WORDS FROM THE WILD

Welcome to the wild side

Welcome to the very first edition of my new column! Freshly returned from a recent foray in the more remote areas of Scotland, I’m full of new stories and experiences about the wonderful places our vehicles can make accessible to us. He’s the base for me and Celyn the itinerant Kelpie. In Scots mythology a kelpie is a malevolent shape-shifting water spirit, and that pretty much sums her up! You’ll inevitably find us paddling in a watering hole far from the madding crowds.

I’m a solivagant - a lone wanderer, a hodophile - a lover of travel and roads, and a cartophile - a lover of maps.

I’m also a forager, wild swimmer, obsessed with Scotland, and the owner of a self-converted Range Rover L322 called Ralph.

We make a good band of three.

Ralph takes care of much of the moving around, and I take care of him. Celyn supplies the entertainment along the way, and the cuddles, and together, we find ourselves in some of the lesser known parts of the UK, and occasionally further afield.

I like to be on the move. My parents instilled this in me from a very early age. Destination doesn’t matter much to me, it’s the journey and experiences along the way that count! I also like to be as far off the beaten track as possible for as long as possible. Cities, crowds, and civilisation hold little interest to me, I much prefer to find myself in the middle of nowhere.

If you’re interested in wild camping, wild swimming, camp cooking, bushcraft, foraging, overlanding, laning, remote places, self-sufficient travel, vehicle conversions, kit and gear, books, routes, and info, or just the idea of getting away from it all, then you’ll find something to interest you here, eventually.

I believe travel should not be constrained to the rich. Overlanding tax on kit and gear can make people believe that adventure is financially out of their reach, but this does not have to be the case. Don’t get me wrong, I love perusing the myriad products available to us in the modern-day world, there’s some amazing gear out there, but when my parents first took me overlanding in old Land Rovers and Volvos, even Morris Minors and Talbot Ranchos, none of it was available and we did just fine.

Over the years, I’ve travelled in many bargain basement selfconversions, often for months at a time. Although now I have a happy medium of self-built and bought gear that will inevitably evolve as my use of Ralph continues.

I see gear as an investment. Choose wisely, consider your needs rather than what that person on Instagram makes look awesome, and buy the best you can afford, but first, go forth and wander. Dip your toe in an adventure, and experience life on the road with nothing more than the basics, then decide what you really need.

Recycle, reuse, and upcycle. Sell, swap, and buy pre-loved. Fix and repair, but also save for some quality additions.

I’ve made beds from old chests of drawers and futons, upcycled old bits of wood from the shed, reused mattresses and upholstery, as well as buying some posh bits of kit to compliment the homemade creations. I’ll share more about both ends of the spectrum in future issues.

Ralph is relatively new to me, so I’m still exploring what will be his final(ish) set up. I bought him during Covid, and decided to upgrade from my previous spit and sawdust build. Although cheap and cheerful, Harry the £900 Freelander 1, an unusual choice of vehicle but I like to be different, provided me with some awesome adventures including months on the road in Scotland, trips over the Pyrenees, as well as covering most of the UK, and a significant amount of Europe. It even slept two and a dog for some of those trips, and carried three and all our gear on one, proving it can be done on a shoestring even if you’re not going it alone. Also proving that I prefer the solo experience of travel. Well, at least that I’m now far choosier about who I share my adventures with!

Less is more

My method of travel is quite haphazard. I don’t plan much, I usually have no idea where I will be spending the night, or how long my trips will last. As something of a digital nomad, I am lucky that my location matters very little to my job.

I always wild camp. I carry everything I need in the vehicle, and sleep in it too. I rarely stay in one place for more than one night. This means I carry everything I need on board, but it also means I need space to rest my bones at the end of the day, all inside one vehicle. This means packing wisely. Yes, I need everything to be selfsufficient, and I try to avoid heading into a town as much as possible on route - I don’t want to be carrying anything I don’t need.

