Passion: Walking - Just put one foot in front of the other and keep going

When did walking become hiking? Was it around the time that plain old swimming went wild, chips and cheese got loaded and became dirty or slobby joggy bottoms became athleisure wear?

Whatever, when Meghan Markle’s Coronation Day walk along a Californian canyon made headlines as a hike, it signalled that the humble pastime has arrived and since there’s money to be made from ‘gorpcore’ - utility clothing sufficient to endure Arctic expedition being worn to trawl the aisles of your nearest supermarket - it’s a trend that’ll go the distance.

Like many, I started walking more during lockdown. Limited to exercising an hour a day within a five mile radius, you appreciate a dander to dispel the doldrums.

I did speed up to a run, with Couch to 5k and beyond, twice, but each time reactivated an old knee injury that made walking to the office (five steps from bed to desk) a painful lurch.

The injury was the result of a skiing accident - not a glamorous Gwyneth Paltrow swathed in layers of gossamer cashmere on a black run type collision, more of a Patrick Starfish in ski boots, skiting across an icy car park while gripping two wriggling boys, their ski paraphernalia and a baby. I did not wish anyone well.

So I went back to walking and haven’t stopped. With my friend Country Girl I’ve walked many miles, including the Fife Coastal Path, and am three quarters along the John Muir Way, with many walks - let’s call them hikes - in between, to keep us on our toes and trying to quicken our pace in preparation for walking the West Highland Way in the autumn and, in our dreams, Sicily north to south.

Highlights include beaches, birds, geological marvels, archaeological attractions and a menagerie of wildlife including foxes, hares, rabbits, deer, a badger, seals and a stoat in its all-white winter onesie, although that was stuffed, on a window ledge in a house on The Southern Upland Way.

With only the final Western leg of the John Muir Way to complete, walking West to Helensburgh, and words like ‘hilly’ and ‘challenging’ in the air, I wondered whether the great man himself had ever completed the walk.

No is the answer. He was too busy walking 1,000 miles from Kentucky to the Gulf of Mexico. Gulp. I’ll add that to my list, but in the meantime, baby steps…