Do it for the fun of it or fundraise for Slow Ways to support our work at the same time.
Supporting Slow Ways will help address many challenges people are facing in the country while bringing people together and giving people joy. We know the national walking network we are developing will boost people’s health, wellbeing and happiness. We are connecting people and communities, saving people money, enabling climate action, nurturing culture, and helping people get from A to B.
You can blend the Big Slow Ways Challenge with others challenges too. Doing a 1000 Mile Challenge, counting steps or training for an event? Why not do the Slow Ways Challenge at the same time? Find out more and sign up here.
As well as helping with our mission to create the national walking network you’ll be able to claim exclusive Slow Ways snail badges as you hit your milestones. And the first 50 people to reach 100K will receive a free Slow Ways t-shirt.
Launching today – a new citizen project to map Britain’s worst and non-existent paths. Our crowdfunder needs you!
Slow Ways is doing a brilliant job of showing people good and recommended ways to go. But you are bound to have come across places and instances where there simply is not a good enough way to go.
All too often paths are inaccessible, undesirable and non-existent. At worst paths are actually dangerous.
From private land and fast roads to cows and fences, we can all think of things that get in our way.
That is why we are creating Make Ways – a new citizen project to map where new and better paths, trails and ways are needed. While Slow Ways is about sharing good ways to go, Make Ways will be for mapping where you’d like to go, but can’t.
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People will be able to plot where they’d like to be able to go and map things that either help or hinder journeys by foot, wheel or bicycle. They’ll be able to discuss, vote and act on what is shared.
We need your support to bring Make Ways to life. Paths for All have already promised two-thirds of what we need to build and launch the Make Ways web platform. We now need to raise the rest.
Today we are launching a crowdfunding campaign to raise at least £30,000.
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The Slow Ways team would be very grateful if you were able to support the Make Ways crowdfunding campaign – and ideally as soon as possible. The crowdfunder runs until the 2nd of January, and it’s all or nothing – if we don’t raise the full £30,000 we’ll get nothing! The sooner you can support it, the more confidence other people will have to support it too.
Thanks to Aviva’s Community Fund, your donation will be matched. If you donate £50 we’ll get at least £100 towards the campaign. We will hit our target if just 300 people donate an average of £50, thanks to this match funding.
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We have some great rewards to thank you for your support. You’ll have contributed to a project that will make clear where people want to go. And you can also choose from amongst these lovely gifts:
Being a Make Ways Founder and having your name on the website
Limited-edition gold and black maps of Britain and Scotland
Exclusive fluorescent orange map of Scotland or Britain
Slow Ways Baggers’ Book
Showing your support as a group or organisation
A walk and talk with Slow Ways founder Dan Raven-Ellison
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If you are willing to support Make Ways please follow these steps.
Find out more here, make a donation and leave a comment
Share the Crowdfunder, including the hashtag #MakeWays
We’ll keep you updated and ask for your feedback
We’d love your help with mapping ways you’d love to go, but can’t
What would you use Make Ways for? Let us know!
Where do you wish you could walk but can’t? What are the things that block you? Do you have any photos of them? We’d love to hear your access disaster stories, or dream routes that don’t exist but should. Please do tell us here, and your experiences will help us to explain Make Ways to more people.
We at Slow Ways are so excited about Make Ways. Rather than taking long detours or playing it safe, we’ll soon have the tools to map what we think could be better. We have the potential through Make Ways to create new and better paths that ultimately will help more people to get out and walk, wheel, or cycle. Just like with Slow Ways we are summoning citizen power and doing this ourselves!
Please support this important work. Every contribution counts.
Wales brought in a 20mph speed limit in residential areas, and the change has been controversial. Hannah considers what it means for her country, her children and her twitchy accelerator foot
In September, overnight, Wales became a nicer place to walk, a nicer place to cycle, a nicer place to parent, and a much nicer place for the many thousands of people who live on busy roads.
It became a marginally more annoying place for people who are cutting it a bit fine to drive somewhere.
Wales changed the speed limit in most towns and villages to 20mph.
The shock of the slow
I am all of the above people. I drove a long journey across Wales on the Tuesday, and again on the Thursday, either side of the change, and it was hard! My accelerator-pedal muscle-memory, the sense of the ‘right’ speed from 25yrs of driving experience, the way I expect to see the outside move past me – they all jarred. 20mph on a straight trunk road feels like a crawl.
But, as with stopping smoking cigarettes indoors twenty years ago, we’ll soon find it hard to believe it was ever any other way.
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A friend who gave birth the day after the change, stood outside with her brand-new bundle. Her house is on the notoriously busy A487 in Ceredigion, through a near straight-line village named after an ancient bard but dominated by a trunk road. She’d been keen on the proposal for years, but hadn’t anticipated the biggest difference – the sound. From one day to the next the road noise quietened, the gardens were nice places to be, the idea of her brand-new daughter being able to scoot around her own village was suddenly a possibility.
The stress level in her village has fallen. And in hundreds of other villages across the country. Consider that reduction in stress, reflected in a hundred daily interactions – that’s a lot of extra good going around.
The stress level in her village has fallen. And in hundreds of other villages across the country. Consider that reduction in stress, reflected in a hundred daily interactions
Roads are the cause of about half of the hassle I give my kids. If I recorded every time my voice got above a certain decibellage over an average day, I reckon a full 50% of the occasions are ‘Wait at the corner. Wait at the corner!!’
Now we will have more time to see cars coming, they will dominate our landscape less, I will be a more pleasant tyrant to my little people.
As I drove at 20mph in my own town I spotted people I knew walking by and they nodded at me – they had time to identify me through the glass. On my second long drive I noticed features of the towns and villages I passed through that I wouldn’t have – that I hadn’t! – a few days earlier. I heard the opera playing from inside the car in front. I was surrounded by human beings in a way that is masked by 30mph+.
As I walk I’ve noticed myself thinking, yes – if I was hit at this speed I might get away with just a broken bone. And as I drive I have time to think the same about what if I hit someone, because I am more scared of killing someone than I am of being killed even.
A friendlier land of dragons, drawn by schoolchild Noa Williams
This weekend I was explaining the Slow Ways network to somebody at a stand we had. I said, as I have said often, “We’re not exactly making something new. Until recently everyone would have known how to walk between their closest towns. It’s just that we’ve lost that knowledge, and lost the routes, and so we are trying to put that back.”
