Before we dive into what heinous torture I’ve inflicted upon my legs this week, I first wanted to share a bit of exciting news: I’ll be joining the CampWild team as one of their twelve chosen champions for 2025! 🎉
“What the hell is CampWild?” I hear you cry.
Let me explain!
CampWild is an initiative and platform that partners with private landowners to open up more of the UK countryside, making wild spaces accessible to more people. In England and Wales, wild camping is largely illegal—except for a few areas in Dartmoor National Park and some coastal parts of Wales. But that doesn’t mean people don’t do it.
The general approach? Leave no trace, arrive late, leave early, and stay discreet—ideally away from buildings and footpaths. While some campers, particularly those living near stunning landscapes like the Lake District or Brecon Beacons, can make this work, for many, it’s not so simple.
Where do you even start? And even if you find the perfect secluded spot, how much sleep are you really going to get when you're constantly on edge, worrying about being discovered?
But here’s the twist. While wild camping is generally off-limits, it becomes completely legal with landowner permission. And that’s where CampWild comes in. By partnering with landowners, they’ve created an incredible network of wild and open spaces on private land across the UK—unlocking hidden pockets of nature for those who otherwise might never get the chance to experience it.
The best part? Not only do you get the entire wild space to yourself, but you can pitch up knowing you’re 100% welcome. No sneaking around, no stress—just the freedom to explore, camp, and immerse yourself in the outdoors with total peace of mind ✌️
This is going to be a game-changing resource for planning this year’s bikepacking adventures, and I can’t wait to take you along for the ride!
Full disclosure: I don’t stand to gain financially from this partnership, I just genuinely believe in the brand’s mission to make wild spaces more accessible and think it’s a fantastic opportunity to bring to the bikepacking community :)
Right. Now that little exciting nugget is out of the way, let’s get back to talking about my poor, feeble legs and the inhumane amount of up that exists on this tiny island.
Día seis
It’s Friday and the sky is the most brilliant shade of blue. It looks set to be an absolute belter of a day, just as Fridays should be. I want to make the most of every second, so I take my cortado outside to enjoy on the balcony. It’s only 8.30am but the sun is already warm. I close my eyes and let it soak into my skin.
I’ve decided that today is going to be a rest day. I’ve given my legs a decent battering over the past 72 hours and it’s only fair that they too get to relax in the sunshine without the fear of another imminent 600m climb.
The next few hours at work are super productive; I’ve chosen to take a half day in order to enjoy an afternoon at the beach, so I hammer away at my laptop in a desperate attempt to power through my to-do list in as little time as possible. The frantic typing is briefly interrupted by our Head of Product as we touch base on a few work-related items, and then quickly move to talking about the positive impact of sunshine.
“I’m like a different person” I admit. “All of the noise that constantly buzzes around my head back in London just doesn’t seem to exist here” I continue, “which doesn’t make any sense, because I still have all the same responsibilities—I’m still working and I still have the same bills to pay. The only difference I can think of is the sunshine”.
We debate this for a while before finally settling on the idea that sunshine has a tangible affect on the energy of a place. In London, everything feels urgent and important and hurried. People walk with purpose and take big strides and huff loudly if you get in their way. Traffic is loud and constant and impatient. Horns and shouts and sirens pierce the heavy air. We’re suppressed and stifled and suffocated; a cog in a machine, a number, a shadow. A non-person, being shuffled along an unforgiving conveyer, never really free to choose our own path or step in a direction that isn’t already paved.
But here, things are slower. Life ebbs and flows with the grace of the evening tide, calming and serene. Even the drivers, who won’t hesitate to thrust a middle-finger through an open window back home, sit back and wait. What’s the rush? Why the anger? Just look at this view.
Do what you want to do, go where you want to go, but most importantly—take your time.
I feel this stillness as I close my laptop and catch the bus down to playa de Fañabé, watching, charmed, as the world passes by through the sun-soaked window. I’m sure my assessment of a slower life wouldn’t be so rose-tinted if it was more permanent, but for now I’m at peace and I’m happy.
Día siete
It’s been an entire week already. Can you believe it?
Today is Saturday, which means we have big plans on the bike (of course). The alarm sounds at 6.30am, quickly followed by a groan of complaint, and a beg for coffee. Sean, as the more skilled caffeine-brewer between the two of us, always pulls the short straw. I try to steal a couple of extra winks whilst he stumbles towards the direction of the kitchen.
It’s now 7.30am and we’ve managed to prise ourselves from bed and into our bibs. Water bottles are filled, suncream has been applied, and routes are loaded. The only thing we haven’t prepared for is the weather; cloudy with strong gusts. What?!
The Canary Islands are notorious for their strong winds, with gusts sometimes reaching up to 70 km/h. Fortunately, today the forecast predicts a much milder 40 km/h, but getting unexpectedly slammed while descending at 60 km/h was still not something I was particularly looking forward to.
