Steps and the city

We get halfway up the hill at the start of our urban ramble and – not for the first time this year – there's a sudden flurry of snow. Ben West, from the Get Walking Keep Walking campaign, sighs deeply.

"This is what makes my life a nightmare," he says. "Normally, if I was leading a group walk, I'd suggest it would be a good idea to go back."

Go back? A bit of snow wouldn't hurt anyone, would it? Ben's reply takes me aback. "Some of the people who come on our walks don't have a lot of money," he says. "If they get soaked, they might not have a change of clothes at home or be able to afford to turn the radiator on to dry out."

We're in Sheffield, one of four English cities (along with Manchester, Birmingham and London) involved in the Get Walking campaign. Organised by the Ramblers Association and funded by the Big Lottery, it does what its name suggests – encourages people to walk, for their physical health and mental well-being.

The difference from more regular rambling is that the walks explore the cities themselves rather than the countryside around them. Larks, curlews and carpets of heather are not guaranteed; rucksacks and bright red socks are not de rigueur.

The walks don't bother too much with main roads. They meander down quieter back streets, throwing new light on areas people may think they already know. And they seem to meet a need. Since the Sheffield project started in April 2008, it has taken about 1,200 people on its walks and sent out 2,500 information packs.

Ben West, the Sheffield co-ordinator, has agreed to meet me in a caf in Nether Edge, a leafy, rather alternative suburb, before showing me a typical walk. To reach the caf, I walk the three or so miles from my home. The first two miles, through woods and parks, have long been part of my regular routine. They offer a great time to think, though I know that a man walking through woodland with a mac and briefcase can sometimes look suspicious (best get a dog as an excuse).

I haven't tackled the last mile to the caf for about 15 years. It includes the intriguingly named Frog Walk (running into Toad Walk, naturally enough) – a steep hillside "gennel" that seems considerably more effort to climb now than it used to.

I pass people talking into mobile phones or plugged into their iPods. They are sealed in their own exclusive environments, unaware of the sounds around them. This goes precisely against the ethos of Get Walking, which promotes the social benefits of group walks, the mind-clearing perspective of getting out of the house or the car, or from in front of the computer screen.

Ben – 30, affable and annoyingly fit – echoes these thoughts in the caf. The project, he says, is aimed at people isolated from society or with health problems, people who do less than the government-recommended target of half-an-hour of moderate exercise five times a week.

"Walking is an easy way to achieve that," he says. "And being out in the fresh air is an instant pick-me-up. We say all you need is a coat and a brolly sometimes. There's no need to spend 200 on specialist walking equipment."

Sheffield was chosen for the project partly because it has a bracing history as a "walking city" (on the edge of the Peak District) and as a campaigning centre for access to moorlands.

Not all its present residents, however, have a cultural tradition of walking or, as the project has discovered, a full awareness of the infrastructure of British society. Ben recalls an early group walk that included Somalis, Nigerians and Iraqis. They passed a dentist's surgery and one asked what went on there.

"Lots of people are alienated from local society," he says. "So many people are out of work and their self-esteem is dropping. It's a spiral they can get into. On the walks you talk to people and get to know them better. They might tell you about their housing problems. It's like being a walking advice centre sometimes."

The project organises 12-week walking plans, with step-counters included in the information packs.

"We try to give people a 10,000-step target a day. That works out at about five miles, but we don't always tell them that. We tell them it means 30 minutes' walking." I puzzle about the logistics of this, but it turns out the 10,000-step target also includes all the day's other incidental walking at home or work.

Coffee finished, Ben and I set off. Across the road from the caf is a greengrocer's. "If this was one of our walks we'd maybe nip in there for a load of oranges and apples," he says. "We never take biscuits, only fresh fruit. It would be a bit hypocritical to say 'We're going for a healthy walk' and then take a packet of chocolate digestives with us."

One of Sheffield's steeper hills looms ahead. With seriously unfit people, he might break the climb into short sections with attainable targets, perhaps pausing at every other lamppost. Sadly, we fall short of our own attainable target. After 10 minutes, the flurry of snow thickens into a blizzard and we abandon the walk.

As we part, Ben says the walking routes aim to be historically interesting and include green spaces and striking views. Which, by coincidence, was my own aim more than 20 years ago when, together with the artist Norah Rogerson, I devised Sheffield Walkabout, a book of urban walks around the city. So, a couple of days later, I pull the long out-of-print book from the shelf, clip on the step-counter Ben has given me and set off to retrace one of the walks.

On the edge of the city centre, I squelch through last autumn's dead and soggy leaves, past a house with a sign in the window instructing "Ring bell for any matters or deliveries" ("matters": I like that), through areas that have hardly changed in 20 years and areas that have gone into steep decline and areas that have gone into equally steep ascent.

Small shops have been demolished to make way for vast new blocks of apartments, cutlery works have become restaurants, a school and a hospital have gone, an old Sheffield caf where Picasso once had a cup of tea has become a balti house. I notice all this purely because I've gone for an urban ramble and set out to notice. And – this is the great thing – by the end I've totted up 13,059 steps.

Three thousand and fifty-nine steps over target. I've got walking. I'll keep walking.

Get Walking Keep Walking: 0114 205 3954, www.getwalking.org.uk