The Walk I Didn't Take

The Path Project | Leg 2 | October 2026

Planned Hunter Inn to Woolacombe 21.3 miles vs Actual 0 miles

The overwhelming feeling I had before setting off for Devon this time was that I just needed to get away.

I wasn't really thinking about the project, what I wanted to explore or what I might learn. I wasn't thinking about interviews or social media content. In fact, I hadn't even told anyone other than friends and family I was going walking this weekend.

I just really wanted to go.

After the first leg in September, I'd been looking forward to getting back onto the South West Coast Path. I'd found that first walk much harder than I'd anticipated, particularly physically, and I'd come away realising that I needed to build my capacity and prepare better. My knee had been giving me trouble, a diagnosed torn meniscus and I'd been working hard at my rehabilitation, and I was hoping I'd be able to get a bit further this time. I was disappointed I hadn’t made as much progress the first leg and was also aware that the next leg after this one was with my brother and I wanted to walk a route with him that would be considered more enjoyable (read less undulating).

The plan for this leg was to walk from Hunter's Inn to Combe Martin and then onwards towards Woolacombe.

We'd decided to combine the trip with October half-term, bringing the children, Toby, my mother-in-law and Rufus, our Labrador (6 month post elbow replacement).

We drove down in beautiful sunshine, stopped at Castle Coombe. I was excited. At one point I was even imagining going for a swim when we arrived.

And then the storm arrived.

A wash out

Somehow, I'd completely missed the arrival of Storm Austen.

By Thursday evening, the rain was hammering down and the forecast was looking pretty horrendous.

I was nervous about walking.

What if I slipped? What if the wind was so strong that I was blown off a cliff? What if something fell on me?

I know I've become more risk-averse since having children, and I found myself questioning whether this was another example of that, or whether I was actually being sensible.

I'd come all this way to walk. The thought of not walking was really upsetting.

But then I started questioning what I was actually doing this for.

Yes, there's a physical challenge involved in walking 630 miles before I'm 50. But I couldn’t help feeling that walking and the decision to walk wasn’t supposed to be rushed or stressful or hard.

I was doing this to achieve something meaningful. I wanted to explore purpose, meaning and identity, particularly how we navigate uncertainty and change. I wanted to evolve and grow through the experience.

So what did that mean in this situation? There was change and there was uncertainty.

Should I walk despite the weather? Was that what pushing myself and growing looked like?

Or might I actually learn more by choosing not to?

I went to bed not really knowing.

The decision not to walk

On Friday, we didn't walk.

And I'm really glad we didn't.

It was incredibly gusty, and I know it wouldn’t have been safe on those exposed cliff tops.

What surprised me was that I wasn't nearly as disappointed as I'd expected.

It was actually quite nice to slow down and spend time with the children.

The only thing I really noticed was that I felt a bit antsy about not moving.

By Saturday, though, I felt quite differently.

It was raining, but it wasn't particularly windy where we were. And suddenly I was questioning whether I could have walked after all.

The problem was that we'd already planned the day around not walking.

We'd organised things for the children, and I found myself wandering around an industrial estate in Barnstaple with Rufus, in the drizzle, while the boys were doing their activities.

And I felt really quite fed up.

Here I was, in Devon, surrounded by some of the most beautiful coastline in the country, walking around a car park.

What a wasted opportunity.

Had I used the weather as an easy way out?

Would I actually have enjoyed walking in the rain?

Should I have pushed through?

But then there was my knee. And the slippery ground. And the fact that the weather on the cliffs could have been quite different.

I just didn't know.

And I think that was one of the hardest things. Not knowing whether I'd made the right decision.

When the plan doesn't go to plan

Something else was bothering me.

I'd already had to change the route on my first trip, leaving a gap between Porlock Weir and Lynmouth.

I'd felt uncomfortable about that at the time.

I'd imagined walking the South West Coast Path in order, following the guidebook, completing each section before moving on to the next.

And here I was, only on my second trip, already falling behind.

It sounds a bit ridiculous when I write it down. I've given myself three years to complete the walk, and there's absolutely nothing stopping me from going back and filling in the gaps.

But it still bothered me.

I also realised something quite practical.

I need to start approaching these trips as a hiker rather than a holidaymaker.

That means properly checking the Met Office forecast, understanding the terrain, planning around daylight hours and knowing how I'm going to get back.

I need to prepare for different eventualities rather than assuming everything will go to plan.

And perhaps that's part of building the capacity I started thinking about on my first leg.

Not just getting physically fitter, but becoming more experienced and confident in making decisions when things don't unfold as expected.

Although I still wonder whether I could have made more of Saturday, we made the decision to leave early and drive back in the rain to make the most of the beautiful day planned for Sunday.

What am I actually missing?

And I’m glad we did, I laid out my walking clothes and on Sunday morning, I just got up early, helped by the clocks going back and decided to go up to Richmond Park for a walk on my own.

I’m so glad I did and I noticed interesting things as I walked.

I found myself choosing to come off the gravel path and walk along the softer grass, exploring a little rather than worrying about where I was going or how many kilometres I was covering.

It felt nice just to be moving.

And I started thinking about what I'd really been missing this weekend.

Yes, I wanted to make progress towards completing the South West Coast Path.

But I think there was something else.

I wanted to be outside, in nature, moving for a sustained period of time.

I wanted a bit of physical challenge.

I wanted the freedom to go at my own pace, stop when I wanted to, explore when something caught my attention.

And perhaps most importantly, I wanted some time when I didn't have to think about anybody else.

That's quite an uncomfortable thing to admit when you've come away with your family.

I love spending time with the children, and I genuinely enjoyed our slower day together on Friday.

But I think I'm beginning to realise that these walks represent something quite different for me.

They give me freedom.

Freedom from the mundane and the everyday. Freedom from schedules and responsibilities. Freedom to just be with myself for a while.

And I wonder whether that means I might actually find these trips easier to do alone.

Not because I don't want to be with other people, but because when I'm alone, I only have myself to consider.

I can walk at my own pace. I can change my mind. I can stop. I can keep going.

I don't have to negotiate any of that with anyone else.

Perhaps that's something I need to experiment with over the next few legs.

The walk I didn't take

So here I am, at the end of my second trip, without having completed any more of the South West Coast Path.

And I'm disappointed about that.

I don't want to pretend that not walking was somehow better than walking would have been, or that everything happened for a reason.

I really wanted to walk.

But I have noticed some things.

I've noticed how much I look forward to being outdoors and moving.

I've noticed how uncomfortable I can feel when plans change, particularly when I think I might have made a different decision.

I've noticed that I like to prepare and have a plan, but that perhaps I need to become better at planning for flexibility.

And I've noticed how much these walks seem to represent freedom and time to reconnect with myself.

Which brings me back to what The Path Project is really about.

I'm walking 630 miles before I turn 50, exploring purpose, meaning and identity as we navigate uncertainty and change.

I'd imagined that most of those reflections would emerge while I was actually walking.

But this weekend has made me wonder whether there's something interesting about what happens when we can't do the thing we really want to do.

When circumstances change, when our plans are disrupted, when we have to make decisions without knowing whether they're right.

And perhaps also what those moments reveal about the things that really matter to us.

I don't think I've reached any great conclusions this weekend.

I still wish I'd walked.

But I am coming away with a question that feels worth exploring further.

Where do we go, and who are we with, when we feel most connected to who we really are?

And perhaps an even more uncomfortable question.

If I need to get away from my everyday life to reconnect with myself, what is it about that everyday life that makes the connection so difficult?

Something to think about as I prepare for Leg 3.

Hopefully with a little more walking next time.

15 miles in, still 615 miles to go...