The tenth of November was a sunny Autumnal day. Nothing remarkable. But to me, it marked the end of an era and a whole new start.

You see on that day, I went for a walk wearing a brand new pair of hiking boots. My old boots - the pair I’d bought just two weeks before I climbed Kilimanjaro back in 2017 - were left at home, retired from service. 

Those boots were big, heavy, leather mountaineering boots, unlike any others I’d ever owned. When I bought them, I was anxious about wearing them, convinced they’d give me blisters or that I'd find them too heavy. But I didn’t have a choice. I needed boots and thanks to the truly exceptional service from the boot shop, I made it to the top of Kilimanjaro without issue.

Those same boots got me solo along the length of the Northumberland coast path, the Norfolk coast path, the Esk River Valley, the West Highland Way, Tour de Mont Blanc, and miles and miles and miles of others trails.

They were so much more than footwear though. Those sturdy boots of mine helped me take the steps I needed into my new life; they were my loyal companion. Every time life got hard, I’d put them on, lace them up, head out and they carried me to a place of calm. Up and down steep hills, through moments of laughter, joy, wonder, grief, sadness, rage, and shouting at sheep. They’ve been with me every step of the way, in every weather imaginable. 

They became so comfortable, like an extension of my body. I’d stick them on my feet and it would feel like home. It was in those boots that I rediscovered myself. They gave me my joy and confidence back. Who knew that a simple pair of boots could have so much power? 

But then, as with anything, over time they wore out. A couple of weeks ago, while hiking in the rain, those wonderful boots that had never once leaked, became water logged because the leather was cracked. 

I knew it was time for another pair. It felt like I was cheating even thinking about it. 

I headed back to the same shop that I got the original pair from, being fitted by the same man who served me the first time. He didn’t even ask me if I wanted the same boots again. 

He simply measured me, took out the exact same pair of boots, only now with a snazzy green bit of leather at the back, and did exactly what he did before, waxing and steaming the boots so that they’d fit my wide feet. He also pooh-poohed my faithful Brigdale socks which I’d had for even longer than my boots. They were so threadbare they almost didn’t count as socks any more and he insisted I get some new ones.

And so, on the sunny Autumnal day, I took my new boots for a walk, feeling strangely heart-broken about leaving my old faithful boots behind. I genuinely cried as I walked, thinking about all the steps I had taken in them.

The new ones felt a bit weird, slightly uncomfortable, but not massively so. They clearly fit, but there weren’t yet soft. They didn’t mould to my feet like the old ones had. Yet. But I knew with time and wearing them in, that I’d get used to them. 

It occurred to me, as I crunched through Autumn leaves in those new boots, that there’s a metaphor there for life. 

Sometimes, even though you don’t want change, it is forced upon you. Or possibly you’ve simply outgrown your old life. It feels worn out and in need of something new. 

If I think about when I got divorced, I didn’t choose that. I was comfortable in my life even though there were signs of distress. Our love had sprung a leak, much the same way my boots did. 

But the decision was taken out of my hands and I was forced to accept a whole new future. Wearing this new life felt really uncomfortable for while. But I did it. I wore it in. And I got used to is. Gradually it became me. My new identity now feels more familiar than the old. 

So many people find themselves at a cross roads in life, either because it happens to them, or they simply look at their tired life and know it needs to change. But they don’t know what they want it to look like. 

Just the same way that you can’t keep walking in boots that no longer fit or work properly, you can’t keep living a life that no longer fits you. Change is hard. But staying the same and not truly living, is even harder. Sitting in a state of indecision is hardest of all.

Weirdly, as I walked in those new boots, I made a voice recording (which possibly makes me sound like a mad woman) and in it I said: ‘I just want to say thank you to my old boots for carrying me through all the hard times. You were awesome. To my new boots, I’m sure we’re going to have just as many incredible adventures. And maybe you’re the fresh start I need to go find those new adventures because I have been stuck on the hamster wheel of indecision. Let’s go make some memories.’

Well guess what? 

On the drive on the way home from that walk, I had a brainwave, a business idea that felt so aligned to me. By the end of the day I had created an entirely new thing, which I will be launching next week. So watch this space!

This is a step out of my comfort zone. But I believe in living by example. Sometimes you have to be brave and try a new thing, a new project, a new life. I feel that this initiative perfectly fits me, where I am and where I want to go in life. I can’t wait to unveil it.
​
Until then, look at your life. Could it do with some updating? If yes, don’t be afraid to change. My new business venture will help you do exactly that! Check back on the Glamoraks website or on the app next week.

The Herriot Way is a 52-mile circular walk through the beautiful Yorkshire Dales, England. It has a height gain of 2,350m with matching descent. The handy guide (shown above) suggests doing it over four days, which amounts to roughly 13 miles each day. You can do it in three days, which will involve a 19 mile, 20m and 11m day, or you can take even longer. It's certainly pretty enough to linger. The book gives suggestions for all itineraries. 

I used the book to help me find accommodation (which I suggest you pre-book in busy season as options are limited) and to read up on what you  should see on each leg. I did see people wild camping if that's your bag, although it's not strictly allowed. 

If you want to get the book and the digital maps that go with it, go here.
Although I recommend getting the book, I didn't end up using the digital maps, I opted to use my Ordnance Survey app. You can find the route here. 

Incidentally, as the route is circular, you can start anywhere and walk in either direction, but the book is written with a start in Aysgarth walking clockwise, going to Hawes, then Keld, then Reeth, and then back to Aysgarth,

With the practicalities out of the way, let me tell you what it was like...

It had been a while since I did a multi-day, solo hike but sometimes I just like to get out in nature alone. Little did I know when I booked my accommodation for this particular walk that it would be the hottest weekend of the year, with heatwave warnings. ​I don't do well in heat, but I decided to start early and just do it. 

Day 1 is relatively flat and easy walking, mostly along the River Ure. Top tip: park in the Aysgarth Falls National Park carpark. It costs £20 for 7 days, which will be more than enough even if you get lost! From the carpark, you immediately take in the falls, before tackling the first of many very skinny gates. 

If you - like me - sport a middle-aged bust, belly and butt - fitting all three plus a backpack through a skinny gate takes some doing. By the end of day one, you will have perfected the technique of shuffling and hoiking anatomy parts, without falling off the stones on the far side or getting a fiercely sprung gate swinging back and smacking your backside as you step through. 

Anyway, you walk about a mile to get to Aysgarth to technically start the walk and then it's just sheer loveliness. Bubbling river, bleating sheep, bunnies hopping, bridges and stepping stones to cross, gorgeous tumbledown stone barns and only one field that had cows in it! I even passed a group of women wild swimming in the river. Given that it was well before 7am, it must have been parky.

Just as I began to get a sweat on, I got the chance to cool off by sitting on some stepping stones that make their way over the River Ure. It was gorgeous and I was very tempted to have a dip.

Shortly thereafter, I arrived in Askrigg, known as the location of the TV series All Creatures Great and Small based on the books by James Herriot. The pretty village has a rather magnificent tearoom called The Bake-Well, and it does indeed bake well. I had a delicious warm raspberry scone with raspberry jam and cream for breakfast (my food choices might explain the challenge of fitting through the skinny gates.....)