The more you have the more it costs you in money, space, fuel and time. You have to buy, carry, pack/unpack, and maintain it all. It also takes up your headspace, and travel is all about clearing the mental clutter of the rat race. I’ll talk a lot more about how to downsize, but remain comfortable, in future issues.

Location, location, location

I might spend hours perusing maps, reading books, and other people’s stories, noting stuff that looks awesome to visit. Whilst I will stitch these into a trip if I find myself in the area, I don’t constrain myself with itineraries, and inevitably find myself in amazing places I’d not considered until I somehow, possibly through fate, mistake, or blind luck, ended up there.

When it comes to camping, if I find a spot that fits, I sits....or at least park. If it’s legal, beautiful, preferably has access to fresh water for a paddle and a wash, and few, to no, people, then it’s a good spot in my opinion. This may mean a long day of driving to find one, or a day’s driving cut short to stay in a place that takes your breath away. Both suit me fine, the rest of the world will still be there to explore in the morning.

I do the same with visits. I may be on route to a fabulous beach, a deserted village, a stone circle, or just to drive a remote road that I’ve identified, but if I see a signpost, or any sign of something interesting along the way, I’ll take a detour. I’ve ended up making some amazing discoveries doing this.

The experience

“For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move; to feel the needs and hitches of our life more nearly; to come down off this feather-bed of civilization, and find the globe granite underfoot and strewn with cutting flints.” - Robert Louis Stevenson

Travel is amazing. It isn’t always easy though, and it shouldn’t be. What it should do is test us, teach us, and inspire us. We should come back better than we left, even if with a dozen midge bites, wild hair, and those bruises you can never work out where they came from.

Lone travelling can be quite intimidating to some. Long periods of solitude with no one to rely on (or to speak to) other than yourself is understandably a bit scary if you’ve never done it before, but, with time you’ll realise it is the best gift you can give yourself.

You’re going to have some of the most amazing experiences of your life, but you’ll also encounter some pretty crap ones too - adverse weather, being unable to find a camping spot when you’re tired and just want to chill, clouds of bloody midges, mechanical issues and breakdowns, as well as more unexpected effects that being in the wild bring to the fore.

I’ve never felt lonely on a trip, but solitude will make you think, and it will bring some emotions, realisations and even epiphanies to the fore.

I’m not embarrassed to admit that I’ve had mechanical failures, but I have always got home. I’ve suffered some shocking weather, so bad that making food and sleeping was difficult, but I survived. Driven for miles tired and swearing because I just cannot find a spot to rest, but woken refreshed in a beautiful place with yesterday forgotten.

I’ve been caught with my pants down - why do walkers always appear as soon as you get your arse out? - but just laughed about it. I’ve been eaten alive by midges, clegs, and ticks. Found out I’m allergic to jellyfish the hard way, and even been called with a diagnosis of diabetes while in the arse-crack of nowhere. It was so remote I was more shocked that I had a phone signal than about the test results, but each crisis was safely averted.

I even had some very unexpected reactions to remote areas. I’ve honestly sat, or pulled over, and sobbed at the view of a mountain range, and not just once. Wild places, especially after considerable time away, will do that to you, but it’s a catharsis I firmly believe that we all need in our lives.

Even if you can only spare a weekend in the wild occasionally, do it. My advice in all cases is to embrace it all. Own it and learn from it.

It’s part of the experience and it will make you richer in the long run.

Plus, it’s the challenges, mistakes, and difficult moments that you’ll inevitably recount on your return. People love a story, and it is those moments that aren’t 'Insta-perfect' that make the most memorable anecdotes. They’re also the stories that will make you realise just how capable and adaptable you really are.

If I’ve not bored you to tears, join me next month for a closer (and very honest) look at getting away from it all in your 4x4. In the meantime, I’ll be busy planning my next trip while avoiding midges and flashing passing walkers.

Drive safe, Lauren and Celyn x