a wood pigeon's lazy five-note call, the rustle of a grey squirrel, the creak of branches.
• Scent: crushed pine needles, damp moss, wild garlic in spring, the sweet fungal smell of autumn leaf litter.
• Touch: the cool underside of a fern, the roughness of oak bark, the soft give of a mossy bank.
• Sight: look for movement rather than objects — dappled light shifting, insects drifting in a sunbeam.
• Even taste: the clean coolness of the air on your tongue is enough. Do not forage unless you are certain of what you are picking.

Making It Part of Your Routine

Forest bathing works best as a habit rather than a one-off treat. Half an hour on a weekday morning, repeated weekly, will do more for you than a single three-hour expedition. Go alone if you can — company is lovely, but conversation pulls you back into thinking. If you do go with others, agree to walk in silence for part of the time.

Dress for the British weather: waterproof boots, a jacket that can cope with a shower, and something warm to sit on. Tell someone where you are going if you are heading somewhere remote. Leave your phone in your pocket, or better still, switch it off.

Slowing Down Is the Whole Point

You will not emerge from the woods a different person. What tends to happen is smaller and more useful: your shoulders drop, your breathing lengthens, and the mental chatter that followed you in begins to thin out. Trees do not need you to achieve anything. Stand among them long enough and you may find that the pressure to be productive loosens its grip, at least for an afternoon. That is the practice — nothing more complicated than paying attention, slowly, in good company.