I’m Australian through and through, but I have a long-standing love affair with Britain. I lived there for a time, one branch of my family tree reaches back to Britain and, somehow, I keep finding reasons to return. It’s the history, the countryside, the humour, the culture, the fashion, the food and all those wonderfully eccentric differences from one county to the next.
Living in Australia makes me appreciate Britain even more. Here, my summer mornings often begin with Kookaburras laughing from the gum trees at dawn before the relentless heat takes over the day. Britain wakes differently. The birds tweet instead of being quite so loud, the sun whispers good morning and I love that I can head outdoors at any time of day. From spring through to autumn, I could happily spend every day walking.
People often ask why I love walking holidays and they’re usually surprised by my answer as I don’t really think of myself as a hiker. I simply love walking and being in amongst it — smelling the sea before you see it, hearing church bells drift across a valley, stopping to admire a cottage garden because nobody is hurrying you along.
One of my favourite walks is from a tiny Devon village called Ringmore. The path winds down towards Ayrmer Cove, passing curious sheep that stop chewing long enough to decide whether you’re worth watching and rabbits hop through the long grass, their white tails flashing in the sunshine. You can hear the sea before it comes into view and when the cove finally opens up in front of you, you stop for a while and simply take it all in.
Eventually it’s time to wander back up the hill to the Journey’s End, a thirteenth-century pub that has been welcoming travellers for centuries. If there’s a chill in the air the fire is already lit, boots are loosened and a glass of wine and lunch somehow taste even better after the morning outdoors.
When we created our Great British Adventures, this became the philosophy behind our journeys. Of course we visit places everyone dreams of seeing – the Cotswolds, the Lake District, the Scottish Highlands and beyond to Cornwall and Devon. But I’ve always believed the moments in between are just as important as the famous towns and villages.
And Britain really is designed for walkers. The public footpaths, the villages and the history encourage curiosity. You cross a farmer’s paddock wondering whether you’re actually allowed to be there before remembering that’s exactly how the footpath system works. You push open the door of a centuries-old church because it’s open, not because someone told you to visit. You wander through churchyards reading names on weathered gravestones or call into a village bakery because something smells too good to walk past.
One morning you’re wandering through the elegant streets of Bath before someone reminds you that the Romans were bathing there almost two thousand years ago. A few days later you’re exploring Sudeley Castle, where Catherine Parr — Henry VIII’s sixth wife and the only one clever enough to outlive him — is buried, and suddenly she becomes real, not just a name in a history book. That’s the Britain I love. Accessible and endlessly interesting.
The Lake District has a similar effect on me. No matter how many times I return, it always feels different. Sometimes the lakes are mirror calm, sometimes the clouds sit low across the fells and sometimes the sun appears just long enough to light up the landscape before disappearing again. On our very first Great British Adventure I found myself standing beside one of the lakes just absorbing the beauty, because every now and then a place simply asks you to stop and be.
Scotland, Stories and the Confidence to Keep Going
Every part of Britain has its own personality and Scotland feels completely different again. It’s a landscape that encourages you to slow your pace, breathe a little deeper and simply enjoy being outdoors.
One of the highlights of our time in the Highlands is spending time with author and chef Ghillie Basan. Before we even step into her kitchen, we head out into the countryside to forage. Walking through the landscape with someone who knows every plant, herb and berry changes the way you look at the Highlands. What most of us would simply walk past becomes food or flavour and suddenly the countryside tells a completely different story.
By the time we return to her home we’re ready for a wee dram of whisky before gathering around the kitchen to prepare dinner. There’s no formality to it — just stories, laughter and wonderful Scottish hospitality. These are the experiences I love most because they allow us to connect with people, learning about their lives rather than simply passing through.
The same is true when we spend time with the women who run one of the local crofts. Both left cities and careers to build a completely different life in the Highlands. They’ll tell you it isn’t easy. Living from the land demands hard work, resilience and a willingness to adapt to the seasons. Ask them if they would go back and the answer comes back with a firm ‘Never’.
Of course, walking isn’t always sunshine and blue skies. One afternoon in the Cotswolds the weather changed in what felt like seconds. We went from happily chatting our way along the trail to twelve women frantically trying to wrestle waterproof jackets out of backpacks as the rain swept across the fields. There wasn’t much elegance involved, just plenty of laughter as everyone accepted that getting wet was inevitable. We eventually reached the village looking a little windswept and a little more dishevelled than planned, but it’s still a story that makes me smile.
And it’s these shared moments that have a wonderful way of bringing people together.
Somewhere between the first coffee in the morning and dinner that evening, conversations begin to unfold naturally. Books, children, life, heartbreak, travel dreams and the ridiculous cow that refused to let us through the gate all become part of the day’s conversation. Walking side by side somehow removes the awkwardness of getting to know new people. Friendships develop without anyone really noticing when it happened. Sometimes there isn’t much conversation at all, because it isn’t required.
A favourite memory from our very first Great British Adventure belongs to Susie. Ben Rinnes is one of the more challenging walks on the itinerary and, standing at the base of the mountain, she wasn’t sure she’d make it to the summit. Our hiking guide stayed with her, encouraging her to keep going, and little by little she got there. Susie stood on top of Ben Rinnes looking across the Highlands, and her smile said everything.
When our first guests returned home, many of their comments reflected exactly what I had hoped these journeys would become.
Michelle wrote, ‘Everything! The chosen activities were varied and enjoyable but I appreciated that there wasn’t pressure to participate if you didn’t want to. I adored this group of women. The hikes were a highlight for me and Nicola was the perfect guide. I also loved all the excursions and not feeling rushed. Andrea, this trip was amazing!’
Jane summed it up beautifully too. ‘A very enjoyable trip – lots of special moments including time in the crofts. Great guides, really fun group to travel with. Accommodation was lovely and delicious meals. Would definitely recommend.’
Reading those words reminded me that people rarely remember how many kilometres they walked. They remember the people they met and how those days made them feel.
Why I Keep Going Back
People often ask how many times I’ve been to Britain. The truth is, I’ve lost count, and I suspect it is dozens of times.
Every visit uncovers somewhere new for me. A village I’d never heard of. A footpath leading to an unexpected view. A new local designer boutique tucked away in the most unexpected place. A pub where the locals are more interested in hearing where you’ve walked that day than where you’ve travelled from. A piper busking something beautiful that just holds you (I know they’re not for everyone but I love them).
For a country that isn’t particularly large, Britain has an extraordinary ability to keep surprising me.
When we first created Great British Adventures, I hoped guests would come home with stories like these — not a kilometre count.
Britain has given me friendships, favourite places and is where, unexpectedly, I fell in love. Every visit reminds me that slowing down allows us to experience a country in a completely different way.
Britain has become part of my soul. And that’s why I keep inviting other women to come and walk with us.