We decide that we’ll set out on the planned route, but give ourselves multiple ‘assessment points’ where we can check-in on the current state of the weather (and our legs) and cut things short if necessary.
Our first checkpoint is the town of Tamaimo, which you may remember as the climb we battled on day one. Although this time, I manage to keep my heart-rate much more controlled and my breathing much less laboured. In short: I feel like myself.
Fun fact. As it turns out, being due on your period has a monumental impact on the way your body performs during exercise. Low and behold, I hadn’t lost an embarrassing amount of fitness, I was just menstruating (let’s not be embarrassed to talk about these things!).
But today, I was back on form. A brand new human with a brand new set of lungs and legs. After conquering the relentless 7% gradient, we finally rolled into the cafe and treated ourselves to a cortado and what was quite possibly the breadiest croissant I’ve ever had the (dis)pleasure of putting in my mouth.
Re-fuelled and re-caffeinated, we jump back on our bikes and launch ourselves up the remainder of the climb. “Cafe legs” we both groan in unison.
The next five or so kilometres pass slowly—on purpose—as I battle to keep my composure. I am determined to finish this route feeling as though I “still have something in the tank” instead of wanting to collapse in a big sweaty heap on the cool tiles of our apartment. Therefore, I can’t allow myself to get overexcited every time the road kicks up and demands an out-of-saddle burst. Sure, it would be fun to carry on and see how long I can hold the power, but then I’d risk depleting my energy stores too soon and crawling my way back to Adeje. So instead, I sit my ass back down and continue to spin that granny gear like there’s no tomorrow.
Before long, we crest the final climb and breathe a sigh of relief as the road tilts downward, unveiling a breathtaking panorama. Below us, the sea stretches out in a vast expanse of shimmering blue, its surface glinting under the afternoon sun. Towering, jagged peaks cradle the winding road, their rugged silhouettes contrasting with the soft haze that blankets the coastal towns sprawled beneath us. The sheer scale of it all—the mountains, the ocean, the endless horizon—feels nothing short of magical.
After a few glorious minutes of descending, we reach a crossroads. This is one of our ‘assessment points’. Looking to the left, dark, heavy clouds obscure the peaks of Masca. It looks frighteningly ominous. To the right, blue sky sprawls all the way down to the coast. Sean and I lock eyes, and, without saying a word, turn our wheels to the right. Masca can wait. This trip is all about enjoying ourselves and having fun on the bike. There’s plenty of time for suffering later in the year.
Día ocho
After a heavy week on the legs, we decided to give our bodies a break and instead enjoy a guilt-free lazy Sunday. Bliss. Despite the temperature still being in the low twenties, there was more cloud cover than usual, which made the beach slightly less appealing. So instead, we spent most of the day inside the apartment, pottering around and completing various bits of life admin. I caught up on a few bits of writing, and Sean sent a few emails.
It hit me during this time how, even though I wasn’t doing anything materially different to what I would do at home, I was happier—more content. It got me thinking about the power of novelty and how it shapes our experience of a moment. Doing laundry in your apartment back in London? Dull and tedious. Doing laundry in an Airbnb in sunny Tenerife? Enjoyable and engaging.
I started to wonder whether novelty is something I should be chasing more in my life. New experiences, new places, new people, new environments. I started to wonder whether the reason we get so addicted to progress is because it often results in something new—something novel. Maybe it’s not the progress itself that’s so rewarding, maybe it’s where it leads us. And therefore maybe you can inspire similar feelings without the need to progress, but simply to move. Progress suggests a forward motion, but perhaps it doesn’t need to be that way. Sideways or even backwards movement can also create novel experiences, arguably with less of the pressure.
I pondered this seed of a thought for most of the day. In fact, I’m still pondering it now.
Perhaps the most fulfilling journeys aren’t the ones that take us higher or further, but the ones that simply take us somewhere new.
If you have made it this far, then I salute you. What started out as a simple recollection of events, seemed to quickly unravel into a winding maze of thoughts, reflections, and existential musings. I have a habit of doing that. I apologise.
But whilst you’re still here, I have a couple of other exciting things to share with you 👇
Remember Ella? She’s totally kicking ass with her new coaching business and is running an exciting new one-hour workshop for people looking for a fresh boost of confidence. If that’s something that sounds interesting to you, why not check it out?
My go-to cycling apparel brand is currently crowdfunding (and already smashing 133% of target!) so if anyone is looking to invest in a company that prides itself on its sustainable no-waste preorder model and exceptional product quality then look no further👌
That’s all for now. Until next time,
P.S if you’ve enjoyed my writing so far and think others might quite like it too, it would mean the world to me if you could spread the word 💜