I want to tell you about the day I went out alone for the first time.
Not alone with a group that split up. Not alone for a short stretch while someone waited at the car. Properly, fully, just-me-and-my-pack alone. Out into the wild with no one to check in with, no one to follow, and no one to blame if it all went sideways.
I was terrified. And it was one of the best things I've ever done. 🐾
🌅 The Morning Of
I'd planned the route the night before. A circular trail, about 12 kilometres, through woodland and up onto open moorland before looping back through a river valley. Nothing extreme. Nothing I hadn't done sections of before with others.
But standing at the trailhead that morning, pack on, map in hand, no one beside me — it felt enormous.
I checked my pack three times. Water: yes. Snacks: yes. First aid kit: yes. Map and compass: yes. Phone charged and route downloaded offline: yes. I had everything I needed. I knew I had everything I needed.
I still stood there for a full five minutes before I took the first step.
🌲 The First Hour
The first hour was the hardest. Not physically — the trail was gentle to start, winding through birch and oak with soft light coming through the canopy. Mentally.
Every sound felt louder. Every fork in the path felt more significant. I second-guessed a turning about twenty minutes in and spent ten minutes consulting the map before realising I'd been right the first time.
But somewhere around the 5-kilometre mark, something shifted.
I stopped thinking about what could go wrong. I started just... walking. Noticing things. A robin following me along a hedgerow for almost a quarter mile. The way the light changed as the trees thinned out. The sound of my own footsteps on the path.
It was quiet in a way it never quite is when you're with other people. A good quiet. A listening quiet.
⛰️ The Wrong Turn
I should tell you about the wrong turn, because it's important.
About two thirds of the way round, I missed a waymarker and ended up on a sheep track heading in entirely the wrong direction. I didn't panic — well, not much — but I did stop, sit down on a rock, eat a biscuit, and look at the map properly.
Ten minutes later I'd worked out exactly where I was and how to get back on route. It added about forty minutes to the walk. I didn't mind at all.
That moment — sitting on that rock, map spread across my knees, figuring it out by myself — felt like something. Like a small but real kind of confidence I hadn't had before.
Blue's tip: Getting slightly lost on a solo hike and finding your way back is one of the most valuable experiences you can have. It teaches you that you can handle it. Don't be afraid of it.
🏁 Coming Back
I got back to the trailhead about an hour later than planned. Boots muddy, legs tired, absolutely starving.
I sat on the boot of the car — well, I don't have a car, but you know what I mean — and ate the last of my snacks and looked back at the hills I'd just come through.
I'd done that. By myself. Every step, every decision, every wrong turn and correction. Me.
I went back the following weekend. And the weekend after that.
🐾 Should You Try It?
Yes. Absolutely yes. But do it sensibly:
Start with a route you know, or one that's well-marked and not too remote. Tell someone where you're going and when you expect to be back. Carry the right kit. Download your route offline. And give yourself permission to go slowly, to stop, to sit on rocks and eat biscuits and look at maps.
The wild is a different place when it's just you in it. Bigger. Quieter. More yours.
I hope you get to feel that. 🐾
— Blue
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