A Wild Camping First: Chilli in a bag & Sav Blanc crisp from a can
- Hannah
- Apr 10
- 9 min read
Updated: May 7
Four weeks ago, me and Ben set off on a first-time adventure in the Lake District.
By first-time, I mean a new experience for the two of us, not some history making, Guinness World Record attempt - well, not yet anyway - Ben Grylls still has ample time to make his mark and I don't doubt the man for one minute. But, swinging back round to my original point, little did we know that a night in a tiny tent - that I bought for £90 and shoved in the loft for over year - would redefine our whole idea of freedom. *They don't make the tent anymore, but I've linked the newest model.
When you step fresh out of a 39 place Nursery classroom, to arrive at a destination that serves up an idyllic slice of silence with your nutty banana porridge pouch, you won't ever want to leave either. Especially when the penny drops and the realisation hits that the breathtaking, mountainous landscape you are admiring, right from your bed (albeit sleeping bag), is totally free. Yes, £0 kind of free. *Okay, okay you need the kit, but once you've bagged it, you're set for unlimited adventure - so, who is the real winner?
And this is exactly why wild camping now takes top spot in Han's way to holiday.
It is the IT.
The real IT. The shazzle dazzle. The boom to the bang, like the fish to the chips and you absolutely need to do it at least once in your lifetime.
Because who knew that pitching up a waterproof hideout, on top of a fell, would be the ultimate cherry on top of the cake?
Not me and I don't know at what point I started to think that a house with four walls was so overrated, but I do know that I’m now beginning to question where wild camping has been my whole life (and by whole life, I mean the last 7 years of weekends).
What I so stereotypically perceived to be a night or two of 'roughing it', turned out to be quite literally a night lost in the finer things of life. For once, I totally disconnected from the real and chaotic world that I live in. And with that, I'll never see a swish hotel in quite the same light again. I've come to the conclusion that I no longer need anything more than my backpack, two walking feet and one Ben as PA, knowledgeable guide and trusted GPS.
If you're on board and interested in the nitty gritty details, now is the time to pay attention. How do you concoct a wild camping trip that delivers the goods and more?
Step 1 - Pick a fell, decide your route, check the weather and pack accordingly. All of which we did only to arrive and decide that for a first time outing, Ben's overly ambitious 8 mile scramble was all going to be a bit too much when carrying the weight of a small toddler on your back. Let's just say, working on my kit set-up is next on the agenda - isn't that right Ben?
Resorting back to OS Maps, our trusted answer to Air BnB, we found a nice little spot popping out just above Grasmere. A small little fell that goes by the name of Silver Howe and reaches a fair 395m elevation. Settling on a walk close to the local amenities (and pub) was a wise move, just on the off chance it all decided to go tits up - ever the optimist, that I so truly am.
What was in the bag? Or in my lucky case, across two bags.
Vango Stratos Alpha 250 Short Sleeping Bag - for those amongst us who are new to this game (like me), it's a reliable, cosy and snug bag. Not for the faint hearted when packing light and small, as this bad boy does not compress easily.
Thermal layers, upon layers of layers - plus two spare pairs of socks, another fluffy pair to keep the tootsies warm whilst sleeping, two t-shirts and another pair of leggings. Alongside my usual hat, gloves and toilet roll combo. Managed to squeeze my book in for some light evening entertainment.
Two Firepot Grub Pouches - a game changer in the world of dehydrated and meals on the move. Cut the processed crap and additives, just pure high-quality, fresh and local ingredients. We both opted for the Chilli Con Carne and Rice for tea, then switched to Toasted Banana Porridge for breaky. Hands down, the nicest chilli I have ever eaten and Ben can vouch, I didn't stop yapping about it all until I got my hands on a coffee the following morning. FYI, I like a chilli and make my own, so you know, it's seriously got to have game.
I'm not suddenly working for Firepot. I'm just going to keep blowing the Firepot trumpet, because these guys have something special and everyone needs to know about it!
Sleeping Mats - I've left the little summary of this one further down. Keep scrolling, it's worth a laugh.
The ol' trusty Jetboil - because no one wants to wait half an hour for tea when they've climbed to the top of the world.
Step 2 - lace up your boots movers and groovers, it's walking time.
Our adventure commenced in the way all great adventures should commence - a trip to the Co-Op local to stock up on supplies. Supplies that this time round could fit somewhere in our already bulging, bursting at the seams bags. So, in true style we opted for 2 x 750ml water bottles and two cans of Co-Op's finest Sav Blanc. It is all about the hydration in moderation.
In my eyes, it's a proper triumph when a walk resembles that of The 100 Hundred Acre Wood from Winnie the Pooh. If you couldn't already tell, I like a walk that dabbles in a bit of everything and this one had it all. Just picture that perfectly illustrated map and you've got everything you need to know. The route weaved through a canopy of leafy greens and meandered up a dishevelled stack of rocks. Grab a quick break and you can admire the steady swilling of the lake, before brutally finishing up on a nought to eighty incline stretch.
All in all, I'd say it was a success. It took us a cheeky little hour or so to reach the pinnacle and damn, what a view we were greeted with. Even my poor eyes could admire Grasmere, Rydal Water, Windermere and my favourite of them all, Loughrigg Fell.
