Proudly the city of the bicycle, Cambridge often gives the impression of a city in a rush. Its streets resound almost continuously with the squeaking of wheels and that distinctive noise of frantic brake applications. However, behind the lines of cyclists and the newly-christened cycle ‘superhighways’, there lies a different place. A city that stands apart from the rush, a city of sleepy Victorian terrace houses and seldom-visited green spaces. It’s a city that opens itself up to the casual wanderer.

I won’t pretend that I put my free time to a ‘normal’ use. Particularly in my first year, I would get some work done, get out of college and start walking. My walks began in the city centre, the streets everyone knows, but with time they would become more and more adventurous. It eventually reached the point that the other side of the railway line became familiar territory, and that the average length of my walks was around 10km. That may seem a little obsessive, but in the absence of any other sport, these wanders became my primary source of exercise.

It was never really about the exercise, however. Walking around introduced me to parts of Cambridge that could never be seen when cycling. The dense warren of lanes tucked away between the Grafton and Parker’s Piece, dotted with tiny pubs. The rows of terraces leading off the bustling Mill Road, a thoroughfare which would feel at home in North London. The misty network of fens clinging to the Cam, including the well-appointed Paradise Fen. All of these areas would certainly see the odd cyclist, but in general they seemed far removed from the city I thought I knew well from the commute to lectures.

Last Saturday I set out to regain my old pastime. Starting on Huntingdon Road, my plan was to do a loop of the city, avoiding the traditionally well-known areas as much as possible. Cutting through the recreation ground behind Histon Road, a green space guarded by bizarrely-shaped metal lamp posts, I headed north into Arbury. Home of the Cambridge Gurdwara, this suburb is possibly seen most often as a destination on double-decker buses. Wandering down through long avenues lined with semis, I reach the broad thoroughfares of Milton Road and Chesterton Road. The latter of these brings back mixed memories of trips to the boathouse, the last place I did any exercise other than walking.

Crossing the river and traversing the wide swathe of Midsummer Common, I enter the aforementioned warren of lanes at Fair Street. What is striking about these lanes is their apparent ability to house a thriving range of public houses in the most obscure of places. In the very midst of this maze, where Elm Street meets Eden Street (another great name), there are two pubs glaring at each other. After Parker’s Piece and Mill Road, I stumble across another such warren. Here, the sights include a piano lesson in a bay window looking out on to Tenison Road and a distinctive red footbridge over the railway line. ‘Distinctive’, in that its length and covered nature make you feel as if you’re trapped in the endless corridor of a horror film.

Passing two other main roads, Hills Road and Trumpington Road, the city changes completely. Tightly-packed terraces and streets are replaced by snaking green fens. It’s when you circle the city that you realise just how lopsided Cambridge is in terms of urban development. The western side, dominated by second college sites, grand houses and Sidgwick, has a considerably more open feel. To get there from the fens, I wander through the historic, twisting passageway of Maltings Lane. It’s hard to see much that has changed here, other than the angle of the buildings, seemingly bending lower with age.

One of the most useful things provided by these walks, besides the scope for interesting sights and moderate exercise, is the space for thought. As Nietzsche remarked, “Only thoughts reached by walking have value.”

This walk, which took just under two hours, was in no way exhausting or exhaustive of what there is to be found in Cambridge. A slightly strange way of using up precious free time it may be, but it is arguably a far greater way to get to know the city than being restricted to the trinity of lecture sites, college and shops. Particularly when those commutes are made on two wheels.