A Year of Review 2025

A Year of Walking, Exploring, and Becoming More Than I Was

As I look back across the last twelve months of Walking and Exploring, one word stands out above all others: progress. Not just in miles walked, peaks climbed, or adventures logged but in confidence, resilience, perspective, and purpose.

This year was not about ticking boxes or chasing numbers for the sake of it. It was about showing up, stepping outside, and discovering what happens when consistency meets curiosity. From frosty dawns on familiar hills to long, demanding days deep in the mountains, 2025 became a year that shaped who I am as an explorer and, more importantly, why I explore.

By the numbers, it was a big year:

• 158 adventures

• 777 miles walked and run

• 93,842 ft elevation climbed

• 25 peaks charity challenge completed

• £1,945 raised for Cancer Research

• Challenges that started in February and concluded in September

But behind every statistic is a story. And this blog is about those stories the highlights, the hard days, the laughter, the lessons, and the quiet moments that never quite make it into a social media caption.

The 25 Peaks Challenge: Purpose in Every Step

The backbone of the year was the 25 Peaks Challenge, a commitment that stretched from the short, cold days of February through to the tail end of summer in September. It was never going to be easy and it was never meant to be.

Each peak came with its own character. Some were kind, offering wide paths and forgiving gradients. Others demanded respect, focus, and a willingness to slow down. Weather windows closed unexpectedly. Plans were adapted. Early starts became routine, and long drives home at the end of harder days felt earned rather than endured.

Completing the Welsh Three Peaks Snowdon, Cadair Idris, and Pen y Fan was a standout moment 50,000 steps for the day. Each mountain tested something different:

• Endurance.

• Navigation.

• Mental resilience when legs were tired and conditions changed.

But the real achievement was not standing on summits. It was knowing that every step taken contributed to something bigger. Raising £1,945 for Cancer Research gave every mile meaning. On the tougher days when motivation dipped or the weather turned that purpose carried me forward.

The Malvern Hills: My Constant, My Classroom

If there was one place that defined my year, it was the Malvern Hills. These hills are not dramatic in the way big mountain ranges are, but they are honest. They do not pretend to be anything they’re not, and they reward those who return often.

Sunrises on the on the hills became moments of stillness in an otherwise busy world. Foggy mornings taught humility visibility reduced to metres, familiar paths suddenly unrecognisable. Clear winter days delivered views stretching for miles, reminding me how quickly conditions can change within 24 hours.

The Malverns were my training ground:

• For physical conditioning.

• For navigation skills.

• For decision-making when visibility dropped or wind chill turned savage.

They reinforced a message I shared repeatedly throughout the year: familiar terrain does not mean low risk. Even hills you’ve walked hundreds of times demand respect, preparation, and awareness.

Helping a Friend Find His Way Back

One of the most meaningful chapters of the year had nothing to do with summits or statistics.

Supporting my friend Matt on his rehabilitation journey reminded me that adventure is not always about pushing harder it is often about slowing down. Taking him hiking on the Pen y Fan horseshoe was about confidence, trust, and rediscovering mobility along with the joy outdoors.

Those days were not about pace or distance. They were about shared effort and shared achievement. Watching someone rebuild belief in themselves is a privilege, and it reinforced why Walking and Exploring exists in the first place.

Adventure should be inclusive. It should meet people where they are, not where we think they should be.

Running Toward New Ground

This was also the year I discovered that I could run.

Not fast. Not elegantly. But consistently.

Running my first-ever 5k was a personal milestone. It proved that limits are often imaginary until challenged. Building on that, lining up for the Bournemouth 10k in October felt like stepping into unfamiliar territory equal parts nerves and excitement.

Running taught me discipline in a new way. It exposed weaknesses quickly and rewarded patience. And it added another layer to my adventures: sometimes the journey doesn’t need a rucksack, just a pair of trainers and the willingness to start.

Casper the Campervan: Scotland and the Isle of Skye

Midway through the year, Walking and Exploring gained a new team member: Casper, the adventure scout campervan.

What followed was one of the most memorable chapters of the year, an incredible journey around Scotland and the Isle of Skye. Waking up with mountains outside the door, cooking meals in wild places, and chasing weather windows became the rhythm of the days.

There were long drives. There were moments when the rain tested patience. But there were also sunsets that stopped me in my tracks, quiet trails far from crowds, and that rare feeling of complete immersion in the landscape.

Casper didn’t just transport me he changed how I explored. Slower. More deliberately. More connected.

Lessons from the Mountains: Safety Is Not Optional

If there is one theme I consistently return to, it is safety and for good reason.

This year reinforced that mountains do not care about experience, confidence, or intent. They respond only to preparation and decision-making.

Key lessons that came up time and again:

• Over-prepare, always. Extra layers, spare gloves, and a hot drink are not luxuries.

• Tell someone your plan. Routes, timings, and fallback options matter.

• Navigation skills save lives. GPS is useful—but map and compass understanding is essential.

• Conditions change quickly. A beautiful sunrise can mask dangerous wind chill and exposure.

Some of my most challenging days were not on big peaks, but on familiar ground in poor visibility. Those experiences shaped how I talk about the outdoors now: with enthusiasm, yes but also with honesty.

The Funny Moments That Keep It Real

Not every adventure was heroic.

There were wrong turns taken confidently. Mud encountered unexpectedly. Wind that made forward progress questionable at best and rain it always seemed to rain when on the ranges.

And then there were those moments when plans simply didn’t survive contact with reality weather closing in, visibility disappearing, or energy levels saying “today is not the day.”

Those moments matter. They keep Walking and Exploring grounded. They remind me and hopefully others that adventure does not require perfection. It requires adaptability and a sense of humour.

Looking Ahead: The 2026 Fan Dance Challenge

As one chapter closes, another begins.

In June 2026, I will take on the Fan Dance—a serious test of endurance, navigation, and mountaincraft. It is not a challenge to approach lightly. The Fan Dance demands respect, preparation, and accountability.

Training has already begun:

• Structured hill work.

• Navigation refreshers.

• Fitness with purpose, not ego.

This challenge is not about proving anything. It is about continuing the journey, raising money for Cancer Research, raising awareness, and showing that disciplined preparation opens doors to experiences that once felt out of reach.

I will share the build-up honestly: the training days that go well, and the ones that don’t. Because authenticity matters, especially when the stakes are higher.

Gratitude, Growth, and What Comes Next

Walking and Exploring is not just about where I go it is about the community that walks alongside me.

To everyone who followed, supported, donated, commented, shared stories, or simply said “keep going”: thank you. This year was shaped as much by encouragement as by effort.

2025 proved something important to me. Progress is built one step at a time. Big challenges are simply small decisions repeated consistently. And adventure is always available to those willing to begin.

As I head into the mountains at the end of this year and step forward into 2026, I carry every lesson, every mile, and every memory with me.

And I will leave you with the words that continue to guide everything I do:

Remember, every journey starts with a first step.