24 Hours Hiking the Longest Day
My Summer Solstice Walk was a celebration of life, connection, and a much greater journey
It was midnight, the beginning of the longest day of the year, and I had 24 hours of hiking ahead of me.
I wanted to push myself. I wanted to see how far I could go, but it was also to raise money for the charity that helped me.
There had once been a part of me that wanted to die, and now I wanted to live, to connect more deeply with myself, with others, and the land I called home.
These were all the reasons I had set out to walk the coast of Great Britain 9 months earlier, and the Summer Solstice Walk was one day of that greater journey.
My friend Duncan had come to support me and would get some sleep while I walked through the night. I gave him a final thump-thump on the van before setting off along the coast.
I had been walking alone, but it hadn’t been a solo adventure. Hundreds of people helped me along the way.
Duncan had joined me at the start line to see me off in North Wales, had come to support me with his partner El at New Years, and had now driven to the remote northwest of Scotland to help me.
As I walked, Duncan would drive his van to meet me wherever he could, providing me much needed food and water, but it also meant that I didn’t have to carry my pack with all my camping equipment, electronics and food.
I was so grateful not to be doing it alone. Solo adventures are never truly a solo effort.
I was nervous about what lay ahead.
Since turning the corner onto the west coast of Scotland, the walking was tough. If I wasn’t box-stepping over waist-high heather or wading through bracken that was taller than me, I was rock climbing along the craggy shoreline.
Perpetual falling was a more accurate term to describe hiking the Scottish coastline.
Unlike England and Wales, Scotland has no coast path, and the Right to Roam Act meant I could be strict with the coastline — so I was. It meant the way forward was gruelling, but it offered wildlife, views, and beauty seen only by a handful of people.
I was excited though, just as I had been the October before, walking from my door and down to the coast to begin my journey. That energy carried me through those first exciting weeks, and it kept me going through my sleepless night.
It’s peaceful to walk at night. The ragged coast and mountains were one black mass, and the sea was hued with the northern sun that only briefly dipped below the horizon. My only company was the Stoer Head Lighthouse winking across the bay.
The cool air was a refreshing change too, from the thick, humid summer heatwave of June. It had caused a drought, drying up all the lochs and burns, which made it difficult for me to find enough water. I was relieved not to worry about water on the Solstice.
At 3am, the day began to fade in, and by 4am the sun was rising through the mountains to the east.
The peninsula had been firm underfoot and I made good progress. After 7 hours of energy gels and bars, I met Duncan who cooked me a full English breakfast.
I was feeling good. Properly fuelled, and without carrying my 15 kilo pack, I felt light and free.
It’s amazing how far we can go when we shed the things we don’t need, and when we accept help. It was the purpose of the walk, and I shed gear as much as the expectations and the grief and anxiety that had burdened me.
I continued to make great progress, happily following cattle-cropped shores and coast roads. The old posties led up through the crags of the mountains dropping into the sea loch. It was a rugged technical trail used by Scottish postmen in times gone, and much better than the ghostly deer tracks I was used to.
I entered a flow state, and my mind quietened as I focused on navigating through the rocky steps along the edge of steep cliffs.
It was always energising to be above it, to have that perspective. Not only could I see the coast I had walked, but I could feel its great immensity, far beyond the horizon. It was a line I had traced thousands of miles, around Scotland, England and Wales, all the way back to my doorstep. I felt connected to all of it through one long line of motion, and each step brought me toward closing that loop.
I descended the mountainside and met Duncan around 4pm. My feet were hurting now, as they had done every day for 9 months, and I was starting to tire. After thousands of miles, my body had become a workhorse, but my mind and body were starting to slow.
I had to force myself to eat something. I was sick of eating. I was sick of chewing. Every day I had to consume an abnormal amount to sustain myself, and food had become nothing more than calories. It was even worse over a 24-hour walk, but at least Duncan made me real food.
I listened to ‘The Lighting of the Beacons’ from The Lord of the Rings to get me pumped up.
It got me around the coast to the little town of Ullapool, which was my goal to reach by midnight. It seemed a good place to end the day, and was a big milestone for me, but when I arrived and slumped down in Duncan’s van, it was only 7pm.
I checked my Strava. 45 miles.
Checking my Strava did not help my motivation. I was proud at what I had done so far — I didn’t expect to get anywhere close to that distance — but I still had 5 hours to go.
I looked at the map. In 9 road miles was the bridge to cross to the other side of Loch Broom, which seemed like a good place to aim for now.
So after cheerily despairing and eating fish and chips, it was time for the final push.
Fish and chips are never a chore to eat, and it gave me a boost. Now I was on tarmac, it felt like all I could really go for it.
My wonderful girlfriend-to-be, who I met along the way months earlier, stayed up messaging me until I reached the bridge at midnight, and there Duncan was waiting for me with a well-earned dram of whisky.
I couldn’t have done the Summer Solstice Walk without Duncan. He had been on an adventure of his own, driving a greater distance around mountains and lochs to meet me, and having to restock food twice because I was eating so much.
According to Strava, I burned over 8000 calories in my 54-mile walk on the solstice and would go on to burn over 1,000,000 calories in my 6,600-mile journey around the coast.
I was shocked to have raised £800 for my charity when I really hadn’t thought it would be that popular.
The solstice felt like a lifetime, as did walking the coast of Great Britain.
And much how each began with excitement and trepidation, I went the distance, I felt it. I was helped along the way, pushed through the mounting challenges, the fatigue and the monotony, and achieved something my younger self didn’t think I was capable of.
The sun is the life-giver, and the Summer Solstice is a celebration of life and connection — just as I intended with my walk around the coast — and what better way to celebrate than to push myself in the company of loved ones, and to move across the earth with the sun.