Forced to find alternative ways
And then it occurred to me that in many places the fastest, most direct way to walk between towns then became the roads that we can no longer walk on. The speed of normal car-based travel has made it unpleasant and dangerous to use these highways except for in cars. So we are looking for alternative ways.
Sometimes these alternative ways are a new route adjacent to the fast road, sometimes the original one that has been superseded by a faster bypass, sometimes lanes that are older still. (In walking Slow Ways I’ve grown accustomed, but still adore, the tingling feeling as I suddenly notice that I am on a gnarled green lane or deep in a holloway, or stepping over a rock in some remote place that has been worn by millions of footsteps over thousands of years.)
A tingly moment between hills in Mid-Wales, walking over rocks worn by thousands of years of purposeful feet
Sometimes the alternative ways are nice new footpaths along roads, or serviceable pavements that do the job, and will be a whole lot nicer now in Wales.
We are weaving these all together to put back what once was.
Cars have won the roads, and I am a driver. I need my car, at least for now, with small children and awkward public transport. But perhaps as I next slow down for a 20mph sign I’ll remind myself that cars have won a lot, and this is a little thing for drivers to concede.
Writer Serena Coady spent one week hiking solo in Shetland, tracing parts of the Sanler route. She watched seals sunbathe on white sand beaches, walked among ancient ruins, and spent time with a mother-daughter farming team
This story is part of our Tales from a Slow Way series. Each ‘Tales’ award includes a donation to the organisation as well as a project fee to the creative. Serena’s project donation went to Shetland Young Farmers.
I arrive in Lerwick, Shetland’s main town, at 7am sharp. I’ve managed to catch a startling amount of sleep on the 14-hour ferry crossing from Aberdeen. There are direct flights, sure, but I find that the oceanic voyage gives you the time and space to better appreciate the sheer isolation of these lands. It is also cheap.
I walk from the ferry terminal to the town centre of Lerwick. Lerwick – and as I soon discover, the rest of Shetland – is a place where you acknowledge the people you pass in the street. Whether it’s a smile or a “Hi!”, I am constantly reminded that I am far, far away from London.
Being unfashionably early for the guest-house check-in, I determine what it is that I absolutely need in my pack that day. I figure it’s okay to bring one book, instead of four, and two Toblerones instead of five (I later learn that three Toblerones would’ve been the magic number).
While I’m reshuffling my belongings around in the guesthouse lobby I meet two women, one from Australia, and one from the United States. They’re in Shetland on a knitting holiday. These are very, very popular here. The Australian woman instantly recognises my accent as being similar to her own — there’s a little thrill in two people from a remote island being united on another remote island on the other side of the world.
I walk into town with a new lightness to my step. My pack weighs a third of what it did when I got off the boat from Aberdeen. I visit the tourist office, chat with some locals, and get my hiking boots fitted with new insoles (high arches be damned!) Then I take a 10-minute ferry ride to the Isle of Bressay (pronounced ‘Bressa’ – I am told to drop the y), study one of the five maps I was armed with during my visit to the tourist office, and take a breath, watching the sunny town of Lerwick and its fishing boats become smaller.
In the car park at Bressay’s ferry port, a woman watches me. At first, she thinks I’m going to pick up a car, but when she realises that I’m just wandering about she offers me a ride. I hesitate, not because I’m someone who rules out rides from strangers, but because I worry that if I’m driven – even part of the way – it will detract from the beauty of walking and I’ll miss something precious. Then she tells me there’s one single store on the island, and it’s a charity shop. I am not one to refuse such an offer.
Inside the former primary school turned bric-a-brac shop, Janet tries on jackets, laughing to herself, saying she absolutely doesn’t need another one. The jacket suits her perfectly, so I spur her on. I come across a collection of books, fantasy novels from the 1980s and reams of birdwatching manuals, and set myself a purchase limit of one (it’s a non-fiction book about love, and I already own it). I learn that Janet has recently moved here from Nigeria. She’s in Bressay to work as a carer, but isn’t sure for how long. However, she seems prepared, as she’s really into layering at the moment.
Janet has recently moved here from Nigeria. She seems prepared, as she’s really into layering at the moment.
Layers are crucial, she says. Even after being here for only two summer months, she knows that the weather can rapidly switch up. “It’s a four seasons in a day kind of place,” says Janet. It seems I have chosen the opportune moment to visit Shetland; that day, and the four days that follow, there isn’t a single drop of rain.
I buy the book, bid Janet farewell, and continue my walk across Bressay’s fine mid-section. On Shetland’s fifth-largest island, there are ancient stone ruins, croft houses, farms, and an old castle on the hill. I see them all, but what I see even more of is cows. Plenty of them. They see me too, and I mean really see me.
I don’t know if they’re staring because they have an innate ability to sense I’m not from around here, or because they think my baseball cap is kind of an ‘off’ fit for my head. It might just be one of those things where they’re staring because I’m staring. I pass a field where a cow is rubbing its back on a telephone wire – just really, really getting into it. And I think: I am just like you. We are the same.
Right in time, I spot my first Shetland pony in the distance. It’s not my first ever sighting of a Shetland pony, but it is my first here. I can’t quite describe how wonderful it feels to bear witness to one of these miniature beauties on their home turf. But I’ll try. There’s a flash of icy blonde hair, a shimmy to ward off a pack of flies, and a rebellious stomp of a tiny horse leg — it’s magic.
It’s another two-and-a-half miles to the eastern side of Bressay, where I’m told you can take a three-minute boat ride to the neighbouring isle of Noss, a nature reserve known for its migratory seabirds. You simply show up, wave the boat over, and pay your fare in cold hard cash. This is the very last day of the season. From tomorrow, the boat will no longer make the crossing.
Once I arrive at Noss, I am told that looking for puffins would be a fruitless quest. The birds retired to different tides just five days prior. Still, I search and I hope. I walk across the paddocks and up over the hills with purpose, casting my eye across treeless fields of grass, towering sea cliffs, and the cerulean sea. Walking the full perimeter of Noss takes me a little over two hours and I only see three other people. The small island rewards my desperation to catch a glimpse of wildlife and offers up two playful seals. I am most grateful.
