The Point I Turned Back: Hiking the South Hams Way in Bad Weather

The weather was deteriorating — 47 mph winds and a sharp drop in temperature were coming. I could feel the cold in my bones already, rubbing my hands together, flexing my fingers to get the blood flowing.

That night, at a sheltered campsite, heavy rain pummelled the tent, and I broke open a packet of hand-warmers. Now was the time to consider my options.

It Wasn’t Meant To Be That Day

On my first day on the South Hams Way in Devon, the weather was a dream: chilly, but gloriously sunny most of the way — perfect spring hiking weather. It was uplifting, the sort of weather that fills you with hope and makes you think winter is well behind you — until it isn’t, and it’s suddenly there, blowing hail in your face.

On day one, though, all was well, and I had a peaceful night of wild camping on the coast with not a breath of wind or drop of condensation.

However, a quick check of the forecast before I set off for the second walk turned an expected day full of the joys of spring into one of quiet unease.

The Met Office predicted the winds would strengthen to 47 mph over the coming days, with heavy rain and falling temperatures. I’d have to decide whether to carry on: a cliff edge in winds like that is no place to be.

At the end of the day, as the winds picked up, I walked a mile inland to the campsite. I sat in my tent, listening to the wind and rain, and decided to call it there. As well as the obvious risk of being blown over a cliff, I’d need to catch a small ferry across an estuary, and it would most likely be cancelled. I didn’t fancy being exposed, stuck in the middle of nowhere, so I had a couple of choices: stay at the campsite and wait it out, or go home and come back in a couple of weeks.

I chose the latter. Other commitments meant I had a small window to complete the hike, and hanging about for two days wouldn’t work. Did I feel disappointed, like I’d failed? Yes and no.

One More Attempt

On a bus back to the train station and start of the trail in Totnes, I had another idea. The South Hams Way is a circular route: why not head inland towards Dartmoor, see how it felt, and gauge what the weather was doing?

I walked about eight miles through blustery Devon countryside, blown off my feet a couple of times, before I got to Buckfastleigh on the edge of the moor. The weather was definitely turning — persistent heavy hailstorms had entered the frame, and I knew my sleeping bag wouldn’t be warm enough on high ground. Decision made.

Sitting at the bus stop back to Totnes and the train home, I was disappointed that I couldn’t finish the hike in one go, of course — it’s the first time I’ve ever had to do that. But I also know I tried several options, and stuck to my mantra of ‘safety first’ —and that feels good.

Staying Flexible On The Trail

Over the years, on the occasions I’ve changed my plans on the trail, it’s usually been down to minor inconveniences rather than big moments.

If the weather’s been a bit rough, I’ve stayed at a campsite instead of a planned wild camp (it’s always worth carrying a list of campsites, just in case). Or tiredness meant I walked a shorter distance than I’d scheduled. All sorts of things can cause unexpected tiredness, from harder terrain than expected to being ill or under the weather.

Sometimes, I’ve had to take a different route. You might come across a diversion, or find you have to change your route when the weather changes. This happened to me after an accident on a mountain in the Lake District.

Perhaps the most surprising was when I changed my route because I was bored with the trail! That was a straightforward decision — why carry on with something unfulfilling when you can change tack?

Changing tack — even to the point your plans become unrecognisable — isn’t a failure or a waste of time. For a start, it shows you can assess risk. Taking unnecessary risks that could put you or others in danger isn’t the same as pushing yourself out of your comfort zone. A calculated risk is something you can mitigate before you even set foot on the trail.

How you deal with unexpected dangers or events, or with boredom or mood, is about assessing things on the fly — and trusting your instinct.

I’ve learnt the most valuable tip is to add flexibility into every hiking plan — an expectation to finish a trail is great, but we can never be sure what’s ahead. And that’s part of it.

My walk on the South Hams Way, cut short as it was, was wonderful —the views, the weather (for the first couple of days!), the challenge of steep hills and cliff paths carrying a ridiculously heavy rucksack, a wild camp by the sea — I loved it. And I can’t wait for part two.

Thanks for reading, and happy hiking!