Disregarding some failed camping trips to the bottom of the garden with my cousins, the first time I slept outside after a hike was on the south west coast path with my good friend Colin, aged 20. We were training for the Appalachian trail and we were dutifully carrying everything the people in our local outdoor store in Plymouth told us that we’d need. We collapsed onto the beach at Polperro, having schlepped some 18 miles from Colin’s home in Plymouth. We ravaged the local convenience store for beer, cake, pies and other delights, and lay there in the sand feeling like kings. We had not carried enough food, hiked too far on our untested feet, with bags that were too heavy and, in Colin’s case, wearing boots that were one size too small. We were tired, dehydrated and a little sunburned. After stumbling up the hill to the campsite we were told it wasn’t open to tents yet, so we set our tents up on a football pitch opposite.
My sleeping pad was crispy and new, my sleeping bag fluffy and warm. Lying there under the shimmering green light of my new tent, I don't think I've ever slept better.
The next day after breakfast we hiked the same distance again, slept well on another dubious campsite, then again and again until we were nearly 90 miles from home. I was amazed at how far we were going – growing up, I had visited these places I was now walking by, had spent hours driving down windy Cornish lanes in search of good beaches, fresh crabbing spots, or latterly hidden spots I had explored looking for surf.
I was immediately seduced by the adventure of hiking on a linear trail, connecting spots on the map beyond the far reaching horizon. I wanted to go further each day, to test what I was really capable of and every night I fell asleep excited about what the next day would bring. “I wonder where I'll sleep tomorrow?”
In the years since, I think I've spent over 1500 nights in a tent - It has never once got boring.
Alex – Communications Team
My first thru-hike happened to be Te Araroa, the 3,000km trail in New Zealand. I had experience of camping, and of hiking, but had never stitched the two together. I started on a whim and only intended to hike the North Island, but after meeting some other hikers, the experience quickly snowballed and I ended up walking the entire thing.
You can’t get more of a brutal and varied first week of thru-hiking than Te Araroa, and after 90-mile beach and the northern forests, I felt truly proud and accomplished. I knew after that first week that I wouldn’t want to stop until I finished the whole trail.
I learned all sorts of thru-hiking quirks along the way. I embraced doing laundry in my waterproofs, eating a pie at every opportunity, and hitchhiking into town. I quickly decided that the less you carry, the more fun you have. The first items I ditched were a leaky water bottle, a pack of cards, a towel and a pair of socks (I started with four pairs!). I slept in some weird places, made loads of weird thru-hiker friends and I felt the most free I’ve ever felt before or since.
Ellie – Sewing Team
My first back-to-back hike was a small section of the GR34 along the Breton coast in north west France. The weather was incredible for early May and 3 out of the 5 nights were so nice that my tent stayed packed away, and I bivied on the cliff tops with the gentle sound of the waves and beautiful sunsets over the Atlantic.
Highlights of the trip included hot croissants in Morgat and countless sea swims along the way. In Dournanez, I devoured the speciality Kouign Amann (think incredibly buttery pastry engulfed in salted caramel) on the quayside before a final swim. It was the perfect end to the mini adventure.
The main challenge for me was blisters and, after a bit of denial, I ditched my knackered, too-small trainers and adopted crocs for the final leg!
Miryam – Communications Team
My first thru-hike was an English classic – the Pennine Way. A rite of passage for any UK thru-hiker, this iconic trail stretches from Edale in the Peak District to Kirk Yetholm at the Scottish border. Since it was my first proper thru-hike, I had no real idea what I was in for. I'd done a few overnight hikes, including wild camping, but never more than two nights in a row or 10 miles a day. With two weeks to complete the Pennine Way, I set myself the goal of averaging 19 miles a day.
The rain began shortly after I left the pub in Edale, the official starting point, and barely relented for the entire journey. The trail quickly turned into a soggy, boggy quagmire. Walking day after day with wet socks and shoes became a test of endurance, and the true capabilities of Compeed (other brands are available). Blisters soon formed, but despite the challenge, the Pennine Way offered stunning, remote landscapes, and a real sense of accomplishment each day as I pushed through. It was a tough but unforgettable experience, one that taught me the importance of preparation and perseverance on the trail. It was great prep for the following year when I started Land's End to John o' Groats.
