AN overdue Adventure
Yes, yes, Adam, we get it. You drive long distances, you get up early, and apparently every adventure begins with you spending six hours in the car. Try not to make a habit of this opening paragraph for every blog.
Every now and then, you need to pack the car, point it in a different direction and give yourself a few days away from the usual routine. This trip was particularly special, though, because it had been far too long since I'd been on a proper adventure with my brother. Nine years, to be precise, which is a ridiculous amount of time when you think about it.
With around 310 miles of driving ahead of me, I set off for the Lake District, a journey that took roughly six hours with just a quick stop for petrol along the way. It was a long old drive, but I was excited to catch up with my brother, spend some time with the family and explore somewhere I'd never visited before.
When I arrived, I was welcomed by my brother, his fiancée Liv, her mum Debbie, and two very important members of the household: Mika the dog and Beans the cat. After the usual greetings and catching up, I got a proper look at the house Debbie was working so hard to transform.
Having moved to the Lakes, Debbie had taken on quite a project, buying a fixer-upper with the idea of turning it into an Airbnb aimed at hikers and photographers. There was clearly plenty of work involved, but what she'd achieved so far was genuinely impressive, and I could already picture it becoming a brilliant base for people wanting to explore the surrounding countryside with a camera or a pair of walking boots. I'll add a link here once it's open, so keep an eye out if you're planning a trip to the Lakes yourself.
Of course, I hadn't driven all that way to sit indoors, so the first order of business was to stretch my legs and take Mika out for a walk along the Howk trail near Caldbeck.
This was my first proper taste of the Lake District, and what a way to start. The trail winds through a limestone gorge, with waterfalls, woodland and the atmospheric remains of an old bobbin mill tucked into the landscape. It's one of those places that makes you stop for a moment, take everything in and wonder why on earth it's taken you so long to visit.
I regularly find myself having that thought these days. I spent much of my younger life looking beyond the UK, keen to travel abroad and see what else the world had to offer, without necessarily giving my own country the time it deserved. As I've got older, though, I've developed a real appreciation for the British countryside, and it's become one of my favourite places to spend my time. There's something rather nice about realising that some of the places capable of making you happiest are right here on your doorstep, even if it takes you a few decades to appreciate them properly.
I also spent some time photographing Mika along the trail, which was a lovely way to get to know the place. There's something particularly enjoyable about photographing a dog when they're out exploring, following their nose and getting on with being a dog. Mika was more than happy to investigate everything along the way, and I came away with some photographs that captured a little of her character as well as the beautiful surroundings.
After our walk, we had a wander around the local village of Caldbeck and stopped at the Muddy Duck, which would very quickly become one of my favourite places of the trip. It's always a bonus when you discover somewhere that feels like the sort of place you could happily return to again and again, and this one had already made a good impression.
Back at the house, we settled in for a well-earned dinner of meatballs, followed by an evening of chatting absolute nonsense and laughing our way through conversations that somehow jumped from food to the best of everything. There were increasingly serious debates about whether certain meals are better with pasta, rice, potatoes or bread, because apparently no subject is too trivial when you've got a full evening to fill.
Naturally, the conversation eventually turned to owning a pub and the all-important question of which four beers we'd keep on draught if we could never change them again. After careful consideration, my choices would be Guinness, Aspall's cider, Hazy Jane and Modelo. A perfectly balanced selection, if I do say so myself, although I'm sure plenty of people will disagree with at least two of those choices. Feel free to tell me how wrong I am.
What I loved most about the evening, though, was how easily we slipped back into spending time together. After dinner, my brother and I sat editing photographs, something we hadn't done together for years, and it was genuinely interesting to see how differently we'd approach the same images. Photography is such a personal thing, and comparing edits, discussing our choices and seeing somebody else's creative take on an image is one of those simple pleasures that can easily get overlooked.
We spent the rest of the evening planning the following morning's hike, and with Catbells firmly on the agenda, it was time to get some sleep.
questionable fitness and an impeccable cheese scone
The following morning was beautiful, and I woke up with the sort of enthusiasm that can only exist before your legs realise what you've signed them up for.
We hadn't even got very far from the house when the first bird of the day appeared: a dipper. The dipper is a firm favourite of mine but where I live, a dipper isn't exactly an everyday sight, In fact I would say if I saw one in Essex it would be very very lost! Starting the morning with one felt like a pretty good omen, although the day would soon remind me that wildlife photography isn't the only thing I need to work on.
Our journey towards Catbells was briefly interrupted by a pheasant roadblock. Not one pheasant, mind you, but a whole collection of them, seemingly determined to turn the road into their own private country lane. We sat patiently waiting for them to move, because apparently the Lake District operates on its own schedule, whether you're a photographer, a hiker or a bird with absolutely no interest in traffic.
