Down-jackets, inspiring tales and freebies
November 2023 was my first Kendal Mountain Festival, a glorious, GORE-TEX-drenched, down-jacked packed weekend which has descended on the Cumbrian town for the last 40 plus years. Films, photography, art, seminars and beer were promised then and still compromise the essence of the long weekend today. Despite strong footholds (or should we say crimps?) in climbing and mountaineering, Kendal proudly opens its canvas-clad teepee doors to pretty much any outdoor discipline.
The skies came out in sympathy with the characteristic slate-grey of the town over the weekend, and indeed the high-tech, waterproof and reliable outdoor kit that is the unofficial uniform of the event came into it’s own. Festival venues were scattered across Kendal and identified by the fluttering of cheery prayer flags we unwittingly associate with Everest Base Camp. The once-bright but slightly faded and frayed patches of blue, white, yellow, red and green adorn the entrances to book stalls, Wagtail pie stands, speaker venues and Kendal’s own Base Camp.
The programme for the four-and-a-bit day festival was packed with speakers, panel events, film previews, fell runs, cold-water swims, walks and workshops. The entrance to Base Camp was adorned with Cat Vinton’s magnificent collection of images from ‘THE LAST OF THE NOMADS in search of those who listen still‘, which I found particularly wonderful having met the photographer at the RGS a few weeks prior. Base Camp, filled with exposed wood, rugs, camping chairs and lanterns all desperately attempting to conjure the impression of a real expedition tent was bursting with brands looking to show off their recent innovation under the guise of a free spork. Fantastic.
As our first experience of the weekend, we spent a considerable amount of time navigating the 78-page programme. We settled on attending a smattering of paid-for talks, not wanting to be tied down to a town-hall chair within a darkened room and missing out on the general buzz, atmosphere and free of charge events padding out the weekends’ programme.
A particularly wonderful hour was spent in the company of Sarah Wheeler discussing her recent book, Glowing Still, and her reflections on a life within the changing industry of travel writing. We’d inadvertently got the tickets due to Hannah Stowe, author of Move Like Water, being unavailable. I was disappointed since Hannah’s talk seemed to be in greatest alignment with my own afflictions, that of the ocean and writing about it. Regardless, 60 minutes with Wheeler took me right out of the watery depths and across almost every continent from Antarctica to Greece, Ladyland to China and Zanzibar. I was so enthralled by her session and eagerly joined the queue for a signed copy of her book. I shouldn’t have been surprised at how engaging, sharp, critical and witty Wheeler was at Kendal, having flawlessly demonstrated it in the first 46 pages of Glowing Still. I’m ashamed not to have known her sooner, but she has firmly positioned herself in the gaggle of women that dance around in my brain, inspiring me when my worries become self-indulgent.
Saturday afternoon saw us diligently trekking from venue to venue, fulled by a Wagtail pie, on our own orienteering challenge to see Kristin Harila, Robert MacFarlane and Clive Oppenheimer. Harila was the new record-holder for the fastest time to summit the 14 peaks over 8,000m and slicing the previous record nearly in half; a privilege to listen to. She spoke with careful consideration for the upsetting events that have accompanied her achievement. Our conversations that followed reflected on her experience as a woman and her handling of the situation, and how different the story may have been from a different voice. She largely glossed over the enormity of her achievement with humility that is so common among those who have achieved the seemingly impossible.
We walked away from recording-breaking expeditions and back into the pages of books with the next two talks from MacFarlane and Oppenheimer. Both wonderfully eloquent and reflective of their work and influence in the world of communication, from the scientific to deeply personal. A theme was beginning to emerge; questioning what drives storytelling and adventure, whether there is an altruistic purpose, and what is the impact.
Our final morning was spent unashamedly filling our pockets with stickers which have since found an appropriate home on my various notebooks. Having left our self-respect outside in the rain, we valiantly tried our hand at a the many ourdoorsified versions of fairground games in an attempt to win yet another down-jacket. To compensate our indulgence, we settled down on a branded beanbag and a hand-carved and not-yet-varnished rocking chair to listen to Alex Roddie. Roddie, being the editor of Sidetracked magazine and the author of Wanderlust (a book on a series of long-distance walking trails in the UK) spent 30 minutes talking about the process of writing and some of his favourite routes. It was music to our flatlander ears to hear the words “Suffolk” and “Lincolnshire” weave their way into a weekend that typically doesn’t engage in anything below sea-level. After some (read: significant) encouragement, I spoke to the editor of one of my most revered magazines at the end and asked, beyond just getting out there and writing, what his advice would be for a budding author. In the spirit of sharing he stressed the importance, not just for Sidetracked but elsewhere too, of being able to take high-quality, beautiful photographs. I’ll add it to the to-do list.
The weekend culminated at the Barrel House, to which we walked laden with rucksacks ready for the next Big Trip: Back to London. For once I didn’t feel out of place with my ten-year-old pink Berghaus 50 litre bag falling off my back. After all, I was in the land of Berghaus (and Rab, and Montane, and NorthFace and Craghoppers). We sat down under the canvas pitched roof of an indoor teepee adorned with fairy lights. The session was a panel event titled Sunday Podcast: The Power of Storytelling hosted by Matt Pycroft of ‘The Adventure Podcast’ and Matt Barr from ‘Looking Sideways’. I’m a big fan of Mr Pycroft, and having accosted him a few weeks a go at the Royal Geographical Society to talk to him about said podcast it seemed abhorrent to miss this one. The refreshingly diverse-by-design panel comprised Adam Raja, Soraya Abdel-Hadi and Lauren MacCallum, who largely find themselves in the activist and inclusivity in the outdoors camps. Above all else, the session was honest and raw. It didn’t intend to provide lighthearted escapism or comfort for the audience, which is what made it so great.
The broad theme which danced, trickled and sometimes poured its way into many conversations over the weekend centred on why. Why do we adventure, why do we explore, why do we talk about it and why do we share? And more importantly, should we? Is it self-serving or selfless? As Robert MacFarlane put it, these are the unanswerable questions that we must keep finding ways to answer.
The excitement finally caught up with me on the way home. Rather than gazing out the rain-washed and grubby train windows to ponder the weekend, I slept almost the entire way. I awoke just enough to navigate the joyful subterranean landscape we call the Tube. I hope to return to the land of Sporks, canvas, and colourful prayer flags in the future.
Alexandra hartley 
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