The birds nesting in this leafy beech forest are having a hard time today. The usually quiet woods surrounding the Westerwald town of Rengsdorf (pop. 2,800), just north of Koblenz, are echoing with the rhythmic stomp of marching feet. It's the 33rd local Volkswanderung (people's hike), and some 600 walkers have come from all around to tromp the hills and dales together.

I am one of 2 million Germans who take part in these collective marches every year, a pastime with its roots in the early 1800s, when members of Turnvereine (gymnastic clubs) began prowling the countryside in organized groups. Communal hiking was championed by 19th century socialists as a way to withstand the ravages of capitalist exploitation, and by young members of the early 20th century Wandervogel movement as a way to escape the strictures of a repressive society. But when the first real Volksmarches were launched by local sports and walking clubs in 1968, it was the beginning of "organized hiking events for the untrained masses after the war," says Michael Mallmann, secretary of the German Popular Sports Association (DVV), a group founded by walkers in 1970. Soon the DVV and other sports clubs—Rengsdorf's gym club among them—began to organize regular hikes which, besides being noncompetitive, offered the comfort of well-marked routes, catering and medical care. Today, Germans can choose from more than 1,000 such events throughout the country each year.

You might be mystified as to why people would go into the woods with hundreds of other hikers instead of enjoying nature in solitude. Some of us do it now because we did it then. In 1978, I went on my first Volkswanderung through the Siebengebirge (Seven Hills), near my Rhineland hometown of Bad Honnef. I was 14, and my three girlfriends from school and I thought it was so cool to do the 28-km hike faster than most of the grown-ups. Today, it's a feeling of nostalgia for my childhood that compels me to take part in this and other marches—but I do it at a much more sedate pace. In fact, for most folks here today, it's about family. "It's a tradition that we visit our aunt here and then do the march," says Sarah Obermüller, 20, a social-service volunteer from Cologne who's walking 21 km today. "I don't usually go in for hiking but this is fun."

But the Volkswanderer don't just stick to their own groups. Whenever people stop en route to take a breather, passing hikers are likely to linger to exchange views on the condition of the track or the beauty of the scenery. Discussions of the latest gossip or even the state of the economy are sure to follow. "These walks are great for meeting many new people," says Michaela Hoffmann, 47, a construction draftswoman from Rengsdorf. People here, she believes, "share the same way of thinking, a love of nature, of sociability and general joie de vivre."

Especially convivial are the checkpoints where hikers receive stamps for a registration card that proves they've gone the distance. Gathered at rickety beer-garden tables under the towering trees at the 6-km stop, people are quaffing good beer, munching good sausages and and enjoying the good company of strangers. Children are playing hide-and-seek in the underbrush. I simply rest my feet, which are already beginning to sting in unexpected places, and let my eyes do the roaming for a while—until we all start marching again. This may not be unspoiled nature and romantic solitude, but it sure is fun.