After feeling suitably revived, I headed out of the village and was delighted by a tiny art gallery and a neighbouring tiny library, two quirky cupboards on the side of the road serving as a surprising treasure trove. 

From there the route takes you through some shaded woods and the chance to see a second waterfall, Mill Gill Falls. It's a short diversion off the path but worth a quiet moment of tranquility and cool. 

​You eventually arrive at the Simonstone Hotel, famed for the 'Top Gear Fracas'.(There's even a plaque at the hotel to commemorate the incident). Soon after that you arrive at Hardraw, famed for its falls, and third waterfall of the day. You have to pay £4 to go in and see the falls, but on a hot day, I can highly recommend it, dipping your toes in the icy water and lying on the cool rocks to chill out. ​

A final downhill but hot walk into Hawes where a myriad of shops and eateries await. In my case, a bed in my hotel where I could lie down and try to stop sweating!

Knowing that the temperature was forecast to be 31C and the walk including a big climb up Great Shunner fell and a second small hill, I decided to forego my lovely cooked breakfast, and began walking at 4.30am. I am so glad I did. It was beautiful!

I got to watch the sun rise and the moon set, while walking through quiet dewy fields with sleeping sheep and birds just waking up. It was almost spiritual. 

Despite a gloriously cool start, by the time I'd climbed the foothills of Great Shunner Fell, which is the third highest peak in Yorkshire, I had a sweat on. I could also see the line of shade coming to an end as soon as the sun popped above the hill. 

But the walk itself up Great Shunner fell, while uphill, is not steep and has stunning views in all directions. There wasn't another soul in sight and as the elevation rose, the breeze picked up and kept the temperature manageable. It does have several false summits, and just when you think you've got to the top, you realise you have a way still to go. The view was, however, worth it once I got there.

The shelter was a wonderful spot for breakfast and I found another human! A lone wild camper who had spent the night up there. What a great place for a sleep out. ​

There's a long, hot downhill towards the tiny but very pretty hamlet of Thwaite. The path is very simple to follow, with paving slabs for a lot of it. Once in Thwaite, the temperature was as advertised. I popped into Kearton Country Hotel, whose tea room wasn't yet open, but they kindly sold me a cold drink and a bag of crisps to replenish the salts I'd sweated out. I sat in the shade on the bus stop bench, waving away the tiny white bus that came along at one point. It was lovely to watch village life unfold gently as I rested.

While I wanted to linger longer, the sun wasn't getting any lower in the sky and I new I had another hill to go. For a short while you follow the Pennine Way, before the paths diverge and my route headed steeply up Kidston Hill (almost 200 metres up in quite a short distance). By this time there was very little shade and I was very hot!

Then it was a simple enough walk down the other side and into Keld and the welcome shady embrace of a small tea room next to my accommodation for the night (Keld Lodge). Is there anything more joyful than a lovely meal, eaten in the shade, with your boots off, knowing you've done the hard work for the day and you still have the afternoon to relax?

I decided to put my swimmers on and walked about a mile or so to Kidston Force, another series of small waterfalls with plenty of ledges to sunbathe on. While I'd barely seen a soul on my walk, I found them all at this wild swimming spot! But it was lovely to take a dip and lie back and stare at the blue sky. 

I spent the evening chatting to some of the coast to coasters who were staying at the same lodge for the night. Keld is a crossing point for the Pennine Way and the Coast to Coast, a walk I'd done ten years previously and I was reminded of the convivial comeraderie that exists between long distance walkers. 

I should pause here and say that on this day, you have a choice of two routes. The low route, which I did that runs along the river, and the high route that goes over the top of the fells. I wanted to do the high route as I'd done the low route previously on the Coast to Coast, but I was advised that there is zero shade on the top and given it was another hot day and my energy reserves were wholly depleted, I took the low road.

Now in theory this should have been a relatively easy day. as the route I picked is relatively flattish, and it was meant to be slightly cooler and there was a breeze. However, I had failed to take rehydrate supplements the night before and I knew the minute I woke up that I wasn't in peak physical condition. I was showing all the signs of heat exhaustion. 

Despite that, I got up early again and was walking by 6am, a ham and mustard sandwich and flapjack as my take away breakfast provided by the lodge. 

I retraced my steps past the waterfall I'd seen the day before, The walk from Keld to Muker and onto Gunnerside is honestly one of the most beautiful anywhere. Idyllic views down into the Swaledale valley and awash with wildlife: sheep, bunnies, deer, pheasant, all sorts of water fowl - it was like walking in the garden of Eden without another soul in sight. 

I ate my breakfast sitting on a rock with my feet in the cool water, enjoying the peace while trying to summon the energy to keep moving. Arriving at Gunnerside, I had hoped to find an open tea room, but no such luck and it was too early for the pub to open. Even the public toilets required a 20p piece to use them (top tip, carry 20ps with you on this walk as most of the toilets require them.)

So having not had a soul-reviving snack - which walkers know are the entire point of the walk - I had to climb up a steep hill to take in the view down into the valley. The views were lovely. The woods that came next were not.  Called Rowleth Woods, the book advises you to watch your step. I advise that you wear long trousers as it is nettle, bramble and thistle central, completely overgrown and more like a jungle than the English countryside. 

Completely scratched, nettled and hot, I emerged sweaty and grouchy. I then proceeded to miss the turn off and had to add an extra dog leg. By this point my sense of humour had failed me. I opted to follow a footpath sign to Reeth rather than follow the actual route. The footpath alongside the river was lovely. The road stretch less so. I picked up the designated path which by this point felt like a route march. Honestly, it would be a lovely walk but I just had no energy due to the aforementioned heat exhaustion. I ended up lying down on the grass near the swing bridge outside Reeth.

Arriving at my accommodation for the night - the Black Bull pub - I tucked into an enormous Sunday carvery (double thumbs up from me), followed by a delicious ice cream from the local ice cream shop. I sat on a bench in the sun and tried to revive my spirits. The thought of doing another 14 miles the next day did not fill me with cheer. 

However, discovering there was no bus between Reeth and Aysgarth, and having rehydrated, refuelled and slept, I was ready to take on the fourth and final day. 

Despite the forecast being significantly cooler (but with the risk of thundershowers), I decided to set off early once again as the beauty and calm of the mornings made up for the lack of cooked breakfasts. 

I set off from Reeth heading towards Grinton and the climb up to the top of the fell started almost immediately. There is an option to take a short cut which would cut a mile and a half off the walk, but the book advised against trying to find the path if it was misty. And it was indeed misty. 

So I took the long route, hunkering down in some heather for my basic breakfast of bread, butter and jam. But there is something very grounding and joyful about sitting amongst heather in the mist eating simple fare. 

Once on top of High Harker hill, it's an easy walk along a wide track with stunning views (once the mist cleared) back over Swaledale and the route I walked the day before.

I only saw four people the entire walk until I reached Bolton Castle: two hikers setting off out of the hostel at Grinton Lodge, one mad fell runner, and one mountain biker. That was it. Not another soul. Just me and the birds and bees and sheep. Lovely. 

I listened to a podcast - Strangers on a Bench - as I went. Hearing the stories of different people, gave me much to think about as.I walked. And that's part of the reason I like walking solo every now and then. I get time to think and reflect, occasionally ugly cry from the beauty of it all, because I can and there's no-one to see!