At the end of my first day in Shetland, I almost pass out in my guesthouse bed at a child’s bedtime of 6.30pm – boots and all. Nevertheless, I gather the strength to go out and eat something. I head to a local Indian restaurant and enjoy one of the most delicious vegetable kormas I’ve ever had. On the walk back to the guest house I stroll out along the rockpools by Lerwick’s town centre, taking in the green pastures across the bay and the sky’s dusty pink hues.
In the corner of my eye, I catch a flicker of movement, thinking it’s a duck. I look closer and it’s a seal, playfully twirling in the waves. It slips beneath the surface as if it knows what’s coming. Suddenly, the waves shift from calm to purposeful. They surge towards me, gracefully, as if the sea is a sheet of silk that has been thrown into the air and is falling back to the ground.
The next morning, I’m up early. I eat two fried eggs and begin my journey to Quendale Farm. I ride the local bus (highly recommend) from Lerwick to Bigton and get off near St Ninian’s Isle, a sand causeway with the ruins of a chapel burrowed into the isle. The walk from St Ninian’s to Quendale Farm is almost seven miles and offers panoramic views of Shetland’s coastline.
When I first moved here and I looked at the view, I thought, is this something that you will ever take for granted? Will you ever not notice it?
The farm is located in one of the island’s most picturesque regions. It’s surrounded by a historic watermill, rolling green hills, and a beach, which happens to be Shetland’s longest. “It’s such a beautiful place. I mean, when I first moved here and I looked at the view, I thought, is this something that you will ever take for granted? Will you ever not notice it? But that never happens,” says Hilary, who runs the farm with her husband Martin, daughter Emma, and three employees.
The brilliance of this region has become a constant source of comfort in Hilary’s life, particularly in recent years.
“When you’re going through difficult times in your life and other things are happening, you can go out, walk two minutes to the beach, and just enjoy it. And I still enjoy that now. I had quite a lot of losses. I lost my mum and my dad at the either end of COVID, so being able to just go outside and enjoy being outside was a big help,” says Hilary.
When I first approach the farm, I manage to lose myself in the surrounding fields for a good forty minutes. When I eventually find Hilary, I’m relieved to see I haven’t missed too much of the action. Today they’re working with the Suffolk ewes, figuring out which ones they will keep and send off with the rams, and which ones they will sell. It’s a lengthy, detail-oriented process – they have 1,000 sheep on their farm.
The sheep’s teeth, udders, and preexisting health conditions are checked. There’s also the crucial element of looking for what Hilary calls ‘personality problems’, which usually involves the sheep not liking their own lambs.
“This is the highest offence if you’re a sheep, because then you need to bottle feed the lambs. This part will drive you crazy,” says Hilary.
With 120 cows, their main enterprise is providing fresh milk to Shetlanders. The milk goes right from the farm to Lerwick, travelling 22 miles to be pasteurised, processed, and bottled. The freshness and locality of the produce brings a smile to Hilary’s face.
Along with running day-to-day operations at the farm, she works as a vet. As such, every day can look a little different. Typically, it’s farmwork in the morning, an afternoon of working in her home office, and then it’s back to farmwork in the evening.
“I didn’t have anything to do with farming when I was growing up,” says Hilary. She’s originally from an urban part of Nottingham, but credits a life-long love of the outdoors, and her early work as a vet, working with pigs and chickens, as the elements which have led her to Quendale.
Hilary first arrived in Shetland as a local vet in 1997. She then went off to work in the Pacific for a couple of years, which was “always part of the plan.” Then the stars aligned in 2000 when she was offered another job in Shetland. When she returned, she met Martin, her future husband, when she was calving one of his cows. We’re in the barn when she tells me this part of her story, and she points out the corner where the cow gave birth to twins two decades prior.
It’s always been a safe place and a happy place for people passing through
These days, Hilary’s life revolves around two Fs. “Family and the farm – and the home. That’s what I love most about being here. Especially with lockdown, that’s what we really appreciated. Also, it’s always been a safe place and a happy place for people passing through,” says Hilary. There’s only one thing she misses, and that’s trees. And I’ve noticed. They’re in very limited supply on this island.
Another part of the island I become keenly aware of during my short time there is the sense of community. The residents come together in solidarity, forming tight-knit bonds. Of course, Hilary has been both witness and part of this, for the past 23 years.
“We’ve got a couple of people that help us with the garden and we know who everybody is, everybody down the road. I think that’s what is really special about Shetland. The community around that,” says Hilary.
Whether it’s a local arts festival, a grassroots initiative to regenerate the natural environment, or simply daily interactions between neighbours, Shetlanders seem to naturally and consistently show their dedication to their community. This pattern seems to extend beyond Shetland and be a feature of other remote areas, often islands. While these places may be geographically isolated, socially it’s far from it.
Hilary’s 19-year-old daughter Emma, is currently home for her university break. She shows me around, animatedly giving me the rundown on each piece of farm machinery. At one point, she retrieves an ancient-looking pair of sheep clippers – a family heirloom that belongs to her dad. Then she informs me that she knows a guy who can shear a sheep in less than a minute. “When I first started, he had done 15 sheep in the time I had done one,” says Emma. Now, she’s got one sheep down to the three-minute mark.
Emma’s contagious, youthful energy brings the tapestry of farm work to life. She’s fully immersed in her work as a farmer. The only thing that occasionally pulls her out of the zone is when her collie, Nell, tears onto the scene, and she has to whistle in reprimand. I watch as Nell zips around the property, through the shed doors, stopping only for pats and to inspect a small, dead bird that has fallen from the rafters.
Ah, to be a farm dog.
“At school, the boys were encouraged to go down more practical routes, and the lasses were encouraged to carry on with school”
Emma’s older brother is in finance. He works in London. When they were children, he knew that farm life wasn’t for him, and she knew that it was for her. In high school, she was encouraged to explore alternative career pathways.
“At school, the boys were encouraged to go down more practical routes, and the lasses were encouraged to carry on with school. My careers advisor told me to stay in school and go on to do a degree, and she told the boys to do the exact opposite,” says Emma.
In an earlier conversation, Hilary mentioned that often when it’s a husband-wife team working the farm, the husband is seen as the one who performs the bulk of the work, which isn’t always the case. Despite the misconception that farming isn’t ‘women’s work’, the data – as well as farmers like Hilary and Emma – clearly prove otherwise. Agriculture, forestry, and fishing account for nearly 19% of the workforce in Shetland. Across Scotland, most of the agriculture workforce consists of owner-occupiers, so those who own or rent the farm they work on. Among all working occupiers, 40% are women.
