Dr. John Francis, 79, (at left) is an environmental educator and activist best known for his commitment to walking and silence as tools for raising awareness about the planet. Through decades of walking, learning, and teaching, Dr. Francis has cultivated a unique perspective on environmentalism, education, and the power of silence. 

Dr. Francis, what led you to dedicate yourself to environmental education?

I was born in Philadelphia, but my education started with my family living in Harmony Village, Virginia. We didn’t have electricity or running water, so everything came out of a well. We grew our own food and fished in the bay—chickens, eggs, hogs, and all those kinds of things.

I started learning about the environment once I moved to California and witnessed an oil spill. There was an oil spill in San Francisco Bay, my first time seeing an environmental insult up close that affected a large area. That’s when I really started thinking about the environment and our impact on it.

What inspired your decision to stop riding in cars and commit to walking everywhere?
An oil spill in San Francisco Bay was my first time really, personally, up close and personal, seeing an environmental insult that took over a large area. And that’s when I really started looking at the environment and our impact on it, what it meant.

That’s when I gave up riding in cars and started walking. And I guess it was a few months after that, on my 27th birthday, I decided to take a one-day vow of silence, which lasted for 17 years. And during that silence is when my real education about the environment and the planet, life, and all that’s important really began.  (Dr. Francis, at right, in walking mode)

How did people react to your decision to walk everywhere?
I think at first, people thought I was a little strange. But over time, people came to accept it. Walking changed the way I experienced the world and how people interacted with me. I found that people were kinder, maybe because of the silence, the walking, and how that affected me—and how that allowed people to relate to me in a very kind way.”

Did you struggle with the challenges of not using cars, especially while pursuing your education?

It took me two years to walk to the University of Montana for my master’s degree. When I got there, they made me a resident of Montana because it had taken me so long to arrive. They said, ‘We’ve been getting mail for you here, so you’re a resident,’ and they gave me in-state tuition. Because I didn’t have money, the environmental studies program director gave me $100 to register for one credit, which let me matriculate in the school.

When the Coast Guard later offered me a job helping to write oil pollution regulations, they called and said, ‘We’d like you to come to Washington.’ I said, ‘I don’t fly on planes.’ They said, ‘If you take a train, we can reimburse you.’ And I said, ‘I don’t take trains either.’ There was this long pause, and then they asked, ‘Dr. Francis, you don’t ride in cars either, do you?’ I said, ‘No, I don’t.’ And they said, ‘How will you get here?’ I told them I could ride my bicycle. The next day, they called back and said, ‘Our boss said we absolutely have to have you. How long will it take for you to get here?’ I told them about two months, and they said, ‘We’ll be waiting.’

What led you to eventually started using vehicles, mainly hybrid?
By the time I was in South America, I had been walking for decades. But at a certain point, I realized that using transportation in a purposeful way could still align with my mission. So, when I was walking across Venezuela, I started using motorized vehicles to come back and forth while continuing my journey on foot. That was a big shift, but it allowed me to keep engaging with the world while still honoring the lessons I had learned through walking.

How did your vow of silence shape your experience in higher education and travel? How did institutions accommodate your unique approach to learning?

I was actually a college dropout up to that point, and when I went back to school, not speaking, is when I became very serious about learning. My long-term goal was to walk and sail around the planet as part of my education, in the spirit and hope that I could be a benefit to mankind.

I had spent six years in silence, and it was noted in the media, so people knew about me and accepted that it wasn’t just a joke but a belief and a practice. My professors liked the part of me listening.

At the University of Montana, the environmental studies program director gave me $100 to register for one credit, which let me matriculate in the school for one credit. He then said, ‘You’re going to South America, aren’t you?’ I had no idea. Then he said, ‘How about studying the rivers, lakes, and hydrological systems of South America for one credit?’ I agreed, which got me a key to an office as a graduate student, access to the library, and permission from professors to take their classes.

What lessons did silence teach you?  

I think I managed as an African American walking across America because people were kind. Maybe it was the silence and walking that affected me and allowed people to relate to me kindly, showing me how kindness could transcend politics, race, and social status—things that separate us.

I was reminded all the time that America is built from taking from the Native people, and then built on slavery. And, you know, I don’t want to hold people accountable for that, because it’s also part of that separation that we—we separate each other, and I want to transcend that.

How are your plans to walk across Africa progressing?

I had to wait until my youngest son, who had just turned 18 and was ready for college. My wife said, “You should do what you need to do,” and I decided to go back to walking across Africa.

In 2022, I went to Kenya to survey the possibilities, having never been to the continent. Africa is enormous—much bigger than it looks on a map. In 2023, a friend in Cape Town, South Africa, invited me to start the walk there and helped me with the first 100 miles. I began walking from Cape Town to Cairo that year, and I’ve been continuing ever since. By July, I plan to return for three months. So far, I’ve walked to Beaufort West, South Africa, and I’m heading toward Gaborone, Botswana.

The walk is for children, providing pop-up clinics for remote healthcare. I use a support vehicle, a Toyota Land Cruiser with tents and 4-wheel drive, and walk about 15 miles a day.

What does “aging with attitude” mean to you?

If someone says, ‘Well, what do you think about aging?‘ I go, ‘I love it. And I always did.’ I love it because I have been on the planet for so long, and I have much more to learn and more steps to take, so I’m going to take those. I’m going to keep my mind open, and I’m going to keep moving as long as I can.

Learn more about Planet Walk at planetwalk.org.

NaBeela Washington, an emerging Black writer, holds a Master’s in Creative Writing and English from Southern New Hampshire University and Bachelor’s in Visual Advertising from The University of Alabama at Birmingham. She has been published in Eater, The Cincinnati Review, and others. Learn more at nabeelawashington.com.

All Photos: Courtesy of PlanetWalk