Frequently asked questions

Technically there’s nothing to it: no scrambling, no glaciers, mostly paths, sometimes bog and road. What makes it hard is the length. 1,766 km means walking every day for six to ten weeks with a full pack, in the rain too, and when your feet have had enough. The toughest part in the north for us was the John o’ Groats Trail (overgrown, hardly any waymarks southbound, wet feet for days); the Great Glen Way, on the other hand, is almost a stroll. Each trail page has a short profile of what to expect.

Don’t underestimate the wind. On Yes Tor on Dartmoor it nearly blew us away, and on the ridge of the Black Mountains (Offa’s Dyke) we almost lost the tent one night. It never gets alpine like in Switzerland, though.

Less than you’d think. If you’re fit, you can do it without much training; just plan a few extra days and shorter stages at the start. Trail legs come surprisingly fast. What’s worth practising: walking all day with a pack (your whole life is in there, after all) and getting on with your gear. Knowing what you need and, above all, what you don’t, and then being ruthless about leaving it at home. That was the biggest challenge for us. Our first trip in 2016 on the West Highland Way was in jeans, with a far too big tent and a pocket knife that would have done for three. It gets better, you learn.

What you really need to watch is your body. Tired means clumsy, especially on rough ground, and that’s when injuries happen. On the John o’ Groats Trail our joints complained (you often walk at an angle along the slope), later our shins. A PCT first? You don’t need one. For us this was the test of whether ultra-long hiking is our thing at all. It is.

If you’re fit and love being outdoors: very likely. If you don’t fancy being wet, sweaty, dirty and smelly: probably not. You go without a lot, because only what you can carry fits in. You spend a lot of time alone with your thoughts, even as a pair. And there are boring days with nothing but road, just as there are the really beautiful ones. You need to be able to live with that mix. It got us hooked.

Depends on your pace. At 25 km a day it’s a good 70 walking days, at 32 km around 56, at 40 km about 45. We took 49 walking days plus 3 rest days (30 June to 20 August 2025). In the day planner you set your pace and rest days and see roughly where you’ll end up each evening.

Summer. We set off from John o’ Groats on 30 June and liked it: up north it barely gets dark, and you can walk as long as you want. Earlier would work too; then we’d try to get through the Highlands before midge season. Going north in spring works too (that’s the classic LEJOG direction), but then you reach the Highlands right in midge season.

Our weather in 2025: the first week wet, properly wet. Then a record summer. From the Great Glen and West Highland Way the sun was blazing, a few rainy days in the Pennines (still mud everywhere), and from the end of the Pennine Way it was hot pretty much all the time, too hot if anything. We wouldn’t count on that. Why we walk north to south is on the page Why Lizard Point?.

One week: the West Highland Way (154 km). The classic, well waymarked, with Glen Coe and the Devil’s Staircase; that’s where we started back in 2016. Alternatively the East Highland Way or, if you want it really wild, the Cape Wrath Trail. We only know those two by hearsay, though.

Two weeks: the Offa’s Dyke Path (285 km; we walked the part over the Black Mountains). Of all the trails, that’s the one we’d recommend most.

Four weeks: the John o’ Groats Trail, Great Glen Way and West Highland Way in one go, a good 500 km from the northern tip to Milngavie near Glasgow. South to north works just as well. Or the whole Pennine Way (431 km).

The connecting stretches in between, and our route through Somerset, Devon and Cornwall, we wouldn’t walk as a trip of their own. They’re good for getting somewhere, but not worth flying in for.

The big trails (West Highland Way, Great Glen Way, Pennine Way, Offa’s Dyke) are waymarked; in between, the waymarking is patchy or missing. We navigated by phone only: Organic Maps (still the best for us), Pocket Earth as a second app, both on the iPhone, all maps offline. Google Maps just to check whether there’s another shop somewhere. There’s a GPX for the whole route, for each trail and for each of our days under Route & GPX.

We had no paper maps. Lots of people swear by them, and yes, we’ve read the horror stories too. But in 2026 phones are reliable enough, and in fog paper only helps if you can actually use a map and compass. Most of the time you can see the path 50 to 100 m ahead, even when the fog rolls in on the high moors; it never got critical for us. That’s our experience, with our weather. Decide for yourself what makes you feel safe. The one thing that matters: manage your battery (see below).

That’s the name for the official long-distance paths in England and Wales (National Trails). They’re waymarked all the way and well looked after. On our route, that’s the Pennine Way and the Offa’s Dyke Path. Scotland has Scotland’s Great Trails instead; for us the West Highland Way, the Great Glen Way, the Southern Upland Way and St Cuthbert’s Way. In between, we link the trails with smaller regional paths and sometimes a bit of road; that’s where the GPX helps most.

In England and Wales you walk on public rights of way: legal paths, often across farmers’ fields and pasture. Footpaths (yellow arrows) are for walkers, bridleways (blue arrows) for horses and bikes too; on foot you can use all of them. They’re shown on Ordnance Survey maps (GOV.UK). Close gates behind you and give cows with calves a wide berth. On moorland, heath and hills in England you also have the right to roam (open access land), but camping isn’t included (GOV.UK). In Scotland you can walk almost anywhere as long as you follow the Scottish Outdoor Access Code.