Very little research has been undertaken on women in farming, both in mainland Scotland and Shetland. When data about women in these roles has been recorded, the full range of farm work – livestock care, household management, bookkeeping, and more – undertaken by these women isn’t often captured, leading to their significant involvement in farming being underrepresented.
This was confirmed in a 2017 report for the Scottish Government. “Farming, and the agricultural sector as a whole, is an area in which women’s contributions are often not recognised and at a leadership level women are significantly under-represented,” the report read. These findings were based on focus groups, interviews, and surveys of women working in the crofting counties of Argyll and Bute, Highland, Moray, Na h-Eileanan Siar, Orkney and Shetland. In the survey, many women also reported feeling unwelcome and intimidated in these male-dominated agricultural environments, and like they weren’t taken seriously.
“Sometimes, when you’re told not to do something, that’s actually what makes the most change”
It doesn’t surprise me that Emma was in no way deterred by the remarks of her careers adviser.
“I can see why she said it, but I decided to do what I wanted to do. Sometimes, when you’re told not to do something, that’s actually what makes the most change,” says Emma. She cites positive role models as being fundamental to her pathway into farming. Of course, there’s her mum Hilary, but during her high school years, she was also inspired by two sisters running a farm in Bigton, just up the road.
After undertaking work experience at their farm, Emma knew she wanted to venture off the island to study agriculture.
“I was doing work experience at their farm, and the careers advisor was like, oh, don’t do work experience there, go work in a primary school or something like that. I was 14 or 15, so it was a time when you’re looking into colleges. If I hadn’t gone to Amy and Kirsty’s, I may not have gone off-island to study agriculture,” says Emma.
After completing her first year at university in Shropshire, she knows she’s made the right decision. “There are agricultural colleges in Scotland, but they’re in Edinburgh and Aberdeen, and I didn’t like the city, so I was trying to find somewhere that would work for me. Otherwise I knew I’d get on the plane and come straight back home,” says Emma.
“In Shetland, it’s very community-oriented. You just walk into people’s houses, but there you can’t just walk in, you have to knock”
Even still, there were some adjustments that needed to be made for Shropshire. At least in the early days.
“In Shetland, it’s very community-oriented. You just walk into people’s houses, but there you can’t just walk in, you have to knock,” says Emma. “Also, you notice everyone’s accents a lot more. Plus, people won’t look at you like this all the time. Here you’re just walking around and you speak to everyone. Plus they’ve got 4,000 acres of arable land. When I first went there, I was like, whoa, this is crazy big. But yeah, it’s good to go away,” continues Emma. After she graduates, she plans to return home to Shetland.
I spend the rest of the afternoon with Hilary while she relocates Dave the duck to his new flat (a shed). Later, we pull up vegetables from the ground, including carrots, chard, leeks, and the most broccoli I have ever carried. When the day is done, I trek through the field and find the white sand beach. Hilary shares my love of coldwater swimming and could not recommend this spot enough. I take off my boots and dive right in. It is the second-coldest water I have ever felt, but the sun is out, and the water is clear.
I spend the next four days wandering Shetland at my own pace, led by my curiosity and recommendations from locals I strike up a conversation with in farm shops, cafes, local cinemas, and ferry terminals. I walk parts of the Slow Ways Sanler route through Shetland, breaking off to explore other islands off the coast. Rolling hills painted with the last of summer’s sea pink wildflowers stretch out before me, while the lapping of the waves offers a soothing soundtrack when my headphones forsake me.
When the trip comes to an end, I board the ferry to Aberdeen. As the sun sets, I look out the window as the boat passes the rugged Bressay coastline. At last light, a dolphin leaps out from the waves. Followed by another, and then another.
I leave with a deep feeling of peace. With time spent in big cities, it’s easy to forget the significance of small, passing moments of human connection, but Shetland has been a reminder of what can be found when we walk, opening ourselves to the world around us.
If you’d like to learn more about Quendale Farm, visit Shetland Dairies. If you’re eager to explore Shetland, speak to the kind folks at VisitScotland iCentre in Lerwick.
Serena Coady is an award-nominated journalist based in London. Her work has appeared in The Independent, CNN, i-D, Dazed, Vox, Refinery29, Insider, South China Morning Post, and Harper’s Bazaar. Alongside telling the stories of people who live in geographical isolation, she is a solo traveller and hiker. Serena is currently undertaking a Master’s in Dramaturgy & Writing for Performance at Goldsmiths, University of London.
Last year we launched ‘Tales from a Slow Way’, a community stories initiative that enabled us to commission creatives and community groups to work together to produce original stories and content situated around Slow Ways walking routes. Each award included a donation to the organisation as well as a project fee to the creative.
Together, the awarded projects map the sheer diversity of walkers across the UK and highlight the importance of forging new paths.
Click here to find out more about our Tales from a Slow Ways project!Why not sign up to walk and review Slow Ways. You can also find and follow us on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook.
As the clocks change and autumn doubles down, here are some tips for weathering (or even enjoying!) this wild season
Autumn can be beautiful, but every year I lose it to dread of winter and mourning for summer. It surely doesn’t have to be this way! If you are in the same boat, read on for tips that might make all the difference.
Get a new scarf
Charity shop is fine! There are vintage prints and woolly beauties waiting for you. Alternatively dig out your last-year scarves and give them a wash and iron, or a debobble in front of the telly, and fold them as if you just bought them. It’s a tiny mood-lifting celebration of colder weather.
Make the most of the light there is
The days before the clocks change are my worst of all as I dread leaving work in the dark next week. If you are fortunate enough to have some control over your work times consider starting an hour early and having a longer lunch break to soak in the light there is. The higher the sun is in the sky the better for you (see vitamin D below).
And if your hours are set make sure you get into the light for the break times you do have.
Encourage outdoor work time
Could any of your meetings take place outdoors? Perhaps if it’s not too windy you could swap a video call for a phone call and do it from the park?
If you have a team day, a one-to-one, or anything involving blue sky thinking – doing this from a footpath can encourage everyone to talk more freely, and be more imaginative. And the day will definitely be more memorable, whether blue sky is involved or not.
