Walking My Way Back From Grief 

Harriet’s story begins with loss, but also with the deep connection to nature her mother passed down to her. After her mum’s death in 2023, Harriet found herself unanchored - until she turned to the one thing that always brought them together: walking. What followed was a 1,200-mile journey of remembrance, healing, and hope. 

Some of my earliest memories revolve around walking with my mum. 

When I think of her, I think of nature. Mum was a brilliantly clever woman and a passionate campaigner for equal opportunities who eventually became Deputy Speaker in the House of Lords. But the mum I hold closest in memory is the one who would spend hours beachcombing with me, showing me the sheen and curve of the tiniest shell, or picking blackberries for crumble. 

Once, walking along a path in Essex, she bent down to gather wild chamomile. She rubbed it between her fingers so I could breathe in the sweet scent. This will help you sleep tonight, she said. That evening, my sister and I drank home-brewed chamomile tea with a dash of honey and slept like logs. Even now, whenever I sip chamomile tea, I can see her introducing me to nature’s wonder. 

When Mum was diagnosed with dementia and slowly began to lose her cognitive abilities, it became my turn to use scent as communication. I’d break off a sprig of rosemary, warm it in my hands, and invite her to smell it. We’d wander to the garden for the roses. When speech had all but left her, these familiar scents still drew out her last remaining words: “Wonderful,” she’d whisper, smiling. 

Mum died in October 2023. Her care home called to say she was refusing food and water. After nine years of living with dementia, this was the end. My sisters and I sat at her bedside for seven days and nights. When she finally took her last breath, the woman who taught me to love walking in nature was gone. 

Anyone who has lost a loved one knows the strange busyness that follows: telling friends and family, arranging the funeral, sorting through possessions, handling wills, and dealing with property. It’s like a post-death tornado that sweeps through your life - and then suddenly, it’s over. And there is nothing but emptiness. 

That was me in November 2023: dislocated, unmoored, unsure what to do next. After nine years of travelling alongside Mum on her dementia journey, giving her small moments of joy, I suddenly didn’t know what my purpose was. 

In my grief, I turned to the thing I always associated with her: walking in nature. I decided to walk a long way—1,200 miles from Land’s End to John O’Groats. To honour Mum, I chose to raise money for Dementia Adventure, a charity that provides supported holidays in nature for people with dementia and their families. 

My journey was documented in a podcast I created with Dementia Adventure - The D Tour. Along the way, I met inspiring people who support individuals living with dementia in their communities. And I met the wonderful team at Macs Adventure. 

Macs Adventure sponsored me on the Scottish leg of my walk, along the West Highland Way and Great Glen Way. Organising a long-distance hike takes a lot of planning - routes, maps, mileage, rest points, B&Bs. It took me three months of sweating over spreadsheets, OS maps and Google searches. But in Scotland I could finally relax: my itinerary was arranged, my accommodation booked - no guesswork. Everything was of excellent quality. I was even given an app with GPS mapping and route details. 

And my pack was transported from point to point. I’ll admit, I was nervous. For two months, my backpack and I had travelled together along the South West Coast Path, Offa’s Dyke and the Pennine Way. Now we were to be separated! But it didn’t take long to realise the difference between carrying 10kg and 3kg. A heavy pack can ruin a walk, strain joints, cause blisters and even stress fractures. 

So yes, I thoroughly enjoyed having my pack transported. 

I’d walked through some of the UK’s most iconic landscapes, the north Cornish coast, Welsh borderlands, Yorkshire Dales, Pennine Moors - but Scotland still blew me away. By the time I reached the West Highland Way, it was October, and the mountains were ablaze with orange bracken against a brilliant blue sky. It’s a sociable path for meeting fellow hikers, and each day felt like walking through a film set: the beauty is epic and almost unbelievable. 

The Great Glen Way is perhaps lesser known, but for me, it was equally magical. Two memories stand out: the miles of ancient woodland - golden beech, silent conifers - and the awe-inspiring sight of Loch Ness. It took my breath away. 

What did I learn? Britain is one of the most walkable countries on earth. We have exceptional footpaths and scenery that shifts and surprises: misty moors, serene dales, vast lochs, majestic mountains. We really do have it all. 

A small piece of advice: don’t forget to stop. Give yourself time to sit with a view, listen to silence, soak in wonder. 

And I learned the profound difference that support can make. If you’re new to long-distance walking or unsure how to plan a route, Macs Adventure will do it safely for you. If you’re too busy to organise a trip, they’ll sort it. Don’t want to carry a heavy pack? They’ve got you. Want to walk all day and put on clean, comfortable clothes each evening? Call Macs Adventure. 

One day on the West Highland Way, I crossed a small wooden bridge. I stopped to watch the mountain brook below and the trees that lined it: oak, rowan, beech. I checked my phone: midday, October 12th 2024 - exactly a year since Mum died. Feeling her close, I gathered stones and autumn leaves, noticing texture, shape and colour just as she had taught me. I made a circle of stones on the bridge, then dropped the leaves into the water, watching them drift away. 

Goodbye, Mum. 

I walked on, grateful for the healing space that walking and nature had given me. At last, I felt able to let go.