There's a saying out on the trail: you find out who someone really is when you're three hours in, it's started raining, and you've just realised neither of you packed enough snacks.
By that measure, I know Ren very well indeed. 🦊
Ren is my best friend, my most frequent hiking companion, and the only creature I've ever met who can argue about a map with the same enthusiasm she brings to watching a sunset. She's brilliant. She's infuriating. And the wild is a better place with her in it.
Here are some of our best adventures together.
🌲 The Lost Afternoon in Ashdown Forest
It was supposed to be a simple four-hour loop. We had a map. We had a plan. What we didn't have, it turned out, was any agreement on which direction was north.
Ren is very confident with a compass. I am also very confident with a compass. The problem is that on this particular afternoon, we were confidently pointing in opposite directions.
We spent forty minutes going in a circle before admitting it to each other. Then we sat down, made tea from Ren's flask — she always brings the better flask — and actually looked at the map together properly.
We found our way. We also found a hidden pond that wasn't on the map, a family of moorhens, and a blackberry bush so laden with fruit that we ate until our paws were purple.
It remains one of my favourite days out. Entirely because of the getting lost part.
⛰️ The Big Climb
Ren suggested the big climb. I want to be clear about that.
It was a proper mountain day — an early start, full packs, the kind of ascent where you stop talking after the first hour because you need all your breath for moving. Ren set a pace that I would describe as ambitious. She would describe it as sensible.
About two thirds of the way up, the cloud came in. Thick, grey, visibility down to about twenty metres. We couldn't see the summit. We couldn't see much of anything.
We kept going.
And then, about ten minutes from the top, the cloud broke. Just for a moment — a gap opened up and we could see for miles. Hills folding into hills, a glint of sea on the horizon, the whole world laid out below us like it was showing off.
Ren didn't say anything. Neither did I. We just stood there until the cloud closed again.
That's the thing about hiking with the right person. Sometimes the best moments don't need words.
🌊 The Coastal Path
Three days. Two tents. One argument about who forgot the camp stove (it was Ren, but I've agreed to stop bringing it up).
We walked a stretch of coastal path in late summer — chalk cliffs, wildflower meadows, the sea always somewhere to our left, the smell of salt and grass and warm earth. We wild camped two nights, cooked on a borrowed stove — borrowed from a very kind couple we met on day one — and watched the sun go down over the water both evenings.
On the last morning, Ren woke me up before dawn. She'd spotted something from her tent. We sat on the clifftop wrapped in sleeping bags and watched the sun come up over the sea, turning everything gold and pink and impossible.
“Worth it?” she said.
“Always,” I said.
🐾 What I've Learned from Hiking with Ren
After all these miles together, here's what I know:
A good hiking companion makes hard days easier and good days unforgettable. They challenge you to go further than you'd go alone. They notice different things than you do — Ren spots birds I'd walk straight past; I find the best lunch spots. Together we see more than either of us would alone.
Find your Ren. Or be someone else's.
The trail is better shared. 🐾
— Blue
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