Greet autumn mindfully
If you see autumn as the beginning of the rubbish half of the year, and nothing more, have a go at looking at autumn mindfully. Every day is different at the moment – yesterday where I am the sun was really warm and the shadows were bitterly cold; today it’s damp and the air feels soft. Last month there were green spiky conkers on the ground, and the bristly sweet chestnuts fell a few weeks later. Go a little detour so you can rustle satisfyingly through fallen leaves. Or get out for a sunrise walk to see the morning sun come in at a slant. Notice the smells and sounds too.
Get the right kit
Make sure your shoes can withstand puddles, your umbrella isn’t skeletal, your hat is warm, and get waterproof trousers if need be. I recommend fleece-lined wellies (think farmer’s co-op rather than fashion brand to save a fortune). Does your jacket need re-waterproofing? It’s worth doing! And then put gloves in the pocket ready.
Could you be SAD?
Do you get depressed in winter, with sadness, lethargy, difficulty concentrating, low sex drive and constant craving of carbohydrates, and find it hard to get up in the morning? If this sounds like you, to the extent that it’s really affecting your life, you may have seasonally affective disorder.
This is not yet well understood, but it may be that the lack of sunshine affects production of the hormones melatonin and serotonin which regulate sleep, appetite and mood, and messes with your circadian rhythm – your internal body clock.
Time in the light, exercise, and talking therapies can help – start by going to the GP. Many people also swear by SAD lamps. These are large lights 10 times more intense than an ordinary household bulb, that can stimulate the brain into producing less melatonin.
Take vitamin D
There is very little vitamin D in our food, so we need it to be made in the skin by exposure to sunlight. Because of where the UK is on the globe we are short of ultra-violet B for most of the year, and a national diet and nutrition survey found nearly half of the population to be deficient. This disproportionately affects people with darker skin, which produces less vitamin D.
Vitamin D helps absorb calcium from the gut, and low calcium can cause all sorts of problems. Bones can suffer of course, and muscles too, but there are also findings that suggest low levels of vitamin D could be connected to cancer, MS, and heart and circulatory disease.
It’s recommended by the government that everyone in the UK takes a vitamin D supplement in autumn and winter. People with dark skin, people who don’t spend much time outside, or people who keep their skin covered when outside are advised to take it year-round.
And of course… walk purposefully!
Being outside is widely documented to help with all aspects of mood and wellbeing. But we have an additional endorphin bump to offer. If you walk a Slow Way you get the warm fuzziness of actually creating a national walking network with your very footsteps.That’s a nice feelgood philanthropic sort of thing to do with your limited daylight hours.
And more immediately, there is something very satisfying about walking a Slow Way, checking it out, reviewing it, seeing it show up on your dashboard, and on the progress map in a new colour.
Dopamine bumps
Then there’s collecting snails (verified routes), filling in strategic gaps, getting messages back from people who walk your routes in the future, maybe making your own version of a route and uploading it if you fancy. Mentioning it on social media with the hashtag #slowways and getting messages from other people who know the route.
All of these things are high on dopamine hits – dopamine activates the reward pathway in the brain.
Which probably explains why our behind-the-scenes stats show that people who’ve walked three Slow Ways go on to walk many more – once you get started it can be hard to stop.
They feel so good! And that is just what you need for autumn.
Join in on this interactive sensory journey through North London, as seen, felt and heard by young people with learning disabilities
Roseanna Gooder from Swiss Cottage School applied for one of our ‘Tales of a Slow Way’ community storytelling awards. Here she shares some insights into the way the route was structured, the filming of the young people’s walk and how the opportunity to direct the film and exercise their creative talents is creating pathways to future employment. Their film, ‘A Sensory Journey through Camden’, is available to watch below.
Hi Roseanna, tell us about the walk
When I first introduced the walking route, one student couldn’t stop responding ‘long, long’ to the length of the route. This carried on for the majority of the walk but with a smile on his face!
Another highlight was watching the students illustrate and write what they were experiencing on the walk. One student draws so freely and I loved seeing him translate the church onto the page in his style.
Finally, it was amazing to be chosen to create this project through Slow Ways as visibility is so important for our young people, especially in the creative scene. We are just about to launch our offsite design studio (Studio SC) as part of our in-house EmployMEnt Pathway called Card & Design. The opportunity to be involved in projects like this expose the young people to different job roles and responsibilities that can foster their creative talents.
What did the young people involved think of the experience?
They really enjoyed it and were keen to use their senses, stopping to say ‘what can you see?’ or ‘I can hear…’ to explore along the way. They especially liked the canal section where you pass by London Zoo as you can see some of the animals.
Creating the voiceovers and illustrations to the story helped the students to consolidate the purpose of the walk and the story that we were creating. Having to re-record and take constructive feedback to ensure that they were happy with the end result was a great learning experience for them.
What were the most surprising things you found on the walk?
A huge wall of a jasmine vines! The smell was so strong. At first, we thought the plant was artificial but the closer we got we could smell that it was real! One of the students also found a fruit on the floor which stopped us all in our tracks while we guessed what it could be. We think it had fallen from a tree somewhere and it stayed in the video as we thought it would be an interesting experience in the Sensory Story that will accompany the video.
Do you have any top tips for schools/ colleges wanting to do a similar project?
We broke the walk into two sections which helped for a few reasons; it meant that we could take our time to explore different sensory elements and to create the illustrations. It also meant that we could recap on the first section and the purpose of the walk before going out again. In that way the students could have more ownership of the development of the story.
Choosing to present the project as a job through our EmployMEnt Pathway – Card & Design – worked really well. Each student had a role dependent on their skills and preferences for work e.g. the route planner, the film recorder, the voiceover team and the illustrator. Other schools or colleges could present it this way too, to educate about different roles within the creative and outdoor industries.
Will the project have a legacy and can you tell us a bit about this?
Yes – we are going to create a Sensory Story card to accompany the video we created. This is so that the experience of the Slow Ways walk is accessible to all of the pupils in our school. Some pupils cannot easily access the whole walk due to their health needs or their physical needs so we wanted to create a sensory experience that we could recreate in the classroom or on key parts of the walk.
The video will have a story card that goes with it which will encourage viewers to stop the video at key points for the team to expose the young people to the story through the use of their senses. For example, when the story passes Abbey Road the group will listen/dance to a Beatles song or when the story reaches the canal, the students will explore mirrors and torches through moving blue fabrics to symbolise the reflection of the water or feel real water in different ways whilst listening to calming sounds. There are many ways that the storyteller can be creative with props to stimulate a sensory experience of the walk.