In Scotland, yes: the Scottish Outdoor Access Code allows small tents for a few nights, well away from buildings and roads. There are exceptions, such as the permit zones at Loch Lomond. In England and Wales you officially need the landowner’s permission. To be honest, we never asked anyone, but we never had any trouble either. People over there are hugely into walking, many have done a route like this themselves, and by far most don’t mind a tent that goes up late and is gone early. As long as you don’t behave like an idiot: no litter, no fire, no climbing over walls or fences, not in among the animals. And if someone comes along and doesn’t want you there, you chat, pack up and move on. If you’d rather not, there are campsites, hostels and youth hostels along the way. More under Sleeping out.

Usually a shop every day or two; up north and on the Pennine Way sometimes nothing for longer. We usually carried two or three days of food, and that was often too much; there were more shops than we expected. Only in a few places do you really need three or four days’ worth. How much you carry depends on how much fresh food matters to you and whether you eat in pubs. We got almost everything from supermarkets.

Water: we had a filter (Sawyer Mini) but used it far less than planned. 2025 was hot and dry, lots of streams on the map were nearly empty, and what was still running was often an odd colour and had just come through a cow or sheep field. Filter or not, we didn’t fancy it. So we bought drinks wherever we could, drank as much as possible on the spot and always kept at least a litre in reserve. Each trail page lists shops and water under “Stages” and “On the way”; the day planner shows the last shop for each day.

You don’t, really. You will stink; that’s part of it. The only question is how often you want a shower, and that decides how often you go to campsites or hostels. What helped us: merino. A merino shirt still smells bearable after days and washes out quickly. Synthetics start to whiff much sooner and need rinsing all the time; we wouldn’t take them. Deodorant gets slated in forums (“you’ll stink anyway”); Patrick used it all the same and reckons it helped.

We did laundry in rivers with biodegradable wash gel, and properly with hot water in hostels. And then there are the shoes. After a few days of bog they stink like nothing else. Patrick wasn’t prepared for that.

Via a power bank. Patrick carried a 20,000 mAh one for phone and head torch, plus a small solar panel strapped to the back of his pack during the day. Key point: the panel charges the power bank, not the phone. The power bank picks up again as soon as the sun comes back after a cloud; the phone stops and wants the cable plugged in again. Otherwise: better too much power than too little, charge at every socket and save where you can (Patrick used wired earphones instead of Bluetooth, for example). That way we never had a problem, even though we navigated by phone only.

Mostly yes; in the Highlands and on the moors it’s often slow or briefly gone. At least once a day there was always enough for photos and WhatsApp, and we had enough for an emergency call everywhere. Patrick used an eSIM with a cheap data plan instead of roaming; no problems at all. Still bring a power bank and offline maps.

For us they showed up from Inverness onwards, in their thousands in Glen Nevis in the evening; further south they were replaced by horseflies. They’re worst on still days, in the morning and evening. In 2025 they were much tamer for us than in 2016 on the West Highland Way; the head net spent less time on our heads than expected. We’d still always take it: 24 g. There’s a forecast at Smidge.

Hardly any up north, but plenty down south. In Somerset, Devon and Cornwall we really had our hands full. Patrick treated his clothes, socks and shoes with permethrin beforehand and was very happy with it. Whether that was the permethrin or just that there aren’t many ticks up north, we can’t say. We’d do it again. Careful if you have cats: permethrin is highly toxic to them. Still check yourself every evening; the NHS explains how to remove a tick properly.

Less than you’d think. We spent around €2,500 each, everything included: flights, trains, buses, food, campsites, hostels, the odd hotel. About €700 of that went on getting from Hamburg to John o’ Groats and back home from Lizard Point (the flights alone were around €500). That leaves roughly €35 a day. Honestly, life at home would have cost more. We already had most of our gear, so that’s not included.

For reference: a double room in a hotel usually cost us £90 to £120, a bed in a youth hostel £30 to £50 per person. For two, that’s sometimes almost the same. The budget calculator works with your days, how you want to sleep and the gear you still need.

We can only judge that to a point; we’re two men. We met women walking alone, and they didn’t seem to find it particularly dangerous. We also think you’re a lot safer out there than in a city. In a tent nobody can see who’s inside, a grizzly bear of a man or a slight woman. If you’re a bit careful and pick spots where you won’t be seen, you’re pretty safe. Probably safer than in a youth hostel dorm. We ourselves hardly ever felt uneasy at night.

Dial 999 or 112. In the hills or on the moors, ask for “Police”, then “Mountain Rescue”. Note down first: where you are (coordinates from your map app), who is hurt and how, how many of you there are, your mobile number. Then stay where you are until the rescue team contacts you (Mountain Rescue England and Wales). If you’re deaf, hard of hearing or speech-impaired, you can text 999, but you have to register your phone beforehand (Relay UK). For less urgent medical questions, call the NHS on 111.

We had travel health insurance but no satellite messenger (one of those Garmin things lots of people carry). On this route we found it unnecessary, since you have enough signal for an emergency call almost everywhere. What we think matters much more: don’t be alone when you’re off the beaten track. Walking solo is surely a great experience, but if something happens, you’ll be very glad someone’s there. If you’re going alone, you might see the gadget differently.

Yes; almost everywhere you’re within a day or two of a station or bus. We rode a few stretches ourselves (through Glasgow and around Bristol); which ones and how is on Route & GPX. Getting home is covered under Getting there & back.