Borderhike Co / Guides
Working near seabird colonies on cliff edges is one of those experiences that feels both intimate and fragile — up close you can see the earnest business of breeding, but every step or shout risks undoing that work. I’ve carried out surveys...
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After a long multi-day border hike that threads cliff tops, boggy passes and quiet lanes, I often find myself wanting to stretch the trip with a single low-impact wild camp before I catch the train home. Those last hours — slowing down, setting up...
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Peat hags — those dark, ragged edges of peatland where the turf has slumped away — catch me every time. They’re beautiful in a bruised kind of way: layers of peat and roots revealed like the rings of a landscape’s memory. They’re also...
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I've followed a lot of cliff paths over the years: some smooth, some nervous, and a handful that have ended in that hollow, unstable crunch that tells you the ground beneath your feet is giving way. Crossing a collapsing cliff path is one of those...
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Slack-packing a border hike with trains and low‑impact resupply stashes is one of my favourite ways to experience Britain's wild edges. It lets you move light, linger in interesting places and stitch together routes that would be awkward as a...
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Why a short safety belay matters on grassy cliff exitsI've spent years picking my way off coastal cliffs and steep grassy slopes where a single slip can quickly become an uncontrolled slide. In those moments a full climbing setup isn't practical:...
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When I plan a trip to see puffins on the Farne Islands I start from one simple idea: the seabird colony must come first. You can make spectacular images and memories without putting breeding birds at risk — but it takes intention. Below I lay out...
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After a long winter of snow, the thaw brings a particular, uneasy season across blanket peat: white surfaces collapse into a patchwork of soft hummocks, hidden pools and thin crust that will no longer carry weight. I’ve learned to read those...
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I remember the first time I crawled out onto a peatland boardwalk to lift a broken board and examine what was going on beneath my boots. The smell of wet peat, the tiny bells of hare’s-tail cottongrass and the distant cry of curlew made it clear...
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There’s a particular kind of freedom to be found in low-tide coastal scrambles: a squeeze of wildness, the reveal of rock platforms and seaweed-smoothed routes, and the quiet satisfaction of moving along a shoreline when most of the crowds are...
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