30.7.16

Solo Female Travel //

193 miles hiking & wild camping Wainwright’s Coast 2 Coast Path

A Long Walk to Freedom -193 Miles completed, alone, yet alongside others. I walked myself back to me, in my most organic state - I was free. It rained for chunks - despite it being July - the wind blew and I carried my life, my home, in a bag for two weeks, walking across the country, hiking coast to coast.

Some places were isolated and remote, others led me to a surrogate Australian family who put me up for the night, and even ended up spending a night with a female astronaut - who had been into actual space!
I did 0% training, bought a pair of walking boots the day before heading up and set straight off - after all, it’s just walking right?

Jan 2023//And what a walk it was ,crossing from one side of the UK to another - from St Beas down to Robin Hoods bay. Looking back on this chapter I see an incredible accomplishment, what an experience to adventure in such a way, hiking across England solo. And what was I walking towards, or away from? A new season or was I avoiding something?

The previous autumn I’d split form my partner of 9 years. We’d been together since I was 17, we renovated and built a home together, built lives around each other - our intials even spelt 'H.O.M.E.', but something inside of me had become unsettled.

Our friends were getting married, having babies, I was anticipating that we would inevitable be next and I wasn’t sure it’s what I wanted. It could have been lovely, we had a pretty good quality of life but something inside me was off. It felt like a piece of me was missing.

I’d been playing 'grown-up' for a while, my partner was almost a decade older than me. I'd longed to travel ever since some guys from my college returned with photos of their trip to Thailand. The ‘one day I’ll visit South-East Asia’ seed had been planted. Yet me life didn’t reflect this. I began to feel that actually there might be some things I'd like to try outside of the dynamic but I was woven with another human already.

There were discussions about ‘you go live your life and I'‘ll be here when you return’. How would it be to share in the dreaming up of ideas and adventures though instead of me going alone. To be open to the different ways and shapes life could take. I was in search of a different life entirely without a clue what it would look like - and I was terrified.

Within 6 months I had left the home we’d renovated together, the relationship and my 9-5 job. I borrowed some equipment, bought some cheap walking boots with less than 24 hours to wear them in and I set out on my first solo adventure and hiked 193 miles from Coast to Coast without any prior experience of wild camping or proper long distant hikes.

After the split I signed up to volunteer with a charity in Uganda for three months. Part of the deal is that you needed to fundraise to show your commitment. The walk was disguised as such when in fact it was more like a pilgrimage, walking myself back to me in my most organic, natural state. I raised £800.

The personal journey was priceless. Moving my body, reconnecting with nature, with myself, having everyday with just one focus - to walk a bit further. The simplicity of this had me feeling more me pretty swiftly which allowed space to see how much I had lost touch with SELF.

I became aware of the sensations in my body when I’d remove the heavy pack and pause, or make some food/hot drink/have a snack. The nourishment was received on another level by creating the space to pause and to be present.

It wasn’t always wholesome. There were plenty of times I’d grumble to myself questioning what on earth I was doing. The moaning would move subside upon reaching a peak, trading them in for breathtaking views and the sense of accomplishment instead. The critical voice still lives within, I know it’s intention is to keep me safe. We are in more regular dialogue these day so there is less friction then there once was.

These developments have been foundational in the construction of the loving and nourishing relationship I have with myself now. Nature is an an incredible teacher, teaching us when to seek shelter and how to keep putting one foot in front of the other despite ‘bad weather’, as the storms in our lives pass. I learnt to cheer myself on.

Most nights I had anxiety for company. Either thinking about the what creatures might join me in the night or whether there was anyone who would dare to open a lone tent, and if such a human existed would they frequent the hill or soft verge I had claimed that night. I got better at this. I remember the first few nights were spent just trying to make sure I didn't roll away as I hadn't set up camp on flat ground (top tip no.1). 

