Pick your pathway pals wisely and you’ll never walk alone

Continuing his series about memorable walks and pathways, Will Gore considers the competing merits of solo trekking and group hikes

Hadrian’s Wall accompanied by friends and cricket is a treat (Getty)

Taking inspiration from the world’s worst job application platitude, I like to think I walk well on my own and as part of a team.

On a childhood holiday in Austria, we joined other tourists on guided hikes in the Tyrolean Alps. We were strangers to each other, yet bonded over feeling knackered on the steep ascents and – for the adults – over schnapps when summits were reached.

Our local guide and purveyor of alcohol, Werner, could have run up the mountains in half the time we took: but he encouraged and cajoled and made us feel like winners.

When we returned to another part of Austria a couple of years later, the lack of group walking opportunities was keenly felt.

Not that having only my family for company was miserable; far from it. But there was more chance of a fraternal falling out if a fortnight in each other’s company wasn’t diluted by other people.

The best walking companions are those who share your view of what makes a decent trek: who will not baulk at the peak ahead; who won’t be forever stopping for a rest; who aren’t afraid to look down.

The next best are those who are not like-minded but who don’t worry about a parting of the ways when you suggest an extra hill and they would prefer the easier shortcut to the finishing line.

Not far from Polesden Lacey I rounded a corner into a field, bounded on all sides by trees, to be confronted by a group of twenty men all carrying guns, some on horseback

When you start a walk in boots and your hiking mate is in plimsolls, there may be trouble ahead.

With the right band of pathway pals, however, your route will be forever lined with glittering chit-chat and helping hands when the going gets tough. Walking Hadrian’s Wall with friends during the 2005 Ashes – listening to Test Match Special as we went – was one fine example among many.

But what to do when there is no chum to find, no family member close at hand and no local Werner to keep up your spirits (with spirits)?

A solo trek is not be sneered at – certainly not inferior to the collective experience. You see things which would be missed if you were part of a galumphing herd: the deer which didn’t hear you coming; the view you might have hurried past. Responses to everything are concentrated by being internalised.

Fifteen years ago I had taken myself off to the Surrey Hills for the day. Not far from Polesden Lacey I turned a corner into a field, bounded on all sides by trees, to be confronted by a group of twenty men all carrying guns, some on horseback.

Their presence was game- not gang-related, but not one of them uttered a word as I walked through that field under their gaze. Had I not been alone, the unerring, memorable silence would probably have been replaced with some inane banter.

But even when there is no-one else around at all, thoughts and dreams and echoes of memories come crashing along, unannounced.

In the middle of a wood, I have been suddenly struck by a thought about my long-dead grandfather; on the top of a hill I have pined for my wife; and by sparkling streams I have wished for the company of my children.

All very soppy perhaps. But the truth is, we never really walk alone.