A personal pilgrimage: walking the UK with #NoFixedPath – by Ethan Malcolm

The idea for this walk started in a bar in Kathmandu. We were waiting for our flight home after two weeks of trekking to Everest Base Camp and I was quietly resigning myself to another university summer of office work.

A family friend was telling us about someone who had walked and busked the length of New Zealand. The walking appealed enormously to me; the busking, less so. I didn’t think rural Britain needed my lacklustre ukulele skills and questionable singing. What came next was a direct question:

“You’ve got all summer, why don’t you walk the length of the UK?”

As I pondered it, every excuse I could summon turned out to be insufficient. Two weeks of Himalayan hiking and the local Gorkha beer probably provided the extra nudge I needed.

I would begin the walk exactly a month later.

Little planning

For the previous few summers, I’d had the valuable opportunity to work for the homeless charity Hope into Action, so I pitched my walk plan to them for a potential partnership.

Our enthusiastic CEO, Jon, and the Supporter Relations team helped me find a fundraising angle. It was decided that I would camp the vast majority of the route and align my walk with the charity’s work with those affected by homelessness.

‘No Fixed Path’ was the name I settled on. It summed up the fact that the walk involved very little planning whatsoever. I set off from Land’s End at 8am on June 29th.

Beautiful and brutal

Nothing would prepare me for the beautiful yet consistently brutal first six days along the South West Coast Path. Which section had the most elevation? You’d think Scotland, or the Peaks. It was Cornwall.

It was around this time that questions began to be raised about the accuracy and honesty of The Salt Path, Raynor Winn’s bestselling memoir and subsequent film which tells the story of them walking that same coastal path with her husband after losing their home.

The controversy was poignant for me as my journey was in support of people who were homeless, and it felt all the more important to be as genuine as possible. The revelations about The Salt Path spurred me to sleep outdoors as much as I could to catch a glimpse of what for many people is constant struggle.

Friendliest people

On the Offa’s Dyke Path, a man called John stopped to chat while I was resting, and it turned out he was walking Land’s End to John O’Groats (LEJOG) in sections, using the same guidebook as me.

He was the only other LEJOG walker I met on the entire trip and one of the friendliest people I have met. We shared meals and walked together for a couple of days. We’ve stayed in touch since and my parents later helped John’s daughter with a move to our area. You never know who you might meet, or how you might end up helping each other.

My great friend and university housemate Luke also joined me from the Shropshire border for the remainder of the journey and it was great to have his company as we headed into the Midlands.

The plague village

Jon from Hope into Action also joined us for a leg of the walk in Derbyshire which included many anecdotes, entertaining stories, as well as in-depth discussions putting the world to rights.

Not far from where we were walking was Eyam, the village that voluntarily quarantined itself during an outbreak of bubonic plague in the 17th century. Led by their rector, William Mompesson, the inhabitants made a perimeter around the village and remained inside it so the plague would not spread further. Of a population of 350, only 83 survived, but countless others saved as a result.

Walking through the village brought home the story which encapsulates the essence of charity: where community extends beyond our immediate neighbours and selfless service ameliorates the suffering of others.

Dodgy breakfast

Parts of the journey were far from graceful. It was tough and we packed light. In fact. I only wore two pairs of boxers and two pairs of socks for the entire walk!

Apart from blisters and the expected aches and pains, we were only struck down by illness once. Luke and I were wiped out after tucking into a full English from what turned out to be a dodgy cafe near Huddersfield. The breakfast quickly reappeared and forced an emergency two-day break as we recovered.

Pilgrimage

Looking back a year on, what began as a personal challenge gradually became something of a pilgrimage. My faith was a key motivator throughout, and the walk strengthened it in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

The beauty of creation, the generosity of donors and the encouragement of people I’d never met were constant reminders of God’s grace and provision. The path was never as fixed as I had imagined, and many of the most memorable moments were entirely unexpected. As Proverbs 16:9 puts it

“We may chart our course, but it is the Lord who directs our steps”.

The walk left me with a deeper insight into those for whom nights without home comforts is a daily reality, and a renewed gratitude for organisations like Hope into Action.

Full circle

We reached John O’Groats on our 56th walking day, having set off that morning at 4.00am. The scenery looked remarkably like Land’s End and satisfyingly felt as though the journey had come full circle.

In all I had walked 1,200 miles, spent 60 days away and ended up raising £15,000 for Hope into Action.

It had been a great experience and I was glad I listened to that challenge in Kathmandu a few months before. I would thoroughly recommend the experience to anyone – when you travel with No Fixed Path, you never know what experiences and encounters you will have.

---

Ethan Malcolm has recently graduated and is moving to Australia to begin his career and a new chapter in his life.