One night I found myself freaking out (these days I'd say it was more likely a panic attack but I hadn't validated my own feelings back then). I was feeling unsafe. In the the middle of no where. There were these old, crumbling ruins from an old mill. By this point I had got myself into a rhythm - wake up, eat, walk, eat, walk, eat, set up camp, sleep, repeat - but I was tired. I was sore and I still had a way to go. At this point I got spooked. I was beginning to worry that if someone, a baddy, was passing by, like they do, then there would be nothing I could do to protect myself from them. Whatever creature I had painted in my mind, the one who would dare unzip a lone tent at night, I was convinced would be greeting me and this would be the end of me.... 

I had to rationalise my concern as there was literally no one else to turn to or anywhere to run. I reminded myself where I was and that being in the middle of no where meant that it was unlikely anyone was around. Most people I’d met had been other walkers and were generally friendly, offering food and commenting on the task ahead. Ultimately I was right, there wasn't actually anything I could do to stop the imaginary beast but I could trust rationale and that from the outside, I'm just a tent and who would unzip a tent in the middle of no where - in the night? My heart rate decreased, I began to feel a sense of ease. My mind settled and I eventually nodded off. F.Y.I. I survived the night.


That night had drained me. The next day my mood was off, it rained, a lot and I got lost. I didn’t see anyone for hours, I was pretty miserable and then grumbling began again. Eventually I made it to civilisation and took shelter in a pub that wasn't quite open but they kindly let me in early to dry off. They probably took pity on me, by this point I was a bit of a state having spent a week in the wilderness with my own gremlins for company. I was so grateful. 

I sat on a table by a window, pulled out my journal and starred out at the rain as if in my very own melancholy music video. ‘What on earth did we decide to walk coast to coast for?!’ I was grumpy, fed up, wet through and still had so many miles left to walk. And I only had only myself to take it out on. The pub started to fill out for lunch, I was getting surrounded by normies and OAPs.

There was a couple on the table near me, grey types, looked like they were in their 70s, 80s. They were sat in silence. I watched as they came in, shown to the table they tucked themselves in and the browsed the menu. After their order was taken, he read the paper and she stared out the window. They continued like this waiting for their foor. They continued to eat in silence too. They may have been perfectly content with one another but to me the scene looked beige and lifeless.

I thought to myself ‘whatever happens we mustn’t become beige and lifeless’.

Seconds later a group of Australians entered the building who I recognised from a previous day. They were checking in to a room and gave me a nod when they spotted me, as us pilgrims do. It was obvious who was hiking C2C - I had my huge pack in the seat opposite me, waterproofs hanging up. They came over and straight away and said I was welcome to use the shower, freshen up and I would be most welcome to the spare bed if I fancied it!!

It was already a huge stretch of the comfort zone to be in a pub dining alone.. The thought of freshening up, having a shower, a bed even - it was like my prayers for safety were heard. I was going to bunk up with strangers - jee whizz. This is against everything that my parents taught us about strangers

They were like angels from down under and I felt so looked after, it was exactly what I needed. We spoke all night of adventures, life, of their daughter who was often out adventuring. They explained how I reminded them of her and how they’d like to think others would be looking out for her, so they do the same. They pointed me in the direction of where to freshen up and the sensation of the hot water on my skin was comforting. We spoke for hours, enjoyed dinner together and I felt a part of humanity - loving kindness in action. They were an absolute blessing. I felt safe, connected and loved hearing their approach to hikes, taking the bus for parts of the walk as they did for parts of the camino. They recommended the camino as it has more people my age, unlike C2C which appears to be predominately people over 50. Oldies love the lakes

The following morning I set off feeling refreshed and with a spring in my step, a complete flip from 24 hours before. I also felt more confident to speak to others and a few days later I met a female astronaut doing the hike too. She invited me to take the spare bed - most people stay in B&Bs instead of wild camping like me. That wasn't my intention when I’d mentioned my interaction with the Australians who stumbled in shortly after. Another meal was shared with our additional family member. I was relieved as we'd spent most of the day at this pub chatting. Light was fading and I wasn't feeling motivated to carry my pack and head out in search of somewhere to set up camp + my period had started too. There was one condition - she insisted we watch the 'soccer' as the Euros were on that year and she was a fan.  

A female astronaut, who had been into actual space, let me shack up with her. 

Here's to the metaphor of walking - just putting one foot in front of the other.