After a long walk across the fell, I eventually reached Dent Houses (where the short cut would have arrived at). I have tried to research what these houses were and best guess is old miners' houses. I read one article where the author had spent a cold night in one of the buildings and had a spooky incident, with the sound of a wagon moving outside in the dead of night.. While the location is idyllic and the buildings pretty, I definitely got 'dead people vibes' and was too afraid to go look in the windows. I marched straight up the hill ahead of me instead!

From here it was an easy downhill towards Bolton Castle, an impressive looking ruin, made all the more impressive by having a tea room open on a Monday morning. I scoffed a Cornish pasty before doing the final stretch back towards Aysgarth falls.

​The last few miles always feels the longest and this particular stretch isn't very inspiring. Road walking, farms, fairly dull tracks until you get to the woods along side the falls. They are pretty and provided some cover from the rain as the heavens decided to open with just quarter of a mile to my car. 

And that was it. The Herriot Way done. 

It is a beautiful walk that is relatively easy, unless you're walking during a heat wave! I imagine if you walked it in winter or after weeks of rain, the route would feel very different and boggy in many places!

​There are enough little villages to stop at and get refreshments but accommodation is limited in some places so plan ahead. ​And be aware that it is not way marked so you need either the guide book or the OS Map App. 

If you're a woman who likes to walk - whether alone or with likeminded women, join Glamoraks. It's free and it may lead you to adventures you never knew you were capable of.

It's easy on a rainy Sunday to choose to lie in bed rather than head outdoors. But a walk in the rain is one of life's most beautiful and simple pleasures - particularly if you do it alone. I guarantee that you will return home feeling better than before you went out. Here's how to make it magical:

Keep it simple
Put on a raincoat and a pair of boots. Make sure you're warm enough. But that's about all the preparation you need. No-one cares what you look like in the rain. And that is part of the joy of it. Return looking like.a drowned rat, soaked through with a smile on your face.

Choose a soundtrack
On rainy days, despite loving the sound of nature, I like to walk with gentle classical music playing in my headphones. The volume is soft enough for me to hear the beautiful sounds around me but the music adds a soundtrack that allows me to connect to my emotions more - like having a first glass of wine, everything just goes a little bit softer, gentler and more out of body. I recommend Ludovico Einaudi as the perfect musical score.

Take a closer look
Notice things. Don't just walk blindly. Take your time. Slow your pace. Look at the different shades of green, the contrast of textures underfoot, the symbiotic relationship between plants. Stop and watch the birds, bunnies, squirrels and slugs, all going about their business. 

Touch things.
There are so many amazing textures in a wood - from beautifully striated bark, to downy soft moss, to tickling grasses or prickly conker pods. Stop, take a moment and touch them. Notice what real feels like, not man made, not manufactured. Just beautiful items handcrafted by nature. Revel in how beautiful this planet is. 

Tune in to nature's changing seasons. Spot life's lessons in them
Depending on the time of year you walk, there will always be something that nature is busy doing. Even in the bleak winter months where trees are bare, you'll spot snowdrops fighting their way through. As it is mid summer, I saw the last of the elderflowers, a life lesson right there for any late bloomers amongst us. While the rest of the elderflowers have already fallen away, transforming into berries, those late bloomers now stand out shining brightly against the green. No-one's judging them for being late to the party, they're still just as beautiful having blossomed a bit later than the rest. Let that be a reminder to you that everyone fulfils their potential in their own time.

Or Conkers, those prickly playthings that always hark the impending sense of back to school. Not exactly attractive on the outside, but beneath their gnarly exterior, they are shiny and smooth and provide hours of fun to kids. Don't be too quick to judge. 

Honour the passing of time
Whether it's a 450 year old stately home harking back to a different era, or the magnificence of an oak tree that has clearly been standing tall for a very long time, it's worth reflecting that while seasons come and go, together they add up to years of history. I like to pause and think about that, not just the changes that might have happened since that Oak was a mere acorn, but all the changes that have made me, me. 

I have walked this particularly walk on so many occasions - with my kids when they were little, going swimming in the river, walking and chatting with friends, walking alone - crying -  during very challenging times in my life, power walking to train for an event, walking hand in hand with the person I love. I sometimes wonder if each version of myself left a memory shadow on these paths and they quietly whisper hello as I walk past. If I listen closely enough, I can hear them voice their memories.

Free your mind
Allow your mind to follow free flowing thoughts about everything and nothing. There is no right or wrong way to think. It's simply about being really present in this moment. My imagination comes alive. Instead of trees, I see a cathedral of leaves more spiritual than any church. I see a woodland throne and wonder who might sit on it when the woods come alive at night. I picture fairies dancing on moss. And I ponder why the patterns on the outside of tree bark run up and down while inside its concentric circles.

​When do we ever get time to think such frivolous thoughts? And yet this is how we thought as children, not about mortgages or jobs or relationships, just about the potential for magic all around us. 

Lift your face to the rain, close your eyes and feel the tiny caresses of each drop as it drums on your face. Embrace the wind as it tousles your hair and breathe in gulps of its freshness. This is what it feels like to be alive. To be happy. To be human. To be completely yourself. 

If you haven't taken yourself for a walk recently, do. You'll be so glad you did. 

If you're a woman who loves to walk and want company (on the days you're not taking a rainy walk in solitude), join Glamoraks. Get the app and make new friends.

This walk was at Beningbrough Hall, outside York, a National Trust property and all credit to the grounds team for constantly maintaining the paths and creating gorgeous wooden seating. 

Just about every plan that I made in 2020 was foiled due to Covid. So when I had a long weekend just before Christmas, I cast about looking for somewhere I could go that was also a Tier 2 zone at that time, wasn't the other end of the country and was a multi-day walk that I could return to a base everyday to reduce Covid risks as opposed to staying in multiple places. Oh, and it had to be somewhere I wanted to go.

Norfolk was the answer - the Norfolk Coast Path to be precise.  At the time, it was tier 2 like York, and ticked every other box. I didn't have the time to do all of it as it's 84 miles running from Hunstanton to Hopton-on-Sea, but I did a good chunk. Using the Coasthopper bus, you can pick a base somewhere along the route and always make your way back again. Two points on the bus:

1. Look at the timetables ahead of your walk so you know what time you need to get to the bus stop. They typically run every hour but waiting in the cold isn't fun.
2. The buses run from Hunstanton to Wells-next-the-sea on one loop and then from Wells-next-the-sea to Cromer on a different loop. So if you are walking north of Wells and want to get south of it, you will need to do a bus change. 

I arrived after lunch so couldn't go for a long walk before it got dark, so as I was based in Sheringham, I did the short 4.5 mile walk along the coast to Cromer.  Sheringham has a lovely promenade decorated with an art trail. Seaside scenes are painted along the length of the promenade, creating an outdoor art gallery on one side and beautiful views along the beach and out to sea on the other. The sandy beaches in Norfolk are broken up with groynes (wooden fences that stop beach sand being washed away by long shore drift - I only know this because I once had to help my 10 year old do a geography project and I've always wanted to share that valuable knowledge again).