Ben got to work and pitched the tent, because it was far quicker and easier on the brain (for all involved) if I stepped back and took in the surroundings. Job was a good'en, so the feet up and feasting commenced. Just to note, my contribution came in the form of setting up the cosy club inside the tent - I know my place and put my talents to good use.
Step 3 - Survive the night
You can find the girl a coffee on the road, but can you find her a bed that lives up to her Emma mattress? Ultimately, this was always going to be the real deal breaker right here.
In short, yes you can.
It was lying right next to me, in the form of Ben on his premium plus, ultra light-weight, luxury, five star hotel sleeping mat. AND, you absolutely cannot forget the inflatable pillow that I believe to be cushioning in a cloud-like kind of way. Dreamy. Because yes, this is Ben and six years in, I've learnt that Ben does not do things by halves.
Meanwhile, over in the economy quarters, I was living it up large on Ben's exceptional 'hand me downs'. According to my nifty little tracking device, the sleeping set up was so good, I got the best night's sleep I'd had in three long weeks.
A solid 95% green recovery. Miraculous and much to Ben's relief, it meant that I did not wake up paranoid a sheep was robbing our tent every hour. It also meant I did not have to beg him to get us to safety, which apparently was high on his agenda, as he had to remind me on more than one occasion to not panic if I heard rustling.. it'll just be a suspicious sheep he says. Obviously.
My three evening highlights would very easily be...
The moon being our personal night light - it was so bright on top of the fell that we didn't need to use our head torches.
The sense of community - despite being miles away from anyone else, we could see the constant bobbing of glowing torches climbing up and down the fells around us. It all become mysteriously clear that someone was watching us too. Every time we flashed the torch say four times, they would repeat the same pattern. All in the name of a bit of fun ey!
We were quite literally sleeping under a blanket of stars - mesmerising for miles.
Step 4 - Unzip the bedroom door to paradise
The grand finale. The moment I had so eagerly been anticipating. It was finally here. I set my alarm for 5:30am because I get serious FOMO and the idea of missing out on a single drop of a spectacular sunrise was a no go. You best believe me when I say, I leapt out of that sleeping bag like a child leaps out of their bed on Christmas morning. I was just missing the grace as fighting with my sleeping bag, to get out of it at speed, made me look like a slug crawling desperately across the floor.
When I finally conquered the red sleeping bag and made my way to the little orange exit, I hadn't even opened the zip halfway when I knew we'd total struck gold. It wasn't dark, but it wasn't light. A single line of orange span out across the horizon and I'm going to describe it in the best way that I know... like a juicy layer of tangy marmalade, perfectly smeared across a slice of toast. The sky was just flooded with hues of blues, but the seamless blend of midnight and powder really made it pop.
It was completely still. No breeze. Pure silence and a lake like glass.
Picture this...
The deep shades of blue are dissolving into the sky. Meanwhile, a dome of rich and deep burnt orange appears, offering you the warm morning hug you didn't know you needed. The odd little swoosh and ripple of the lake drifts into your ears just as a flock of geese glide beneath you. But here is the very magic, because you're above them and everything else in nature is still catching the zzz's, you can hear the soft hum of their wings as they fly. Not to mention you're tucking into your five star nutty banana porridge that perfectly compliments the scenery.
Now that is a feeling of escapism that cannot be replicated.
What are you waiting for? Grab a tent and GO! Coffee and croissants are waiting for you at the bottom. And, if you're willing to take a short little tootle down a country road, you'll arrive at Chester's By The River. Quite honestly a sanctuary for all of the coffee and pastry loving people out there. Think golden, think flaky, think mouth watering. Run don't walk.
Dipping into wise words and taking it back a few years...
If I met my nineteen year old self and told her she was going on an adventure, living completely out of a bag, she would die a little inside and ask what me what a pair of walking boots actually are. Her anxious, whirlwind mind would consider absolutely every possible reason to not go and convince herself that it is way too far against the grain. She'd analyse the imaginary opinions of those people she didn't even no anymore. Persistently reassuring herself that 'outdoorsy' is not the one and she should instead, be soaking up the Man Met Uni bliss of Deansgate Locks, even though the very thought makes her stomach curdle. Press fast forward and somewhere between nineteen and twenty seven, she found the little spicy ingredient that she was soul-searching for. Confidence. Now here I am, fast approaching my late twenties, writing and having sleepovers on 400m of elevation for fun. Oh how nineteen year old Han would be proud, albeit it, shellshocked, but proud none the least.
Not that my voice is gospel, but let this be your sign to get out of your head and just DO IT. Whatever the IT is. Do it, do it, do it.
I like to imagine the little person on google street view is me wearing one too many pumps of my Bare by Vogue Tan (for anyone wondering the little human is in actual fact orange) and the map represents the shambles of interweaving and long-winded thoughts in my mind. Now I’ve come to learn, I can either leave her running round in a panicked frenzy or I can drop her in a calm and secluded spot, where the only voices that matter are the birds. You're in control - drop that little orange figure right where you want it, you won’t regret it!
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