KEMPSTON HARDWICK

The secret diary of Bedfordshire’s greatest adventurer

It was to be the most life-affirming, rewarding adventure of my life. Oh, and also the simplest. Throw some clothing into a backpack on the Friday afternoon and head out to a hill to overnight as nature had intended, slumbering beneath a starfilled sky. Outdoor life is easy, isn’t it?

But then my trusty backpack broke. Packed up. Kaput. Or at least the sternum strap did. Ah, sternum straps — the essential prerequisite of a hiker’s stability. I reach for my Macbook and the unadulterated purification of soul delivered by a true wilderness immersion is saved — and with next day delivery at only £5.99, even though it’s four days until the weekend. So at least I have a backpack again. The bivvy is back on. I nearly close the screen, but what’s that pop-up? Man, I love those popups. It’s like they’ve got my back whatever I’m planning.

Wow, a wood stove that charges my USB device as it burns? WTF! I don’t need that, really. Or do I? I was going to go with that tiny minimalist stove I already have. You know, the one that weighs less than a wren. Or is it a chaffinch? Whatever. But this one, it actually charges stuff, which means my phone will never die, which means I can digitally capture the essence of the bivvy moment for prosperity and Instagram likes. Because it’s my bivouac adventure. And that USB output means I can have music all night long. Damn, now I’ve got Lionel Richie in my head. I hate Lionel Richie. But you can’t spend a night in the wild without some sounds. That’d be dull. Jack Johnson instead? Better get on Spotify. I think I have a subscription.

And anyway the nice thing about that stove is that you don’t need a gas canister. Kaboom! Eco-warrior stuff or what? Get in. Apparently the thing eats twigs, or burns them, or something like that. It converts them to heat and power output. So I’ve simultaneously saved some grams and butterflies, or possibly ospreys, by leaving the propane behind. Keep it in the ground, right? But twigs don’t just grow on trees, so I’ll have to find them. And when I do, I’ll have to chop them up.

Summer 2019: Loving the Dream

So I’ll need an axe. Or a knife. Yes, a nice, new, sharp one. Maybe it should lock open. Is that legal? Maybe it’ll have one of those big fuck-off spikes for prying stones from horses’ hooves. Two-click Macbook magic, and the internet delivers. Again.

Actually I’m really not sure I’ll see horses where I’m planning to go, but Paypal has done the deal already and well, that spike could be good for something else — warding off rabid foxes maybe? Rabies has always been a fear of mine. And badgers. They have tuberculosis, don’t they?

But anyway, I can’t eat with just a knife, especially if I’ve whittled a yew tree down for appropriately sized twigs. So I’ll need some cutlery, or at least a titanium spork; the bastard offspring of an illicit spoon-fork liaison in an ex-soviet storage facility. I like the way titanium catches the light. It’s subtle, not bling. A bit like the decommissioned MIG jets that spawned it. My old billy-can is moulting carcinogenic Teflon like fur falling off a polar bear. But how about a collapsible silicon bowl? They do a matching mug too. And some freeze-dried meals. Oh instant apple crumble, where have you been all this time? Okay, I’ll get the mug at least. In lime green. That’ll look very good on Instagram with the titanium.

So where to go? The local hill isn’t sounding adventurous enough, micro-adventure-compatible or not. And anyway it’s actually quite big, more of a little mountain than a hill. So I’ll get a GPS, maybe a wristwatch one, and download some trails. That’ll let me go further off the beaten track. Let me find myself. It is all about life-affirmation, and more remote guarantees better affirmation. Add a 4200mah power backup battery, just in case the stove burns and the USB output flatlines.

So I’m set. Just a couple more decisions to make. Bivvy bag or tarp? Maybe both, then I can sit up in my bivvy under the tarp. Who says the outdoors and comfort are incompatible. And synthetic or down sleeping bag? And how many seasons do I need? Just one, right? After all it’s just one night, not a snow-hole hibernation. So, what else? Something Gore-tex, definitely. And a microfibre towel for wild swimming, even if I’m not exactly sure what that is. But then I’ve never swum in October, not outdoors at least. Do I need trunks?

And of course, I best take a Gopro just in case my wild inner self surfaces. After all, really wild people love people’s wild videos of people wild swimming. I think there’s even a dedicated Youtube channel for that. Or is it a Facebook group?

So I’d best pop in a couple of extra Gopro batteries. And a chest-mount strap. And a selfie stick.

Okay. So now I’m all set. Just heave it all into the new © World’s Strongest Sternum Strap Backpack and get out there. Into the wild.

But Kate has just reminded me that she has pilates, and Rose has a piano lesson on Saturday morning. And Luke has soccer practice at 2pm. Going to be tricky. Anyway, the Met Office just posted a weather alert. Yellow I think. Or was it indigo? Serious though. Definitely rain, or drizzle. And windy. So I’d best hold off. Until another day. The outside isn’t going anywhere, after all. Funny, the barometer on my new GPS isn’t showing an alert. Maybe it’s faulty; maybe I’ll send it back.

Kempston Hardwick is a keen-as-mustard adventurer and dad who defies his rapidly amassing years by seeking outdoor recreation. His irrepressible readiness to embrace al fresco challenges has bestowed him with worldly opinions which he applies to every turn in life, whether bagging Munros or browsing the organic frozen pizza aisle of Waitrose. It is believed he was named after the place where he was conceived, a local railway station near Milton Keynes. He is a good friend of the author of this column, Dan Milner.

I’ll take a microfibre towel for wild swimming, even if I’m not exactly sure what that is. Do I need trunks?