Anyway, besides row after row of groynes and idyllic views out to sea, with wind farms far offshore, there isn't much of note on this short walk other than Beeston Bump. And here I will quote directly from wikipedia or similar: 'Beeston Bump is a part of Cromer Ridge, a range of low hills left behind when the glaciers retreated at the end of the last Ice Age between 15,000 and 10,000 years ago. The hill was used as the location for a top secret ‘Y’ listening station during World War II and the concrete remains of this can be seen on top of the hill.'

So there you go. You'll also walk past quite a few not very pretty caravan parks and an area of scientific interest where the fossils of an extinct elephant, twice the size of current African elephants, was found. Who knew?!

Cromer itself is a bustling town with a pier, pretty church and plenty of places to get something to eat or drink. However, I caught the bus and returned back to my base as it was getting dark. I had hoped to retrace my steps but I didn't fancy walking through semi-populated caravan parks alone and as much of the path was along a steep cliff edge, that didn't seem sensible to tackle in the dark either. Oh well, I'd make up for mileage on day 2.

Not wanting to get caught out by the lack of light again, i set off early. 7.30am just as the sun was rising - glorious. The early morning walk gave beautiful views once again along a cliff top. The path then drops down onto a pebbly beach and despite having the beach to myself - bar some anglers early on - it was tough going. Walking on pebbles kills the ankles but the serenity made it worth while. I sat on the beach having a coffee and watched a seal frolic in the sea in front of me - magic! Slightly less magic was the series of military buildings that run above the beach with large guns pointing out to sea and a weird beeping noise coming from somewhere.....

I left that behind and made my way along the beach, with military buildings being replaced by marshland, a bird watcher's paradise. And indeed I saw many of those. I felt rather out of place not wearing green camo and without a long lens camera to hand. But the twitchers were having a fine morning admiring the birds. 

I made my way to Cley-next-the-sea that has a rather marvellous windmill and an even more marvellous coffee shop that sold giant scones and very good cappuccinos. Having refuelled, I set off again following the river Glaven out to sea before the path wove itself in and around marshland until Blakeney.  From there, more marshland which at times looked like a boat cemetery teaming with birds. 

A handy sign saying Coasthopper showed me where to head up towards Stiffkey (pronounced Stookey just to fool people). I had really wanted to continue onto to Wells-next-the-Sea and I had daylight, just. But I no longer had phone battery and didn't want to get lost out on the marshes without it. So I headed into Stiffkey and passed the time waiting for the bus in the Stiffkey stores, which are definitely worth a visit. Lovely gift shop and I could have bought myself many Christmas presents had I had a bigger backpack. They also sell coffee! 

The bus stop is right outside the store, making it easy to get home. 

This was a very, very wet day. Torrential rain and wind that blew it sideways into my face - but that's the kind of walking that makes you feel alive. While I really wanted to walk that missing gap between Stiffkey and Wells, as the buses require a change at Wells, I decided it would have to be missed. I drove to Wells instead, parked on the quay side, got a coffee to stave off the cold and headed off. 

From the quayside, there is a long walk along a causeway down to the sea. When you get there, instead of heading onto the beach, you follow a woodland path that runs behind the sand dunes. It's pretty and peaceful but I wanted to see the sea. At last, you pop out at Holkham Gap (incidentlly there is a visitor centre here and loo.....because you know, the coffee you started out with.) And here you at last walk along the beach with views out to sea. You can also walk along more forest, just as pretty but I wanted to feel the wild sea wind blowing my face off. You track this section for what feels like a long time, with the scenery changing again, this time grass covered dunes. I was entirely alone in amongst them and felt like I was the last person on the planet. No pandemic or risk of infection - just me. Alone. 

After stopping for a little rest on the beach, I trekked along a raised dyke across marshland, with plenty of birds to look at as I went. I arrived at Burnham Overy Staithe and was tempted to call it a day due to just how wet it was. My waterproofing had given up and was now causing seepage. But I hadn't travelled to Norfolk to give up because I was damp. 

I soldiered on. I almost immediately regretted that decision. The bit from Burnham Overy Staithe to Burnham Deepdale is a long, long, long trek across marshland where there is very little to see in any direction. In fact I'd go so far as to say it felt a bit scary being quite so stuck out in the marshes miles from everyone. I know in reality it wasn't that far away, but it felt it. What made it worse was the mud. Every step taken forward meant a half step slide back or sideways. It was an epic work out, particularly when I realised that I had just 40 minutes to make the next bus or have to wait in the rain a full hour for the next. So I attempted to run. You try running in heavy boots on slippery mud....

Anyway, I made it with five minutes to spare looking like a drowned rat. I caught the bus back to Wells, got my car and got back to my base to heat through. 

I had hoped to walk from Burnham Deepdale to Hunstanton, the last bit of 10 miles, but I had to get back and be a mother. I did however drive the route and a lot of it looked similar to the marshlands of the day prior, so I felt I'd seen enough of that for a while.

In short, it was a lovely mini multi-day walk with scenery that really does change every few milies. Who knew there were so many different types of shore lines? I do now. 

If you would like to do a walk like this but want company, join the Glamoraks App or Facebook group (it's free) and find like-minded women to walk with. 

In late August/early September 2020 I was meant to do the Tour du Mont Blanc. But the global pandemic had other plans. With time off work and in need of an adventure, I decided to walk the Northumberland Coast Path solo, carrying what I needed on my back. I didn't fancy camping and lugging all that kit with me, opting for any available accommodation. This proved tricky as accommodation was in very short supply and so I couldn't follow the itinerary suggested by the official route. 

The Northumberland Coastal path runs from Cresswell in the south up to Berwick-on-Tweed in the north, a total of 62 miles or 100km of coastal walking, littered with castles and history. If you've never been to Northumberland. then you need to add it to your list of places to go. It is jaw-droppingly beautiful with plenty of little coastal villages to explore or take refuge in when in need of tea/cake/chips/wine. And given some of the weather I faced, refuge was certainly needed at times.

I decided to tag a bit onto the beginning, by starting at Newbiggin-on-Sea to enjoy the newly created stretch of the England Coast Path route.

Getting there:
The East Coast Main line runs up and down from London to Edinburgh. The closest train stop to Cresswell or Newbiggin is Morpeth. From there I took a taxi to Newbiggin, which meant I started walking at about 11am. You can catch a return train home from Berwick-on-Tweed. 

Frankly I'm not sure why I decided to add the extra miles on as Newbiggin-on-Sea isn't going to win any prizes in a beauty contest. It was a grey day and a bit of a plod to start along an urban seafront and past a not very attractive power plant. But the path was clearly signposted with new England Coast path signs and I was pleased to be walking a stretch of this newly created route. Once I reached Cresswell and officially picked up the Northumberland Coast path, the scenery improve massively. The path stretched for miles along stunning Druridge Bay, with gorgeous sand dunes and a nature reserve just inland. Approaching Amble, you will see Coquet Island out to sea, an RSPB nature reserve, housing a monastic cell and medieval tower. I like little bits of history along the way.

​I arrived at Amble with sore feet unused to walking 14 miles, a lot of which was on sand. Amble has a busy quay with little shops and spots to get something to eat. Sadly, the only place available for me to stay - the Amble Inn - was another mile out of town. I was very pleased to have my comfy bed and tasty food when I got there. 