Thankfully, we managed to find a great parking spot near the start of the trail, so all that research on Google the previous evening had actually paid off. There was nothing left to do but get our boots on and start climbing.
Now, I should probably explain that my idea of keeping fit and actually keeping fit have not always been the same thing. Unfortunately you can’t get fit eating McDonalds double sausage and egg McMuffins. The combination of being unfit, deciding to carry the camera with me and being addicted to nicotine meant that the ascent of Catbells was a fairly humbling experience. There were moments when I questioned several of my life choices, and I suspect my brother was getting a rather entertaining demonstration of just how much work I had to do before anyone could reasonably describe me as a hiker.
Me, halfway up, half dead, fully questioning life decisions…still having fun!
Catbells is often described as a relatively accessible fell, but that doesn't mean it won't make you work for the views. There are steep sections and rocky stretches where you need to take care, with some scrambling that calls for three points of contact. I was more than happy to take my time, concentrate on where I was putting my feet and leave the heroic mountain-climbing performances to people who hadn't spent the last few years treating exercise as an optional extra. My brother included, he is basically part mountain goat.
But once I reached the top, all the huffing, puffing and internal negotiations about whether I could simply live on the hillside forever suddenly seemed worthwhile. That, and concentrating fully on not being blown off my feet by the wind.
The views across Derwentwater were incredible, with the surrounding fells stretching out in every direction. It was one of those moments when you realise that photographs are never quite going to do a landscape justice, no matter how much you fiddle with your settings or how wide a lens you've brought along. What the photographs also won't tell you is just how ridiculously windy it was up there. It felt as though the Lake District was doing its best to blow me straight back down the mountain, but even that couldn't spoil the experience. Check out the short video below, make sure the sound is on and look at my face 🤣
The windiest wind that ever did wind at the top of Catcalls
After taking in the views and catching my breath, we began the walk back down, which was a much more relaxed affair. I basically allowed gravity to carry me down without falling over. We chatted, laughed and enjoyed being out together, and I found myself thinking about how long it had been since we'd done something like this.
Nine years is a long time to go without a proper adventure with your own brother, and it seems daft when you say it out loud. Life gets busy, priorities change, and sometimes you find yourself dealing with things that make getting out and doing the things you love feel harder than they should. Looking back, I wish we'd made time for more adventures over the years, but I was grateful that we were finally putting that right.
Besides, it's difficult to feel too sorry for yourself when you're surrounded by scenery like this, enjoying a good walk with someone you love spending time with. Even if you are desperately unfit.
On the way back to Caldbeck, the sheep decided it was their turn to create a roadblock, because apparently no journey in the Lakes is complete without negotiating your way around an animal that has absolutely no intention of hurrying. Between the pheasants and the sheep, I was beginning to suspect the local wildlife had organised a committee to make sure nobody got anywhere particularly quickly. It is nice to slow down though…
The weather had been a little wet during our walk, although thankfully nothing like the conditions we'd been expecting. After a quick change out of our damp clothes, we headed back to the Muddy Duck for the second day running. That should tell you something about how good the place is.
This time, I ordered a well-earned coffee and a cheese scone with chilli jam, which I can only describe as an 11/10 experience. I don't want to overstate things, but this may genuinely have been the best cheese scone in the world. The combination of the scone and chilli jam was spot on, and I would highly recommend giving it a go if you find yourself nearby. Yes I did share it with my brother - he loves them as much as I do.
There's something rather lovely about finding a place where you can sit for a while, enjoy good food and simply relax without feeling the need to be somewhere else. After a morning climbing Catbells, it felt like a little slice of happiness, and the Muddy Duck had officially earned a place in my heart.
The rest of the afternoon was deliberately slower. I headed back to the Howk trail on my own, giving myself the chance to explore at my own pace and photograph the gorge and surrounding scenery. It's always nice to revisit a location without feeling the need to keep moving at the pace of a determined and extraordinarily fast black labrador, particularly somewhere as beautiful as this, where there are little details you can easily miss when you're concentrating on the walk.
There was also time for a quick stop at the local pub before heading back for dinner, where Max had kindly made butter chicken for my birthday. Good food, good company and no need to be anywhere in a hurry: it was a lovely way to round off the day, and after the early start and climb, I was more than ready for bed.
The road to Mull
The next morning came around far too quickly, and it was time to say goodbye to everyone and the Lakes and begin the next leg of the adventure. I had around four and a half hours of driving ahead of me to reach Oban, where I'd be catching the ferry over to the Isle of Mull.