Swiss Cottage School, Development and Research Centre is a community-maintained special needs school in the London Borough of Camden. Their research-informed curriculum and passionate community create innovative learning opportunities to promote holistic development
Last year we launched ‘Tales from a Slow Way’, a community stories initiative that enabled us to commission creatives and community groups to work together to produce original stories and content situated around Slow Ways walking routes. Each award included a donation to the organisation as well as a project fee to the creative. Together, the awarded projects map the sheer diversity of walkers across the UK and highlight the importance of forging new paths
Inspired to go on your own Slow Ways nature wandering? Why not sign up to walk and review Slow Ways. You can also find and follow us on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook
Something marvellous has happened – we’ve connected Birmingham to London with verified Slow Ways!
It’s a brilliant collective achievement, and we completed the effort way ahead of HS2!
If you are new to Slow Ways it’s not too late to help connect other towns and cities to the network. Read on to discover how you can help!
Thanks to the efforts of lots of volunteers, we’ve had a cluster of verified Slow Ways from Sheffield to Stratford-upon-Avon and another from Brighton to Oxford for some time. To make the connection between the two we just needed three people to check a single route – a missing link in the chain – between Chipping Norton and Shipston-on-Stour.
Thanks to Litehiker, Steve Litchfield and Lodge101 we’ve bridged that gap! It’s now possible to walk directly between Brighton, London, Birmingham and Sheffield.
Unlike HS2, we’re committed to making the connection between Manchester and Birmingham. We’re also committed to making connections between all of Britain’s towns and cities!
In fact, in our opinion, Slow Ways isn’t just quicker* than HS2, it’s also much much much:
more healthy
more enjoyable
more green
more zero carbon (really)
more wildlife friendly
more affordable to users (it’s free)
more light-touch on the landscape
more affordable to build
more memorable for walkers
more equitable
more collaborative
more connected to more communities
more of a good self-investment
So far 1 in 5 routes are verified – which means at least three people have walked, reviewed and approved them. We now need help with the rest, and they’re spread all over Britain.
By helping you’ll get some steps in, go for an adventure and give other people the confidence to follow in your footsteps. Everyone wins.
The routes have already been drawn, to help:
Choose a route from this website
Walk it
Review it
Watch this video to find out more!
You don’t need any special skills. Just the ability to walk the route you choose to walk.
iPhone users can now download the Slow Ways Makers app from the App Store
The release of the iPhone app means it is easier than ever before to use Slow Ways. On the app, it’s easy to explore the Slow Ways network, choose a route, and even track your progress towards finishing the route. You can view reviews and photos and submit your own, make waylists and see your walk history. In fact most of the features of the Slow Ways website are now available on the app, with an Android version also in the works. Below the Slow Ways technical team answers your questions about the app.
Who is the app designed for? It’s for anyone with an iPhone who’s interested in Slow Ways and helping us check and review the 8000+ routes that currently make up the Slow Ways network.
Which features are you most excited to see walkers using? Being able to access the Slow Ways map and all the details about a route from the palm of your hand is pretty exciting. People will hopefully enjoy how easy it is to browse the map, pick a route, walk it and leave a review and photos.
Do the website and the app have different purposes or features? The main focus of both is the same – to encourage people to chose a walk, walk it and review it. The challenge with the app was to bring as much functionality from the website to mobile as possible, whilst optimising the experience so that it works as an iPhone user would expect. As it’s running on an iPhone, we’ve also been able to introduce functionality that can make use of your actual location and can help you navigate a route in real time, telling you if you go off track, or when you’ve finished a route for example.
Will the app content still be available if the user loses signal during a walk? If you plan ahead! You can download a copy of the route that you can use during a walk if you have no signal. In order to use most features of the app though, like leaving a review or browsing the network, you will need a connection.
Is it free of charge? Will there be any additional charges involved? It is completely free. There are no in-app purchases or subscription charges to use any of the features.
The Slow Ways app features GPS tracking: how does this affect users’ privacy? If you want to see your location on the map, or if you want to use the app to navigate a route, you need to give it permission to your location. This information stays on your device; we don’t know where you are.
And how does the app’s location tracking affect iPhone battery usage? The app is designed to be as battery efficient as possible, but as with any navigation app, frequent GPS usage can drain the battery quickly. If you use the app for navigation, don’t have it in your hand all the time. If there is a path ahead for a mile, just turn off the screen, and put your phone in your pocket. It will still track your position in the background and should notify you with a vibration or a sound if you go off-track. Always carry a paper map or print-out of the route as a backup, or a portable charger if you’re worried about battery.
Do you think the Slow Ways app will increase the number of verified routes? We hope that the availability of the app on the App Store will lead to increased discovery of Slow Ways potentially by lots of people, who wouldn’t necessarily have found Slow Ways via other means. I hope that being able to use the app to help navigate a route in the field will further encourage people to get out and about. Hopefully this will all lead to more sign ups, more walks and more reviews.
Thanks team! Click here to down the Slow Ways app. You can also find and follow us on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook.
Surfing in southeast Scotland is about as far from the barrelling waves of Hawaii or sun-kissed California as you can get; nonetheless, there’s an ever-growing community of committed (and often cold) surfers between Dunbar and Eyemouth
Journalist David Lyons and photographer Mike Guest walked the 42km Duneye one route over two days, heading southeast from Dunbar to Eyemouth, passing through the three main surfing beaches on this coast; Belhaven Bay, Pease Bay and Coldingham Bay where, they write, “The weather is cold, the water is colder and the waves are fickle”. The walk connects the two surf shops in the area: Coast to Coast Surf School at Belhaven Bay and St Vedas Surf Shop at Coldingham Bay.
Together, Dave’s interviews and Mike’s photography resulted in the Slow Waves zine. The stories in the beautifully designed zine are all connected to the beaches they walked on their route and present a snapshot of a thriving surf community and its history.
The zine is available to pre-order now. Below is a preview of some of the stories and photography you might find
The walk began at Coast to Coast Surf School on Belhaven Bay, an expansive beach at the west end of Dunbar. Sam Christopherson founded Coast to Coast and led the development of the Belhaven community surf centre. The centre was originally designed as a surf school, but has evolved to be home to a range of different organisations: the surf therapy charity Wave Project’s Scottish headquarters, Dunbar Surf Lifesaving Club, Belhaven Surf Club, Wilder Outdoor Education and Kosa Yoga.