I had a lot of miles to cover this day and the forecast was WINDY! But it promised two spectacular castles and stunning scenery so I was up for the challenge. After a hearty breakfast, I headed back into the heart of Amble and out the other side, walking alongside Warkworth harbour before climbing the hill into Warkworth. Atop the hill sits Warkworth castle, one of the few Northumbrian castles I hadn't previously visited. I didn't have time to go in but gave it a wave before walking through the very pretty village of Warkworth with its even prettier bridge, which spans River Coquet. From there it was miles of gorgeous sand dunes (the path itself running behind the dunes so wasn't heavy going underfoot). I had to play dodgems with flying golf balls as links courses dot the path. There are handy bells to ring to let golfers know that you're passing through. 

I then reached the River Aln and the lovely village of Almouth. I stopped for a bite of lunch at the Alnmouth Village Golf Club (the oldest links golf club in England) where I was the youngest person by about 50 years. But they did a good sandwich and they had a loo and everyone wanted to know where I was walking to. From there I had to climb a hill above the golf course, and kept following the coastal path until it dropped down to the sea. The walking got tough for a while as it was a pebbly beach, which hurts the ankles but the scenery made up for it. 

The wind picked up as I headed along a long cycle path towards Boulmer and then even windier as I walked along the path overlooking wild seas crashing on rocks as I headed for Craster, famous for its smoked kippers. By the time I reached the Jolly Fisherman Pub, I was very ready to rest my feet. By chance I bumped into friends there so had a welcome catch up in the sun before tackling the last 4 miles.

The walk from Craster to Dunstanburgh Castle is one of my absolute favourites and if you're ever after a short day walk, add this one to your list. I however, had to walk past the castle, making sure I took in the backwards facing views and did my final push to Embleton. I stayed at The Dunstanburgh Castle Hotel, but frankly I could have been staying under a hedge. I simply wanted to put my feet up after a very long, windy but utterly gorgeous 18 odd miles. 

While a significantly shorter day, this day was still quite hard going for two reasons. 1) The weather 2) a long stretch of roadside plodding. 

It starts with some of the most stunning scenery of the entire walk along Embleton Bay, with views back over Dunstanburgh Castle. Little seaside cottages dot the dunes and I would very much like to have one of those.  The route then followed another links golf course running next to Beadnell Bay. The wind had again picked up at this point and by the time I hit Beadnell, the rain arrived. Sadly, the stretch from Beadnell to Seahouses is a long tarmac plod alongside a busy road. I was sorely tempted to stick out my thumb and ask for a lift. I didn't and instead fought my way against the gale and face-on rain until I arrived in Seahouses, where I collapsed in a seaside pub and watched the rain beat against the windows. 

After psyching myself up, I did the last push from Seahouses to Bamburgh, which veers away from the sea and crosses fields, which included a field of bullocks. Sigh. The adrenalin got me across that field and views of Bamburgh Castle gave me my point of reference to work towards. I could have walked along the beach if I'd wanted to - and you could do this although it is not technically the coast path route. I didn't because walking on sand is very tiring and the wind was so fierce, the sand would have taken the top layer of skin off my face, and I was looking haggard enough.

Anyway, after reviving myself at the Victoria Hotel, I headed out in flip flops to air my feet and strolled around the beach near the castle. If you've never visited Bamburgh Castle, add it to your list. It looks exactly like a castle from story books and you couldn't get a better setting.

​Once my feet were frozen lumps of ice, i headed back and had a large glass or two of wine. 

If I'm completely honest, you could probably just do those first three days to get the highlights of the Northumberland Coast Path as day 4 was a bit 'meh'. Technically I should have gone all the way to Holy Island to see Lindisfarne castle but the way the available accommodation worked out, it wasn't an option for me. Plus, if you go to Lindisfarne, you have to time it right to ensure you can walk across the causeway before the tide rolls in, otherwise you will find yourself having a swim instead of a walk.

I didn't have to worry about that, I simply had to walk 14 miles. The wind and rain of the last two days had been replaced with blazing sunshine. Glorious. Except today was a hilly day, inland, not much shade....did I mention the wine from the night before? 

It starts off beautifully with views back towards Bamburgh Castle before taking in the stunning Budle Bay. Lovely. And then after climbing a hill, do a bit of road walking, pick up St Oswald;s way, you arrive at an intercity railway line that you have to cross. That's exciting! There's a telephone you have to use to call the signalman. He'll want to know how many are in your party and how long you estimate it will take you to cross the line. He then lets you know how long you've got before the next train comes barrelling along at 100 miles an hour. Despite having five minutes to make a 30 second journey, it still makes your heart thump. Luckily I'd had a little rest in a grassy field just before this, watching the butterflies flutter about while I aired my feet and rehydrated my body.

After the railway line excitement, you walk past weird, slightly spooky silos before reaching the village of Belford. Here I stocked up on a nutritious lunch of a scotch egg and can of soda from the Coop, before continuing on. After the beauty of the coastline, this all felt a big dull until getting to some woods, which were both pretty and cool respite from the sun. 

Out the other side of the woods is a tiny village called Fenwick, which had I been going to Lindisfarne, i would have passed through, crossed the A1 and headed off on my pilgrimage like so many other pilgrims before me. But alas, the only accommodation I could find was in West Mains, which meant a trudge along a tarmac road, another interesting crossing (this time the busy A1) and then at last found my accommodation at the Lindisfarne Inn.  This was definitely my least favourite day on the walk. 

Another gloriously sunny day and I was up and out early. Despite tired legs and feet, I was ready to take on the last day of this walk. From West Mains, I dropped down to the coast line, picking up the coast path again at Beal Point, looking out over the causeway to Holy Island. From there it is a straight forward, relatively flat, easy walking stretch of beautiful coastline. I even managed to get an ice cream from a van along the way. Perfection!

I arrived into Berwick-on-Tweed way too early for my departing train, so I stopped on the promenade for some obligatory chips. Sitting with my boots off, my feet in the sea breeze, eating hot chips and smelling the sea air, I mentally high-fived myself for doing the 70 miles. What a lovely, leisurely (at times tiring) but beautiful walk. There is something about coastal walking that just releases tension, letting all your worries blow out to sea. 

I reluctantly put my boots on, headed across the old bridge into the town, taking in the views from the old Elizabethan walls that prevented the Scots from invading the town, a nice extra bit of history before finally catching my train back to York. 

In contrast to some of the more remote and hilly long distance paths, the Northumberland Coast Path is relatively easy. That said, 70 miles is still 70 miles and lots of it is on sand, some pebbles and some roadside, so don't underestimate it. But the incredible beaches and fairytale castles will keep you going. I highly recommend it!

​And if you're looking for company to do it with, join the Glamoraks app or Glamoraks Facebook group and find like-minded women to go walking with. 

Sometimes you need to walk in a group. Sometimes you just need to escape and spend time with your thoughts. That's where I was recently. I had four days off and wanted somewhere I could walk safely but entirely alone, that wouldn't be crowded, would have a few hills, somewhere for me to stay and was easy for me to get to from York. I considered to stretches of the Cleveland Way, but it can be tricky finding accommodation on the route and public transport options aren't great depending on where you start and finish. 

