I Trekked 505 Miles Across Britain — Here’s Why We Need the Right to Roam in Malaysia

I wasn't aware that I was inside a nature reserve located near a Wagamama restaurant until the security staff at Rushden Lakes Shopping Centre in Northamptonshire stopped me from wild camping and kindly asked me to leave. In the end, I found myself spending the night about three hundred meters away, in a field next to a dual carriageway.

Living outdoors wasn't due to necessity, but I grew accustomed to such instances throughout the 26-day act of conscientious trespass and wilderness exploration. camping journey I undertook last summer. I covered 505 miles starting from Hastings in East Sussex all the way to Gretna in Scotland. Scottish boundary. Along the journey, I traversed nearly every type of landscape. England includes offerings such as cities, fields, mountains, and private estates.

I aimed to promote awareness about the Right to Roam initiative, which advocates for increased access to natural areas in England. "Conscientious" trespass involved avoiding damage like crushing crops or damaging fences—and steering clear of disrupting private barbecues.

Read Next: A hiking trip up a mountain brought my buddy and me closer together, even though we mostly meet at the pub.

The tale unfolds during the lockdown period. In landlocked Worcestershire without beaches, I was taken aback by the scarcity of suitable locations. swim In nature, around my vicinity, there weren’t any that I could reach without approval. That’s when I stumbled upon it. Who Owns England?: The Story of Losing Our Land and Regaining It In this work by Guy Shrubsole, one of the co-founders of Right to Roam, he details that approximately 92 percent of land in England is privately owned, leaving only around eight percent as open access land where permission isn’t required.

In the meantime, in England, genuine wild camping — spending the night outdoors freely and without charge — is allowed solely within Dartmoor National Park. However, this right could be jeopardized because of an appeal made to the Supreme Court by landowner Alexander Darwall. In July 2023, the appeals court reversed a previous ruling which stated that wild camping does not qualify as outdoor leisure activity and hence isn't covered under the Dartmoor Commons Act.

In October last year, following Darwall’s plea to the Supreme Court, numerous individuals congregated at Dartmoor to advocate for the freedom to engage in wilderness camping. One such person was Lewis Winks from Right to Roam. As Winks assisted me in getting ready for my trip, he shared this insight: "Engaging in wild camping means establishing a connection with nature on its natural grounds—without the necessity of paying."

My journey started at a place often considered the beginning of missteps in public access: Hastings. Following William the Conqueror’s seizure of the throne in 1066, he and his nobles divided England among themselves, displacing common folk to establish deer parks. Laws enacted back then to penalize resistors continue to resonate in modern times.

Elsewhere, the story is very different. Take Norway: there private landowners exist, of course, but the Allemannsretten Legislation ensures unrestricted access to undeveloped land.

Co-founder of Right to Roam and writer Nick Hayes The Book of Trespass He contends that we must question the notion of reserving the countryside solely for a chosen group of "caretakers." He emphasizes the advantages for mental well-being from engaging with the natural world.

I'm the epitome of someone disconnected from nature, coming from an urban background. Just a week before departing, I purchased some not-quite waterproof boots. Training? None at all. My initial night's unauthorized wilderness camping—set up amidst the redwoods on Beech Estate close to Battle—was quite disconcerting. However, after giving myself a pep talk, I let a historical podcast lull me into sleep.

The following morning, I was awakened by the sound of birds and the scent of rain on dry earth. I felt unusually joyful and prepared for another day’s adventure.

While walking Although East Sussex, I started to observe the abundance of barbed wire and numerous "No Trespassing" signs.

Prior to my journey, and during travel, I consulted specialists on the proper way totrespass safely and responsibly.

Included among us was Emma Linford, who works as both an expedition leader full-time and a campaign organizer for the Right to Roam initiative. Together with me, she entered unlawfully into the premises of Rushton Hall, formerly owned by Sir Thomas Tresham, known for his unauthorized enclosures which resulted in the Midlands uprising of 1607.

"It was among the first major demonstrations against the privatisation of communal lands," Linford informed me.

Those accompanying me on the stroll comprised Paul Powlesland, a barrister and the initiator behind Lawyers for Nature (a community interest firm aimed at driving changes to safeguard nature). His group—Friends of the River Roding—involves individuals dedicated to rejuvenating and planting along overlooked sections of the river, all done independently of obtaining permission from property owners.

Close to Sheffield, I spent time walking and conversing with scholar-activist Maxwell Ayamba. His efforts focus on reshaping perceptions of rural areas by integrating Black history into these narratives—partly by addressing how the riches gained from English colonial activities contributed to financing extensive properties.

The same day, Leigh Rose, of non-profit organisation Trash Free Trails, told me how litter-picking events can mend both trails and minds.

Miraculously, it was only my feet that really suffered from the 40,000 steps a day. In London, about 90 miles in, I wept in pain on a park bench and considered throwing in the towel. My achilles screamed. But, after a good night’s sleep in a hostel, I tried again and completed my biggest day yet. Near Nottingham, however, my feet were so blister ridden that I decided to visit the city ’s NHS walk-in centre. A nurse patched me up.

As I explored some particularly absurd access challenges, I ended up with several additional blisters. These involved areas designated as "open country" that are theoretically accessible under legal guidelines but cannot actually be reached without breaking those rules. To emphasize how ridiculous this situation was, I deliberatelytrespassedin a direct path connecting two major public-access zones in Cumbria.

Once I finally arrived at Gretna, I moved toward the boundary with a symbolic endpoint in mind: Scotland’s 2003 Land Reform Act guarantees everyone the freedom to wander and camp freely in the wilderness.

"Having such great freedom is incredibly empowering and transformative," noted Nadia Shaikh from Right to Roam, welcoming me after I completed my walk. She resides on the Isle of Bute and values deeply the bond with nature that her surroundings provide.

Following my extensive trek, I can confidently assert from personal experience that the English countryside remains largely uninhabited. It's disheartening to realize how few people actually get to appreciate this vast emptiness.

However, across those 505 miles, my perception of it as a destination for Sunday-walk tedium transformed. The excitement of venturing into forbidden areas played a part, yet I also discovered contentment in the gentle gestures from nature: the breeze rustling through the trees, swirling red kites overhead, and the curious behavior of cattle.

Since then, I've gone camping several times, each experience boosting my confidence and reducing my fear of darkness. Always maintaining a safe distance from Wagamama.