Earlier this month, I completed the South West Coast Path, arriving at South Haven Point in Dorset—ten years after I first set off from Minehead. I began walking the path in 2015, at age 35, during one of the most difficult periods of my life.
The year before, everything seemed to arrive at once. I was new to parenting, with a two-year-old daughter, and my dad had just been diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer. He passed away three months later. Two weeks after his funeral, I was sitting in the same hospital, being told I had a tumour growing in my neck and jaw. The consultant couldn’t confirm if it was cancerous, but because of the rate it was growing, they feared the worst. The surgery was risky, as my facial nerve ran through the tumour, and I was warned that damage could leave me with a permanent facial droop.
I remember sitting there thinking, What is going on? I had the surgery on my 35th birthday—just two months after Dad’s passing.
I had long dreamed of walking the Pacific Crest Trail after reading Wild by Cheryl Strayed, but five months away wasn’t possible with a small child. So I turned my attention closer to home. Having grown up in Devon and Cornwall, I’d often walked parts of the South West Coast Path with my parents—especially with my dad. Those long walks, packed lunches, hidden coves, and sea swims were some of my happiest memories.
In March 2015, I packed my rucksack, caught a train to Minehead, and began walking. I took the trail in stages—weekends, holidays, the occasional week—always starting where I’d last left off. Each time I stepped onto the path, I felt the same thrill: nature, solitude, the sea, the rhythm of walking. I came home lighter, clearer, more present. It became my way to recharge and process life—time away from parenting, work, and responsibilities. A walking retreat by the sea.
Over the years, I’ve walked in all seasons—in rain, hail, and blazing sunshine. I’ve camped, stayed in B&Bs, hiked with a full kit, and most often used my van, parking at my end point and catching a lift back to the start each morning.
The people I met on the trail became part of the story. One memory stands out: walking into Clovelly ahead of a storm and meeting a 75-year-old Canadian called John in the local pub. The next day we walked together. The winds picked up. Determined to get to our next destination, we pressed on—relieved to do it as a team. I strongly don’t recommend this; if there are high winds, it’s best to wait them out. But we pressed on. At several points, we had to get on our hands and knees and crawl along areas with sheer drops. I kept looking back to check he was okay, thinking, If he can do it at 75, then I can do it at 35. Later that day, when we reached our destination, he told me he’d kept looking at me crawling ahead and thought, If she can do it, so can I!
There were moments of awe: spotting buzzards, red kites, and oystercatchers, swimming in turquoise waters, discovering hidden beaches, and standing alone on clifftops with the wind roaring in my ears. There were also moments of doubt—crossing a hail-lashed beach in winter thinking, Why am I doing this? But I always kept going.
It’s been a slow adventure, but I’ve never been in a rush. Last weekend, I walked the final stretch, reaching Studland Bay, which looked like the Caribbean in the May sunshine. I took off my boots and cooled my feet in the sea as I walked the last part.
There was no one to welcome me at the finishing point—I’ve walked most of the path solo, and it’s taken ten years! Along the final stretch, I chatted with a man called Frank from Sicily, who was taking a break from city life. I stopped for lunch. When I finally reached the end and spent some quiet time at the marker, I suddenly heard someone shouting: “You did it! You did it!” It was Frank, waiting in his car for the ferry to Poole. He waved his arm in the air and shouted, “Keep on going, Sarah!”
An elderly couple I met on the path—who took nine years to complete it—recommended Wainwright’s Coast to Coast. I’ve also been thinking about the Welsh Coast Path. Or maybe… it’s time to finally begin my mountain training.
Walkabout: Creating a Walking Retreat for Women
Walking the SWCP over the past decade I realised how many women would benefit from this kind of experience—time in nature without pressure or responsibility, just room to breathe.
In 2021, I set up Walkabout—a four-day walking retreat for women on the South West Coast Path. With camping, outdoor cooking from our retreat Chef, camp fires and an invitation to take part in a journey, on a journey. Adventures are transformative, build confidence, push your limits and enable you to realise your potential. A space to escape, feel alive and get back to nature!
Photo credit: Kirstie Young
We handle the logistics, plan the route, and bring in a brilliant female chef who cooks delicious and nourishing meals along the way. We start each day with yoga and stretching, then walk a new section of the path, pausing to swim in hidden coves and enjoy the views. Walkabout is my way of sharing what the trail gave me: peace, strength, and a sense of freedom. For more information, visit www.sarahmiddleton.org/walkabout or email sarah@sarahmiddleton.org.
Guest blog written by Sarah Middleton.
The South West Coast Path 