Then I remembered the Esk Valley Walk, something I'd been wanting to do for a while.  As described by the North Yorkshire Moors website: The 37-mile (60km) walk follows the River Esk from its source high on the North York Moors to the coast at Whitby. It’s marked by a special waymark with a leaping salmon – yellow arrows mean a footpath and blue denotes a bridleway.  

The best thing about the walk is that it is served by the Esk Valley Railway line, which means you can leave your car at one end and be able to get back to it at the end. 

Unlike the suggested itinerary, I did it in reverse and actually decided to abandon the last part of the walk in favour of some self-navigation. Here's what I did:

This is an easy, short day which is good for day 1 as it gives you time to get to the start. I parked at the Long Stay carpark in Whitby down by the marina. It's not cheap at £9.40 a day, but it meant I could top up my daily parking from the Ringo app every day and it felt safe. What's more, the carpark is literally the start of the walk. 

I plotted my route in advance using the OS Map app, which I would highly recommend you get. Worth every penny. While the walk is signposted with little leaping salmon symbols, they are not posted at every point where you might need a sign. I found myself referring to my map quite often. 

The walk follows the River Esk reasonably closely and on day 1 you will find yourself zig zagging across the river and the railway line repeatedly. There are plenty of bridges to appreciate pretty river views and a number of places you have to cross the railway tracks directly, keeping an eye and ear out for trains. But they're not all that frequent! If you're lucky, you will get to see and hear the steam trains chugging along the North Yorkshire Moors Railway. There are enough little hills to make you work up a sweat, particularly if you're carrying a backpack. But in general it is an easy, pretty walk to ease you into the rhythm of walking. Expect fields, sheep, rivers, bridges and railway lines. 

I got to Grosmont faster than expected and had a room booked at the gorgeous Grosmont House B&B. it was bliss to be able to lie on my comfy bed, with the rain coming down outside, reading a book and just enjoying putting my feet up. Dinner at the Station Tavern next door was good and filling. I had wanted to go to the Steam Cafe for one of their pizzas which are apparently very good, but they only serve those on the weekends. 

After a lovely breakfast at the B&B, I headed off into the rain. The first part of the walk is flat and easy, along a broad track which still criss crosses the river and railway, but it's gentle and serene start to the day. Egton Bridge is ridiculously pretty and you can wave hello to the Alpacas (or Llamas - I can never tell the difference) at Egton Manor. 

Once you've gone through Egton Manor there is a short sharp climb up to East Arncliffe Wood, but the woods are magical. Take your time here and simply enjoy the mossy rocks, tree canopy and the mulchy smell of old wood giving life to new plants. 

You pop out at Glaisdale. Be sure to take a quick peek at Beggar's Bridge near the railway line before continuing on through more woods and fields. You could stop for a snack or lunch at the Arncliffe Arms in Glaisdale, but I opted for a picnic next to the river closer to Leaholm. There are public toilets right on the path at Leaholm (top tips for all of you like me who like to know where to go!)

You then climb steeply up and out of Leaholm, up and across Leaholm Moor to Danby Beacon, where you get fabulous views out towards the sea in one direction and across moorland and valleys in the other. Once you've had your fill, you can wind your way down, eventually passing the Moors National Park centre and into Danby.

I stayed at the Duke of Wellington Pub. It's a great pub but be warned, the rooms are not very sound proof so if you have a room at the front like I did, you will be able to hear everyone enjoying their drinks until closing time. No problem if you're joining them, more of a problem if you want to sleep. 

After two days of rivers, railways and valleys, the wildness of the moors was calling. A brief woodland walk through Danby Park, a final railway crossing at Castleton and then the start of the climb up the moors. I somehow managed to lose my way three times early on - possibly because there weren't many leaping salmon fish signs and possibly because I wasn't concentrating. However I soon got on track. 

It felt like the moors were teasing me a bit. There'd be a climb, some heather, the sense that the moors were just there, and then the moorland path would turn into a farm track and down we'd go again. At one point I managed to walk right through someone's garden before I realised the error of my ways. Luckily a lovely young chap whose garden it was pointed me in the right direction. 

My path was still tracking along the river although it gradually fell away as I gained height. But the path became seriously boggy, overgrown and hard to navigate. So much so that I eventually decided it was time for a rest. Lying down in the sunshine listening to the noise of the birds, water trickling from somewhere and insects buzzing was lovely. Just me and nature and not another soul.

I eventually roused myself and carried on the climb. The path cleared and finally, a track took me to the top of Farndale Moor. The wind was blowing and the expanse of open moorland with no-one else there was jaw-dropping. I let all the emotional stuff I'd been carrying in side me out, free to blow on the wind. It was the best therapy ever. 

After taking my time to enjoy the view over Farndale, I followed the broad track to the famous Lion Inn at Blakey. Anyone who has done the Coast to Coast will be familiar with this spot - an oasis after miles of desolation. It's where I spent my night. Food portions are huge and tasty. The rooms are always too hot. But I still slept like a log. 

Now if you want to complete the Esk Valley Walk, you follow the route in the image below (click it to get the route).

I, however, decided I wanted more moorland and wanted to test my ability to plot a route and navigate it. I plotted a route the went from Blakey to Glaisdale via Rosedale - the plan was to go down into Rosedale Valley and up the other side. But in the morning I didn't feel like adding in a big fat hill for the sake of it, so I didn't quite follow my own route. Instead I followed the old mining railway line around the top of Rosedale and then at the junction where you could turn downhill and go to Rosedale Head Farm, I followed a path up to the top of Rosedale Moor. 

Here I discovered that the path that was shown on the map obviously wasn't very well used and there was no path. I had to make my way across boggy bits and heather for quite a while, constantly checking the OS Map app to ensure I was going in the right direction. At last I came to a road, crossed that and could then follow the George Gap Causeway across the top of Rosedale Moor. It was beautiful, wild and remote and a bit of the moors I'd never been to. 

As the path curves, you lose sight of where you've been and the sea opens up ahead in the distance. You follow a broad, rough path with lovely views over Great Fryup Dale for a while. Then a bit of road walking, before I picked up the Glaisdale Rigg path which gradually headed downhill to Glaisdale. I was easily done by early afternoon despite having stopped for another rest to just enjoy the scenery. The Esk Valley Railway train service wasn't due for some time, so I called a taxi from Whitby and got a much faster ride back to my car.

It was a briliiant four days of solo walking, a tiny micro-adventure. You could easily compress it into 3 days if time is short. Definitely one to add to your list. 

I'd been meaning to do this walk ever since I saw it written up on the YHA website. So when I had a free Easter weekend - forecast to be brilliantly sunny - it seemed like the perfect opportunity to tick it off my list. 

Here's what you'll need to do the walk:
Ordnance Survey maps OL24 and OL1, covering the white and dark peak areas of Derbyshire, UK respectively. 

Pre-booked beds at the three hostels (YHA Ravenstor, YHA Eyam, YHA Castleton)
​
A small pack with enough clothes and kit for three days. Don't worry about snacks - there are plenty of places en route

We arrived on Good Friday in the evening. Ravenstor Youth Hostel is conveniently situated just 10 minutes walk along a beautiful river from The Angler's Rest Pub in Miller Dale. Outside tables mean you can watch the river flow past on a sunny day or head indoors for a hearty dinner when it gets chilly. Huge portions and friendly staff made for a fabulous start to our three day adventure.