In the future we’ll have lots of local kids that grew up to have good knowledge of the sea and are looking after their environment
Sam hopes the surf centre can serve as a focal point for establishing a positive, sustainable relationship between the local community and the beach: “With all these things happening from one space, they cross fertilise ideas; so in the future we’ll have lots of local kids that grew up to have good knowledge of the sea and are looking after their environment.”
“There’s a lot of people that have come with a lot of knowledge that are all feeding the same kind of culture, so hopefully when I finally retire and hang my boots up, there’s a good community left to look after and manage what is a beautiful coastline.”
Wave Project Scotland supports vulnerable young people through surf therapy and is run by Alison Young, who said the community that has grown around the charity in Belhaven is what has enabled it to thrive: “It’s about making connections, with the ocean, with the other young people and with the volunteers. It’s such a supportive space. I mean, the kids are going to fall off – everyone falls off – but when you do it here you get a big cheer and a high five and we get them back on to try again. I can’t think of a nicer place to be – a beautiful beach and a fabulous group of people trying to make the world a little bit better.”
Alison Young, Wave Project Scotland
It’s about making connections, with the ocean, with the other young people and with the volunteers. It’s such a supportive space
Robyn was supported by the Wave Project when she was 15. Her story of the impact the Wave Project’s surf therapy had on her is the most moving interview we held for this project. Robyn said: “[Before the surf therapy] I wouldn’t go anywhere. I wouldn’t leave the house. Sometimes I couldn’t leave my bedroom. I was too scared to do anything. I’d been struggling for a while, since I was maybe eight. I was undiagnosed autistic and I had a lot of big feelings that I wasn’t able to deal with.”
By the end of the course, Robyn found she was able to begin opening up and feel confident in the group: “I was still really anxious until maybe the fifth week, but I started to ease into it. Then I remember crying home on the sixth week when the course had finished, because it was finally a place I could just be myself. I didn’t have to pretend to be anything else. I didn’t have to act a certain way and I didn’t have to hide. I could just be me.” Robyn now volunteers for the Wave Project, helping other people benefit from the charity’s surf therapy.
Sally Harris, Groundswell
Framed by dramatic red sandstone cliffs at either side, Pease Bay has the reputation of being the best surfing beach on this coast. Here we spoke to Sally Harris from Groundswell Scotland, a charity providing surf therapy programmes to support women and non-binary people recovering from trauma. Participants can self-refer to Groundswell Scotland courses, but the majority come through partnerships with other organisations, including Edinburgh Rape Crisis, the NHS and the Ridge, a charity which supports vulnerable people in East Lothian.
When you work with people and see what the sea does for them […] it’s the most powerful, purposeful work I could ever want to be involved in
The journey of one participant referred by Edinburgh Rape Crisis demonstrates the healing experience Sally is seeking to provide: “She’d lost all her confidence and had to leave her job because of what she’d been through. The course has completely changed her life around – now she’s going out by herself again and she’s made some really positive decisions about what she wants to do next.”
“When you work with people and see what the sea does for them and that they’ve now got a place they can come to, that they’ve connected deeply with themselves, it’s the most powerful, purposeful work I could ever want to be involved in.” The participant is now going to join the Groundswell Scotland steering group to input into the charity’s work.
We knew the stories we’d hear would take us to some unexpected places. Somewhere we definitely didn’t expect to be taken was the middle aisle of Aldi, but that’s exactly where our interview with Martin McQueenie ended up; the detour serves as a great example of the breadth of Martin’s involvement in surfing in the southeast of Scotland.
In 2018, Aldi made an advert celebrating the multiverse of nonsense you can buy in its middle aisle. Included in this ad was a wetsuit, which was featured in a scene of a middle-aged British Asian man from Lancashire learning to surf. The scene was shot at Pease Bay and Martin was the person employed to take care of water safety for the shoot.
Like many people before and after him, the actor had Martin to thank for his experience of surfing at Pease Bay
Unfortunately the ad was shot in April, when the water temperature at Pease Bay is around 7°C and Aldi’s wetsuit was only 2 millimetres thick. For those not familiar with wetsuits, a 2mil wetsuit is designed for water temperatures of 15+°C. So although the man in the final ad looks to be having a lovely time when he delivers the line “It’s a bargain!”, that’s largely because he’s wearing Martin’s winter wetsuit underneath the Aldi wetsuit. Like many people before and after him, the actor had Martin to thank for his experience of surfing at Pease Bay.
L & R: Martin McQueenie, Momentum
Beyond keeping actors warm by lending them his wetsuit, it’s hard to overstate Martin’s contribution to the southeast of Scotland surf scene. A non-exhaustive list includes running Momentum surf school, fixing and shaping boards, training coast guards and running RNLI water safety sessions in schools, coaching the Scottish junior surf team, helping organise the Scottish Surfing Championships and most recently supporting the development of Lost Shore, an artificial surf park being built in Ratho, Edinburgh.
All those hardcore surfers have now got kids, and mum, dad and children are all out surfing. It’s a lot more family oriented. It’s really amazing to see
The last stop on our walk was Coldingham Bay, where Steve Powner has run St Vedas Surf Shop since 2002. Steve said seeing young people he’s helped teach to surf now lifeguard the beach he works at is a small part of a much larger shift in the local surfing community over recent years: “When we started, there was really just a small group of hardcore surfers, who were all youngsters. Now there’s a lot more families getting into it – all those hardcore surfers have now got kids and mum, dad and children are all out surfing. It’s a lot more family oriented. It’s really amazing to see.”
“I was teaching a group lesson the other day and there was a kid out with his dad, maybe six or seven years old. His dad would push him into a wave, then he would pop up and weave his way through all the surfers I was teaching. They all just stood in awe. It’s lovely to see the kids out there mixing it with the adults.”
L & R: Elspeth Simpson, Surfers Against Sewage
Environmental charity Surfers Against Sewage (SAS) are active along this coastline and SAS volunteer Elspeth Simpson, who also volunteers with Wave Project, articulated how immersing herself in the surf community has changed the focus of activity: “Through volunteering it’s gone beyond just surfing, it’s now about being part of this lovely community and going beyond the hedonistic self-pursuit of surfing and contributing to bigger causes – the social impact of Wave Project and the environmental impact of SAS. That’s why I keep doing it.”
