On my wanderings through life I’ve come across people adventuring with all kinds of gear. In Peru I met a woman who did the five-day Inca Trail through the Andes in a pair of converse (correct, those thin-soled, canvas numbers). A friend of a friend at university cycled around Malawi on a “supermarket mountain bike” with a pair of longlife shopping bags standing in for panniers. Someone else I know spent their pandemic-era summer weekends camping in a cheap pop-up tent. 

Evidently, it’s possible to have an amazing time exploring without owning eight bikes or a different rain jacket for each sport you want to try. But you wouldn’t think it if you spend half a second scrolling adventure Instagram or set foot in an outdoor shop.

Personally, I’m not a fan of stuff in general. I make an exception for plants and books, but when it comes to outdoor gear, I like to keep it simple. Not only does more stuff clutter my mind (and my physical space), the idea that you need to spend money on “things” to have a great adventure doesn’t sit right with me. There are enough barriers that prevent people from having the adventures they want – the cost of gear or the need to fit in by showing up with the “right” kit should not be one of them. 

At the moment I have one pair of lightweight, fast-drying shoes that double up as trail running and hiking shoes. And one bike which has served as a commuting vehicle, a touring bike, and a gravel steed (it’s even been known to take on the odd bit of single track). 

Admittedly, my outdoor pursuits lean more toward fairweather adventures in “friendly” terrain. The more extreme the adventure, the more specialist (and expensive) kit you’ll need. For beginners and wannabe adventurers with not-so-deep pockets though, the impression that you need a whole lot of specialist gear is misleading. You do not need expensive kit to have a good time outside. And mostly, you only need one of each thing.

My philosophy

I make do with what I’ve got, borrow, or buy second hand. I only take the time to go deep into nerdy gear specs or splash out on new or specialist gear in very specific circumstances: 

1. Safety: If I’m heading somewhere wet, extremely cold (or hot), remote, or covering technical terrain, and I can’t borrow the right gear, I will spend my hard-earned cash on clothing and equipment that’s going to keep me warm, and help me avoid unnecessary accidents.

2. Frequency: If I want to go far, or go often, sure, I’ll think about investing in some decent kit. When you’re doing something a lot, comfort becomes extra important. If it’s a one-off adventure, for example, a shakedown overnighter to see if I even like backpacking, I’ll make do with what I have, and what I can borrow.

3. Functionality: I live in the UK where rain is unavoidable. If I didn’t own a functioning raincoat, I’d never leave the house. And when my current one “dies,” I will willingly hand over cash (and closet space) for a good quality, brand new one. Which I’ll then use until it in turn gives up the ghost, whether I’m walking or riding my bike. 

I love spending time in nature and I’ve had some really fun adventures—multi-day hikes in Scotland and Slovenia and bikepacking weekenders at home in the UK to name a few. I spend a good few hours each week outside, and yet I don’t have a gear room in my house nor a constantly depleted savings pot for new “toys.” Because, as I’ve discovered over and over again, you don’t need to buy a whole bunch of new equipment every time you want to challenge yourself or try something new. Beg, borrow (or steal) the basics and then get out the door. Nature doesn’t care if you’re going for a walk in your converse or using shopping bags as panniers.

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