After a good night's sleep in a three bed private room, and a hearty hostel breakfast, we headed off leaving our cars parked at the hostel. 

A path leading directly from the hostel down to the river makes an easy start. Turn left as you hit the riverside path and simply follow it until you reach Cressbrook. It's a gorgeous stroll between two towering valley walls made of limestone, where crazy climbers attempt to scale the cliffs. 

At Cressbrook, turn left up the road, taking the right hand fork and follow it until a track off to the right leads you down to Ravensdale Cottages. The gorgeousness continues as you follow the length Cressbrook Dale, following signs for The Golden Miles fundraising walk. You go through bluebell woods and follow the valley, again hills to either side hemming you in.

You pop out on the busy A623. The shock of having people and traffic is a little jarring after the peace of the valley, but the fact that the Yondermann Cafe is there, provides a good place to stop for a toilet break and a snack. We opted for a second breakfast of hot waffles with vanilla ice cream because why the hell not? 

We really didn't have very far to walk on day one, so we took our time before setting off across fields, past Sillydale - where we were silly - and marvelling at the range of stone styles we kept arriving at, including some designed for very skinny people to squeeze through. Bear this in mind when eating your waffles....

We soon found ourselves in the idyllic little village of Foolow with a fine pub - The Bulls Head in - where we really weren't hungry enough for lunch but felt it rude not to have something. And so we did, including a pint of cold lager as it was a very hot day.

Having done almost more eating than walking, we decided we'd find a shady wall in a field to have a post lunch nap in., which we duly did.

Until this point, the walk had been entirely not taxing, a stroll more than a hike. We headed into the historic village of Eyam. We hadn't quite read up on the history before arriving. At the first house we passed we saw a sign outside it saying something like: 16 people lived here, they all died. It was dated from the 1600s and I thought, no kidding they all died. If they hadn't they'd be super old by now. 

But then we passed a house called the plague house and it too had a morbid sign outside saying how many people in the household had died. And so it went on. Turns out that the plague was brought to Eyam by a bale of cloth brought from London in 1665. Fleas carrying bubonic plague were in the cloth. People rapidly fell ill and in a remarkable act of bravery, the village decided to quarantine itself so that the plague couldn't spread to surrounding villages. In total 280 people died, but their quarantining efforts worked and the plague didn't spread. One resident - Elizabeth Hancock - had to bury her six children and her husband in the space of a week. Imagine that?!

So that was the cheery story of Eyam. We set off out of the village with the intention of finding the hostel, but somehow missed the path and ended up climbing up a big hill to see the Riley Graves, where the aforementioned Elizabeth Hancock had buried her family.  It was sobering to see it, but hadn't actually been on our planned route. 

We retraced our steps and with the help of a friendly local, found the correct path up another steep hill to find Eyam hostel. So despite not having to walk more than 14km, it felt a lot longer after our hilly diversion late in the day.

A dinner of pizza at the hostel, some wine and some competitive games of Yahztee and we were soon ready for our beds, this time in a shared dorm.

Day 2 and another full English hostel breakfast and we were ready to tackle the longest of the three days. It immediately started with a hill, a long climb up to the top of Eyam Moor. A memory bench perfectly placed to take in the view was made even more memorable when a group of fell runners came up to us and asked if we'd take their picture with the bench. In the group was the widow of the man the bench was dedicated too. It was very moving seeing them out doing something he obviously loved, in his memory. That led to a long chat about where we might like to have our memory benches situated.

The runners quickly left us in their wake, while we walked down to Highlow Brook, a more idyllic spot you couldn't find. A bubbling stream to cool our hot feet in, bluebells, skylarks, warm sunshine. We probably could have sat there for the rest of the day. But we continued on up another big hill past plenty of sheep and their bouncy lambs to Highlow Hall. Crossing over the road at the hall, we then followed a farm track for a good distance, taking in views of Stanage Edge to our right. At Offerton House, there was a tempting route to follow the ridge line of Offerton Moor, but our path was down the hill to follow the track alongside the River Derwent. 

It is safe to say that by this point it was almost lunch time, exceptionally hot and discussion was had about shortening our walk and follow a more direct path to Hope and the promised beer festival. But the gods were smiling on us by ensuring there was no riverside path for us to follow once we reached the A1687, so the decision to bottle it was removed as an option. We briefly chatted about catching the bus to Hope instead, but I'm so pleased we braved the heat and continued on because what was in store was definitely worth it.

If you are doing this walk, there is a garden centre over the road which has toilets and a handy cafe, the perfect place to pick up a sandwich and cold drink as there is nowhere else to get supplies until you reach Hope. I suggest replenishing your water here if it's a hot day because you have a BIG climb ahead of you.

Walking beneath the railway line, we quickly picked up the Thornhill Trail, a long flat walking and cycle trail along a disused railway line. The going was easy and allowed us to eat our sandwiches. If you kept going along the path, you'd reach the Ladybower Reservoir, but we turned left up something called Parkin Clough. If you're using walking poles, now is the time to get them out. You climb approximately 460 metres in height in less than a kilometre. It is steep but beautiful, as you climb a gorge and try to remember to breath.  At last the gorge spreads out into the base of a hill and you still have more climbing to go until at last you reach the top of Win Hill. From there the 360 degree views are jaw dropping, taking in Ladybower Reservoir, Hope Valley, Edale Valley, Lose Hill, Mam Tor, Rushup Edge and the Kinder Scout Horseshoe. They say the climb is always worth the views from the top - and that is very much the case here.

But the views from the top made it worth it!

Our final morning and we decided to skip the hostel breakfast and find somewhere in Castleton for something a bit different. As it turns out, we were up earlier than anyone else in Castleton and everything was closed except for the most excellent Peveril Stores and bakery. We'd discovered this little gem on a previous visit. We bought sausage rolls for our lunch as there is nowhere en route to get anything on day 3, plus bacon butties and hot coffees, which we ate while sitting on a bench opposite the shop. It handily had public loos next door, so once fed and abluted, we headed off.

You head into the middle of Castleton and follow the sign for Cave Dale. Immediately you are enclosed in a stunning gorge that is littered with caves beneath it. To your right, you can see the remains of Peveril Castle including the garderobe (the castle loo). I imagine Cave Dale is a lot nicer now without having raw sewage flowing down it unlike in days past. 

The climb up through the gorge, was tiring, yet so beautiful we barely noticed the ascent. At the top, we simply followed the signs for the Limestone way across the top, before gradually descending to the first of three back-to-back dales, each distinctly different in look and feel to each other. 

Hay Dale was first, with mini cliffs and a gentle hobbit like feel. Next came Peter Dale, a broader, green and lush valley edged with high cliffs. Last came Monks Dale. This was an overgrown, jungly affair, with high temperatures and a sense that it might never end. If I did it again, I'd skip Monks Dale and stick to the Limestone Way, which means another hill climb, but that is no doubt easier than the rocky path we had to follow. 

Just as our sense of humour was waning, Millers Dale and the Anglers Rest pub hove into view. One more short push back to the hostel alongside the river and we were done. Having reclaimed our cars, we returned to the Angler's Arms for a final cold drink before bidding each other farewell and making our way home to our various parts of the country. 

