It's exactly 12 months since my first solo wild camp.

I remember it well - a glorious sunny day in December (after a period of heavy rain and horrendous floods) with similar sunshine forecast for the following day. I had a burning desire to be back home in the Yorkshire Dales but with commitments in my diary until early afternoon, I knew it would be dropping dark by the time I arrived at my destination.

That's when the urge hit me to have an adventure. If I dug out my bivvy bag, tarp, sleeping bag, head torch and stove, I’d be able to sleep out in the hills and get an early start for a walk the next morning.

It was a brilliant plan, the weather was perfect and something inside was telling me that this was a great idea. Gathering all my kit, I headed off to my meeting and then pointed my car towards the Dales.

Arriving at my destination just as dusk fell, I grabbed my kit and made the horrible discovery that I'd forgotten to bring the gas converter for my stove. Doubt hit and I nearly put everything back in my car to drive home.

I could still have a warm drink courtesy of the flask of hot water that I’d packed, but my evening meal would be cold soup which might not be the best idea in early December. Teetering between adventure and retreat, I phoned my husband who was working a few hundred miles away (and who at this point had no idea what crazy ideas had been going through my mind that day). I figured that he would be a good sense check and if he thought I was being an idiot, I’d go stay with a friend or family in the area.

I can only say that I married very well! His response to this piece of crazy news that his wife was about to walk into the dark night for her first solo wild camp in a bivvy bag was to suggest a visit to a friend a few miles away and borrow a flask of hot water before getting my arse onto the moors for the night.

Happy that I already had the flask of hot water in hand, I was back on track and hauled my rucksack onto my back to set off up the hill. By the time I made it onto the moors, it was getting pretty dark. Unsure whether I would freak out at being alone in the middle of the night, I decided to set up camp in a place where I knew that I could get back to the safety of my car via a fairly easy walk in the dark.

Placing my bivvy bag between 2 rocks (eliminating the possibility of rolling off the hill and over a cliff - always thinking!), I spread my tarp across the gap and made a brew. It was around 5.30pm, pitch black, my camp was set up and it was too early for my evening meal.

That was when it hit me! I'd decided to do this in the middle of winter and it was going to be a very long, dark night. I couldn't even get merrily drunk on wine as I wanted to be able drive home should things start to feel too spicy. Early night it was then.

It took me a while to find my big girl pants and take off my walking boots to get into my sleeping bag. My thinking was that I could make a quick run for it if something scared me, but my escape time would be much longer once those boots were off my feet. Eventually I got brave and by 6.30pm I was tucked up in my bed. Oddly, despite the early hour I fell asleep although woke again at 8pm. Still 3 hours until my normal bed time then.

By now, the wind had picked up, making my tarp snap, and rain was falling - I realised that I’d made a HUGE rookie error.

I’d checked the daytime weather forecasts but had completely forgotten consider what was going to happen overnight. With the recent horrendous weather, it was entirely possible that I would be facing gales and torrential rain.

Smartphone in hand, I texted my husband in his cosy Somerset B&B (I was starting to think of it as base camp by now) to ask for a weather check. He confirmed there was nothing worse than the current levels of wind and rain forecast, so I decided to stick it out for the night.

Attempting to fall asleep again, my mind now started running through the various terrors of being alone on the moors at night. Was there an axe murderer or rapist wandering the hills? Were there any marauding cows on the moor about to trample me in my sleep? Would the sheep try and curl up with me thinking they'd found a dry cave to shelter? Were there any ghosts up here on the moors? Or, my personal favourite, was an alien spaceship going to fly over and abduct me?

Thankfully, I managed to snatch a little sleep here and there before morning finally broke!

Expecting a glorious sunrise to celebrate my first solo wild camp, it was a somewhat disappointing dawn - a dull and overcast morning which sort of got a bit lighter, no myriad of oranges, yellows and reds to greet me from my slumber.

Packing up before the first walker arrived and making sure I left no trace, I headed off for a morning walk before a well earned late breakfast at the cafe. 

Had I slept? Not really - but I was buzzing with so much energy from the experience that it made no difference.

Would I do it again? Absolutely!

Having car camped on campsites for years, starting wild camping has opened up different experiences for me. It’s simpler and I feel more connected to the environment around me. 

I rarely sleep well when wild camping, but that never seems to matter.  The experience and adventure give me enough energy to take me through to the next evening when I can curl up in my own bed.

I enjoy spending time with other people, but the solo experience gives me something extra too. I'm relying on my own resources (smartphone and basecamp not withstanding) and that gives me a real sense of achievement and empowerment when I return to the real world.

Since my first wild camp, I've often been asked for tips or information by people - so my next post will be a list of some of the things I've learned from experience (or more likely omission).