My brother wouldn't be joining me for this part of the trip, as he was heading back south with Liv and Mika, but I wouldn't be travelling alone once I reached Mull. More on that shortly.
The drive itself was an experience. I'd travelled past Loch Lomond earlier in the year on my way to Fort William, although that time I'd been fortunate enough to be chauffeured. You can read about that adventure here. This time, I was behind the wheel, the roads were clear and the morning light was doing something rather special to the landscape.
With a full tank of fuel and plenty of horsepower at my disposal, I settled into what can only be described as a spirited drive, whilst remaining firmly within the speed limits, obviously. Country music was playing through the speakers, the scenery was rolling past, and I had nowhere I particularly needed to be in a hurry. I had given myself more than enough time to reach Oban. For once, I could simply enjoy the drive and take it all in.
Somewhere along the way, I started reflecting on the last few days.
I was happy. Properly, properly happy, in a way I hadn't always felt over the previous few years.
So happy, in fact, that I had a little happy cry while driving along. Not because anything was wrong, but because sometimes you get one of those moments when everything seems to fall into place and you realise just how much you've needed a bit of time away.
I'd spent time with my brother, explored somewhere completely new, got out with my camera and done something that felt genuinely good for the soul. More than that, I felt as though I was finding my place in the world more and more as I do these adventures for myself, something I've often struggled to make sense of over the years. I don't think there's always one big moment when you suddenly work everything out; sometimes it's a collection of little experiences that remind you what makes you happy and what you want more of in your life.
This trip had already given me plenty of those moments, and I hadn't even reached the main event yet.
Of course, all that reflection and appreciation for life was eventually interrupted by the need for fuel, both for the car and for myself. Now, I'm not particularly proud of what followed, but when you're travelling through the Highlands and need breakfast, sometimes you have to work with what's available.
So, from a petrol station in the middle of nowhere, I emerged with a Monster energy drink and a bag of Monster Munch.
A breakfast fit for champions. Or, more accurately, a breakfast fit for someone who had made absolutely no effort to prepare for a long road trip. I can hardly claim to be a responsible adult when this is the best I can manage, can I? Also, isn’t going to help with my fitness levels is it? Oh well!
Eventually, I arrived in Oban earlier than expected and tried to get onto an earlier ferry, but it was busy, so I had a bit of a wait. I spent some of that time catching up on the social media admin, because apparently even escaping to the Highlands doesn't guarantee freedom from Instagram. I should really put a time limit on that app.
As it turned out, trying to catch that earlier ferry was rather fortuitous. While waiting to board, I got a message from Andy, a wildlife photographer who would be joining me for the next week on Mull. He'd also tried to get onto an earlier crossing, entirely by chance.
We had a good introductory chat during the crossing, while plenty of the other passengers were busy admiring the grey seals visible off the port side. It was a lovely way to begin getting to know someone I'd be spending a fair amount of time with over the coming days, and the wildlife sightings were a promising taste of what awaited us on the island.
Once we arrived on Mull, we grabbed a coffee and a light lunch before heading to the accommodation to meet Mike. You should know Mike Phelps by now but if you don’t the man is a legend. We unloaded the cars, got ourselves sorted and waited for Phil, otherwise known as the badger man — at least, that's how I'll introduce him for now. I'll explain that nickname properly in the next part of the blog and his new nickname.
With everyone finally together, Mike took us out for a short drive to give us a taste of the island. Even on that brief trip, Mull was already delivering, with buzzards overhead, seals along the coast, red deer in the landscape and even an otter in the distance. Unfortunately, the otter was too far away for me to get any photographs, but it was a promising start and only added to the excitement of what lay ahead.
We headed back for pizza and a relaxed evening of conversation. We had an early night ahead of us, not because I'm going to make a big deal about another early start, but because we had a rather exciting reason to get out the following morning: an otter location to revisit, with the hope of getting a much better look.
And with that, my Lake District adventure came to an end, while the Mull adventure was only just beginning.
The Lakes had given me something I hadn't realised quite how much I'd missed: a proper adventure with my brother, time to catch up, plenty of laughter and a reminder of how good it feels to step away from everyday life and make time for the people who matter.
Nine years was far too long to wait for another adventure together, and I certainly don't intend to leave it that long next time.
As for Mull, the next few days would turn into one of the most memorable wildlife photography adventures I've ever had, with encounters and experiences that I'll remember for a very long time.
Continue reading: My Apex Adventure on the Isle of Mull — one I will never forget. Quick note this isn’t ready yet if you are ready this!!!!! Sorry!