Slow Waves is not a spot guide and you won’t find any stories of gnarly waves and epic sessions. This isn’t even really about surfing – it’s a collection of stories celebrating the ways the surfing community along this coast is making a positive impact far beyond the confines of the sport itself.
Mike Guest is a photographer from Edinburgh and self-confessed salt water addict. As well as working for major brands, Mike works with community initiatives, including recently facilitating a group of young creatives in Caithness exploring their relationship with the ocean.
Dave Lyons is a writer and charity communications professional who surfs regularly on beaches between Dunbar and Eyemouth. He has written about surfing in Scotland previously, most recently for Adventure Uncovered and Scottish Island Explorer.
Last year we launched “Tales from a Slow Way,” a community stories initiative that enabled us to commission creatives and community groups to work together to produce original stories and content situated around Slow Ways walking routes. Each award included a donation to the organisation as well as a project fee to the creative. Together, the awarded projects map the sheer diversity of walkers across the UK and highlight the importance of forging new paths.
Click here to find out more about our Tales from a Slow Ways project!Why not sign up to walk and review Slow Ways. You can also find and follow us on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook.
Phil Le Marquand is walking 375 miles from London to Gateshead, all on Slow Ways, for a homelessness charity he was surprised to discover he’d helped set up 40 years ago
What inspired you to walk from London to Gateshead?
I wanted to do something for Oasis Community Housing. Because walking is what I wanted to do in my retirement, doing a sponsored walk seemed the logical thing to offer.
Why did you pick these start and finish points?
Oasis Community Housing has projects in South London and in Gateshead – where I live and where it started. It seemed logical to start and finish at those points. I could’ve done any walk and got sponsorship but this route focused specifically on the work of the charity. The start and finish points as well as the Peterborough project are on or just adjacent to Slow Ways routes.
Phil at the Lincolnshire halfway point. Go Phil!The Great Ouse, a favourite bit so far
I don’t think I’d have done this particular walk without Slow Ways. It made planning a route reasonably straightforward, especially with the routing function.
What have been your most memorable Slow Ways walks to date?
On this journey, I can’t choose. Every day has had its delights.
Walking up the Great Ouse was beautiful. A random stranger gave me a cup of tea and I got stung by a wasp!
Apart from that, my very first one, Gatspr one, Gateshead to Springwell. I discovered bits of my local area I had no idea existed.
What stretch are you most looking forward to?
I think from County Durham onwards. Because it is home territory and I know the end is nigh! Also I know there will be friends and supporters joining me for some of these later stages.
What’s stretch are you least looking forward to?
At the moment the flat lands of Lincolnshire though I am prepared to have my mind changed. I try to see the beauty and value in every kind of landscape.
(And sure enough we got the following update from Phil today: “I came up with this answer as something to say. Lincolnshire has been a joy from start to almost-finish. I have enjoyed every part of the journey apart from sore feet.”)
Can you tell us a bit about Oasis Community Housing and why you chose to support them?
I had begun going to my local parish church St Albans, Windy Nook and they announced a Lent activity to ‘walk a mile in their shoes’ to support the work of Oasis Community Housing. OCH is a Christian homelessness charity with its headquarters in Gateshead and working across North East England and South London.
I realised this had grown out of Aquila Housing Association which I had helped start forty or so years ago with the aim of helping homeless young people. I had lost touch over the years but was excited to realise how God could take our small actions and multiply their effectiveness.
“There are times too when I’m tired and my feet are sore that I question why I am putting myself through this bit then I think of the tents I saw on my way into Peterborough and the homeless man I spoke to and then there is no doubt that I am doing the right thing”
Oasis Community Housing was so much more than I ever envisaged at the beginning. I had the privilege of visiting three of the local projects with David Smith the CEO and Phil Conn the Director of Chaplaincy. I was so impressed by the professionalism, dedication and faith of the workers I met. Also I was impressed by the emphasis they put on dealing with the whole of the homeless person, treating them as individuals and not just providing something like a flat or a service.
I wanted to do something to help and because I love walking that seemed the logical thing to do.
How did you find out about Slow Ways?
I think I read an early article in the Guardian which mentioned calling for volunteers to create the routes. I read subsequent articles and stuff online. The idea just seemed to make sense, as walking was going to be a big part of my retirement. Then I discovered a Slow Way passed the end of my street. The rest is history.
Why do you walk?
I love the natural world and also to view the interaction of humans with nature past and present for good or bad. Around where I live is mainly a post-industrial semi-wild landscape. I love too the history and culture. Above all though it gives me a chance to think and let my mind go free. I can often improve my mood just with a short walk.
Have you had any interesting or serendipitous encounters while out walking?
In addition to the workers at the charity projects who are awesome, there have been:
The lovely congregation of the church at Watton-at-Stone who were so welcoming and let me charge my phone and gave me breakfast too.
The coffee shop owner and the laundrette in Sotfold. I felt like I was drawn into the community.
The random stranger who made me a cup of tea when she saw me sitting on a bench having a break.
The Ukrainian lady in Huntingdon who was so enthusiastic.
Have you embarked on any other long-distance walks?
Last year I walked St Cuthbert’s Way, 100km from Melrose to Holy Island. This was my first real backpacking walk. It was in a bit of a heatwave too. Beautiful scenery, finishing with a barefoot walk across the sands to Holy Island.
Earlier this year I walked 500 miles on the Camino Frances to Santiago de Compostela in Spain. This was a personal pilgrimage and I was awed by the scenery, the history and the culture as well as the joy of walking with people from all over the world. It was inspiring meeting so many wonderful people.
Do you prefer to walk alone or with others?
I think I prefer to walk alone as I can walk at my own pace and have time to think. However I really enjoy walking with others for the conversations and the joy of shared experiences.
Growing up, did you often go for walks with your family?
Walking wasn’t really something we did as a family. I gained a taste for it at university and afterwards a bit. I remember walks in the Lake District and Teesdale.
Trying out the camping kit before departure. Phil is camping most nights – and it’s a pretty damp autumn so far
Do you have any tips or advice for anyone who is interested in long-distance walking?
Give yourself plenty of time and don’t push yourself too hard. Go slow and enjoy what you are walking through.
Find the footwear that works for you and stick with it.
Be flexible.
And lastly, where can people donate and what other ways can they support you in your journey?
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