Sarah Rya■
Following the tragic recent death of Sarah Everard, we find out from four female adventurers what it means to be a woman going walking in the hills on her own.
speaks to female walkers to find out how safe they feel hiking solo in Britain’s hills and mountains
About 50m from the bothy door, I stopped. Clouds condensed around the peaks, my backpack clawed at my shoulders like a grizzly bear and my toes slowly numbed in damp socks. There it was, a tiny block of a building hunched against the great dark wall of the hill. It looked creepy in a way that only abandoned houses can, and as I approached an unsettling fear crept up behind my anticipation of steaming tea, dry socks and fluffy sleeping bag.
Then the door opened, a guy came out carrying a pan and walked off towards the stream. Nothing weird at all – and yet the image is seared into my memory. My fears of spending the night alone in a potentially haunted old hovel were washed away in a wave of more immediate concern. Should
I even go in if it was just going to be me and one other man? Should I camp somewhere else? It was already getting dark and it would take a while to get out of sight.
I’ve since spent many nights in a bothy and all of them, including that one, have been totally fine. The people I’ve met, mostly guys, have been without exception friendly, polite and encouraging. We unite, with mugs of tea and searing swigs of whisky, over a love of hills and high places, or simply make quiet space for each other. But it took a lot of balls, so to speak, and careful assessment of the situation, to go in that first bothy, that first time.
I, like most women, was raised with a set of rules to follow at night: don’t walk alone, don’t walk through unlit places, avoid parks. And before that with the Little Red Riding Hood tales of a girl’s vulnerability in the woods. That first advice applies more to cities and streets. The second to an ancient, human fear of being vulnerable and alone in a wild place.
But there are very few other people and no other apex predators in the British hills. The vast majority of the time, we don’t need to be afraid. On the contrary, being self-sufficient in the hills and wild places can be empowering, joyful and freeing.
Of course, terrible things do happen. 4.5% of women suffered sexual assault in the year 2018-19, and that’s only among households – not halls of residence or other unlisted places – and it’s only what people spoke openly about. But we mustn’t let fear prevent us from doing the things we love. Hillwalkers, in my experience, are some of the soundest people in existence, and people in general are usually alright, so how can we encourage and support others to get out and enjoy the hills – in solitude, if so wished?
Some ideas are well documented. Being polite, friendly, refraining from sex-based banter, allowing women space and maintaining a general disinterest in their movements, are the basics. Speaking up for someone, if you can see that they’re being made to feel uncomfortable, can be hugely reassuring. We should also all let go of any idea that you should go outdoors alone if you don’t want to. We all have different ways of enjoying the hills. We asked four solo walkers about theirs...
“IT’S NORMAL TO BE SCARED OF GOING INTO THE WILDERNESS ON YOUR OWN, BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN WE SHOULD LET FEAR STOP US”