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Maps, Mud and Second Chances: How I Found My Life Outside

  Maps, Mud and Second Chances: How I Found My Life Outside   Childhood and the small town that shaped me I grew up in a town that smelled faintly of industry and boiled cabbage, the kind of place where the hills were something you read about in postcards and the sea was a two‑week holiday in a caravan with a kettle that never boiled properly. My earliest adventures were modest: cycling to school, cycling to friends’ houses, the small, private triumph of getting there before the rain. That was the limit of it for a long time; not for lack of wanting, but because wanting and doing are different things, and the world I knew had a timetable and a budget and a sensible idea of what weekends were for. There’s a particular kind of contentment in those small routines. You learn the lay of a place by the way the light hits the chip shop at five in the afternoon, by the way the bus driver nods when you get on, by the way the river smells in spring. It’s ordinary, and ordinary i...
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You are never to old for a new adventure

Top of Newlands pass on Fred Whitton challenge

 

New Year, New Trailhead, Welcome to 2026

The calendar flips and, like clockwork, my head fills with maps, half‑baked plans and the kind of daydreams that make the kettle boil twice. I’m starting this blog because the itch to go somewhere, properly go somewhere, not just scroll about it, has never left me. If you’ve ever felt that tug at the back of your neck when a path appears on a map, or when a bike tyre hums a little truer on a quiet road, you’re in the right place.

This isn’t a brag book of impossible feats. It’s a notebook passed around a pub table: honest, occasionally clumsy, often useful, and sometimes funny in a way that only comes from getting cold, wet and then warm again. I want to nudge you into making your own adventures happen, whether that’s a day walk, a weekend bike jaunt, or a proper trip that takes planning, patience and a good pair of socks.

Why this blog exists

To inspire, not intimidate. Adventures don’t have to be heroic to be worth having. They just have to be yours. I’ll share the bits that matter, the planning that saves you grief, the kit that actually works, the mistakes that teach you more than the successes, and the stories that make the whole thing worthwhile.

To pass on what I’ve learned. Over the years I’ve picked up a few qualifications and a lot of common sense: mountain leader, mountain bike guide, RYA Coastal Skipper (yes, I only sail about once a decade, but when I do, it’s glorious). I’ll pass on tips for walking, riding and the odd bit of sailing, all written for people who want to get out there without making every trip a drama.

About me

I’m 66. I started properly getting into the outdoors in my 40s, which is to say I’m living proof that it’s never too late to begin. I favour journeys over speed, the slow, steady kind that lets you notice the light on a ridge, the way a river sounds, or the small kindness of a stranger with a spare inner tube. That said, everyone has their own pace, and I’ll cheer on the sprinters as much as the dawdlers.

I’m practical, a little opinionated about kit, and fond of a good cup of tea (or wee dram of Glengoyne) at the end of a long day. I’ll be candid about what works and what doesn’t, and I’ll tell the stories that make the lessons stick.

What I’ll be writing about

  • Previous Trip reports and tales: Cycling the Southern Upland Way; hiking Laugavegur and Fimmvörðuháls in Iceland; sailing the Lofoten Islands; walking the West Highland Way; cycling the Outer Hebrides and the NC500. Expect the good bits, the awkward bits, and the moments that make you grin when you think back on them.
  • Practical how‑tos: Route planning that doesn’t overcomplicate things; waterproofs that actually keep you dry; navigation tips that don’t require a PhD; emergency repairs that get you home; and kit lists that balance comfort with common sense.
  • Skills and backstory: How I became a mountain leader and a mountain bike leader, how I learned navigation, and why I only really found my feet in the outdoors later in life. These posts will be part memoir, part instruction manual, and part encouragement.
  • 2026 bikepacking project: This is the big one for next year. I’ll document building the ideal bike, choosing routes, testing kit, and the actual rides themselves — the planning, the doubts, the triumphs and the inevitable flat tyres.

How I’ll write

Plainly. With a bit of humour. With the odd swear when a chain snaps at the worst possible moment. With photos and maps where they help, and with lists and checkboxes for the things you’ll want to copy. I’ll be honest about the bits I get wrong, because those are the bits you learn from, and I’ll celebrate the small victories that make an adventure feel like an adventure.

Join me on the road

Subscribe if you want to follow along. Comment if you’ve got a story, a question, or a better way to fix a puncture. Tell me what you want to read about and I’ll do my best to write it. I’m new to blogging, so the first few weeks will be a bit of a learning curve, but that’s part of the fun.

Here’s to a year of sensible planning, unexpected detours, and journeys that fit the pace you want to keep. See you on the trail, on the road, or at the next tea stop.

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Location: United Kingdom

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