It was a fantastic walk totalling about 50km (30 miles) which is very doable over three days. Do count on some steep hill climbs but you will be rewarded with gorgeous views. And frankly, if you ate and drank as much as we did, you'll need those hills to burn off the calories.

Three night's accommodation cost £75. Hostel breakfasts are £6.75 and if you go for their supper club option (a main and a pudding) it costs £9.99. Do add in some pennies for all the lovely places to stop and get drinks and snacks. 

If you have a subscription to OS maps online, you can download the rough route I plotted here for:
Day 1
Day 2
Day 3

Today is International Day of Happiness. And as the Glamoraks mission is to make women happier one step at a time, I thought I'd find out whether it was just me that felt happy when they went walking. 

Nope. Not just me. Watch the video to see the smiling faces of our members from around the world plus their reasons that walking makes them happy. 

But I also did a snap survey to find out a bit more, to dig slightly deeper. And here's what I found:

So there you have it. Walking definitely makes people happier. That happiness can last a few hours or a few days. It helps with a myriad of emotions and mental health issues. As long as there is open space, fresh air and peace, people don't really mind where they walk. Urban environments and park being the one that didn't get any votes. And it seems most people don't mind who they walk with - just as long as they can get out there!

I asked for a statement to describe why walking makes them happy. I couldn't include them all but this is what they said:

• It makes me feel alive
  
• Freedom from all worries - there's nothing more to be done
  
• I can do it when I can't do anything else in my head
  
• Moving the body, getting out of the wild mind.
  
• Getting back to nature. Living in the now.
  
• The fresh air, clears your mind and moving just releases tension and depression.
  
• It helps minimise the niggles and dramas that get in life's way
  
• It makes me feel free.
  
• It's like a mood reboot
  
• Fresh air and ‘groundedness’ at one with the world
  
• The freedom and seeing the wildlife and it helps you appreciate life.
  
• It’s just me and nature and none of the daily grind is there.
  
• I just love being outside in the fresh air, and seeing nature
  
• It’s the only time I feel myself. Disconnected from everything
  
• Gives me space to think and opens my mind to new options / thoughts. Time spent with my partner to asses and plan our lives.
• Walking can change your mood as soon as you get out of the car even if its muddy and wet!
  
• Peace and quiet
  
• Walking makes me happy as it gives me a sense of freedom, time to think and work through things.
  
• Fresh air and exercise
  
• Fresh air and open space are key to helping with my anxiety, plus gentle exercise boosts my mood.
  
• Being outdoors and in the fresh air gives me time to think, connect with nature and enjoy the environment.
  
• It clears my mind of chatter
  
• I love being outdoors and walking makes me feel free. I particularly enjoy walking with my camera because I’m totally in the moment - it’s the best form of mindfulness there is!
  
• The smells, the sound of nature, and pretty things to see. It makes me appreciate life and beauty of the natural world
  
• Every time I see something that makes me smile, today it was the first burst of bluebells
  
• I can immerse myself in nature and forget the rest of the world
  
• I like the realness - being in the elements
  
• Because nature is curative - balm to the soul, it is simple, seasonal, majestic, beautiful, awesome sights - it’s rhythm of moving is mindful / all’s right with the world on a walk Solvitur Ambulando
  
• Escape from the norm, exercise, nature, fresh air, time to slow down and appreciate surroundings.
  
• I can tune into my body, observe my tendencies and how I feel, use slow, meditative walking. Tune into my breathing that helps me relax, feel in tune with the elements and the landscape around me.
  
• Usually it’s the social company + exercise that improves my mood. Sense of joint accomplishment is also nice.
  
• Fresh air, sun and gentle exercise.
  
• Just gets away from life
  
• It clears the mind.
  
• I physically feel the stresses of the day lift from my shoulders, my mind becomes clearer, the thoughs buzzing through my head at a million miles an hour slow and become quieter, my joints hurt less, I’m fitter and healthier- fewer coughs and colds. Whichever way you look at it - it makes me happy!
  

If you would like to feel these benefits too, join Glamoraks today. It's free. It will absolutely make you happier. It may just change your life.

I've just returned from a lovely 7.5 mile walk starting at Cod Beck Reservoir, tracking through Osmotherley and along a stretch of the Cleveland Way in the North Yorkshire Moors.  I haven't been on many walks recently. My personal life has been somewhat fraught/busy/overwhelming for the last few months, so walking had to take a back seat. 

But today I had a free day. No kids. No commitments. And yes there were household jobs to do - when aren't there? - but I decided to prioritise time for me.

Luckily, a Glamoraks member had planned a walk for today. That's how Glamoraks works. Someone decides that they want to do a walk and they choose a route. They share it in the group and/or the Facebook page and other people can decide to join them. You can search for members or walks near you too (and we have members all over the world.)

​For many people, coming on one of these walks is daunting. They don't know anyone and as with any new situation, meeting new people and trying new things can feel scary. But as the ladies on the walk today can testify, there is absolutely no reason for nerves. 

We are women with completely different stories and backgrounds. Yet we all love the same thing - getting outside in the fresh air and having a good long stomp. Now had this walk not been set up today, I would have gone on my own (although it would have been easier to cry off and binge watch Game of Thrones), but for many others, they would prefer not to be alone out on a remote path.

Many don't feel brave enough to be the walk organiser, but once they've been on one, realise that actually it's not that scary either. No-one expects you to be a qualified walker. It's ok if we get lost. Or it's muddy. Or we want to change course. Or stop for tea. We're just grateful that someone has encouraged us to get out there.

The sun was getting low in the sky, early afternoon on a mild November day. Beams of sunlight turned everything they touched to gold. To my right, the Atlantic ocean lazily lolled, barely breaking against craggy rocks far below. To my left, a green field dotted with sheep was a picture of tranquility. Ahead of me, two woman in my walking group were striding onwards, while behind me the rest of the group chatted quietly. 

I walked alone, taking the chance to simply be, breathing in the sea air and enjoying the crunch of my boots on the path.

And that's when it happened. So subtle, so instant it would have been easy to miss. But I felt it.

I had set it down. The weight I hadn't realised I was carrying.

I didn't do it intentionally. It made no noise as it left me. There was no photograph to capture the moment. It simply slipped off me. My backpack was still firmly attached to my body, yet it felt somehow lighter, as though large boulders had been removed from it. More than that, my head felt clearer, the dark cobwebs that had been clogging up the edges of my thoughts suddenly swept out.

A smile began to unconsciously form on my face. The furrows on my brow relaxed. I breathed deeply and sighed out loudly.  Light, free, happy. The mental burden of worry, guilt, sadness, anger and stress had gently worked its way loose and fallen off me noiselessly, dissipating into nothingness.

I had set the weight down on a path on Northern Ireland's coast. I have set the same weight down on remote paths and deserted beaches around the world. It's what walking does. Every step works a tightly knotted concern loose. Our deeply buried worries and fears gradually free themselves from their trapped places, losing their poisonous power as they do so. 

Every walk has a drop off moment. Sometimes it's mere minutes into a walk. On others, it is many miles before the moment happens. But it will happen. And when it does, you can move forward lighter, freer and happier. 

It's time to set your weight down.

Join Glamoraks, a community of women who love to walk. We'll help you do it.