Empty, undulating peat can feel like an ocean when you're standing on it — one that offers few landmarks and many soft, treacherous sinks. Over the years I've learned that the landscape often leaves clues if you know where to look: a faint sheep-track, an old cairn, a line of tussocks, or the way water runs over the bog. These small signs can be the difference between a confident crossing and a...
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I often plan cliff-nesting kittiwake shoots around the same two priorities I have for any wildlife photography: get...
Peatland restoration is one of those practical conservation tasks where a small group of volunteers, the right kit, and...
When you spend as much time on Britain's wild edges as I do, the question of what to carry for an emergency bivvy moves...
When I’m walking upland routes that cross peatlands — whether a wind-scoured bog on a border ridge or a sodden moor beside a coastal climb — I carry two things beyond my map and waterproof: curiosity about how that landscape works, and a simple question: how can I help? Over the years I’ve...
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Peatlands feel like a different world: broad, soft, often silent, with a strange buoyancy underfoot and an honesty about weather — what starts as a light drizzle can become a sodden, wind-lashed slog in minutes. I’ve spent countless days walking across blanket bogs and raised mires around...
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I spend a lot of time photographing seabird colonies around Britain, and one lesson keeps nudging me every time I leave the path: the best images come from patience and respect, not aggression. Nesting birds are especially vulnerable during the breeding season. Disturb them and you can cause adults...
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I’ve stood on more than one exposed headland with a shredded tent fly or a rucksack strap dangling uselessly and that knot-in-the-stomach question — do I try to fix this here, or do I accept defeat and get off the hill? — is one I’ve learned to answer quickly. The difference between a long,...
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I spend a lot of time on peat and heather — the flat, lumpy, wind-bent places where lapwings, curlews and golden plovers feel most at home. Often these birds are heard before they're seen, or gone altogether except for the subtle signatures they leave behind: a half‑moon of footprints in soft...
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I remember the first time I came across a red deer rut on a windswept Scottish ridge: a raw, rasping chorus of stag calls rolling across peat and rock, a thunder of hooves as stags clashed for dominance. It felt like stepping into a different world — intimate yet public, thrilling yet fragile....
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When I plan a cliff walk on the Northumberland coast I do it with two goals in mind: to experience the drama of the edge and to leave the place no worse than I found it. The coast here is a study in contrasts — long sandy bays, jagged sandstone stacks, grassy headlands and soft, erodible cliffs...
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Every few miles on a long Borderhike route I find myself sinking into that soft, sodden world of heather and peat — boots disappearing, water seeping in from some cunning breach I didn't even notice. Choosing the right walking boots for wet heather and blanket bog is more than a gear checklist:...
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Fog on a border ridge is a peculiar thing: it swallows the crags I know by heart, turns fences into ghost-lines and reduces the coastline to a memory. I've learned that the moments when visibility collapses are exactly when a compass and an Ordnance Survey map become not just useful, but...
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I’ve spent many mornings standing on Solway Firth’s sands watching tide lines retreat and return, learning the rhythms that make this coastline beautiful — and potentially dangerous. Planning a safe coastal crossing here starts with one thing: understanding the tide timetable and how it...
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