Friday wrote me off. Heat exhaustion had me horizontal, questioning everything. By Saturday, there was only one fix—the woods. My usual patch of common land, tucked away just enough to disappear for the night.

I rolled in late, knackered, ready to crash. Pulled up to the entrance where I normally hide the bike…

And there it was.

Someone had taken a poop right on the trailhead. Not off to the side. Not buried. Right where you walk in. Wipes and tissue scattered like they made zero effort to hide it.

I bumped into the local forest dweller—the guy actually lives out there—and we had the strangest conversation. After a bit of back and forth, we landed on the same conclusion:

This wasn’t random. This was intentional.

Too exposed. Too risky. Whoever did it knows the area. Likely the tent dweller in the nearby field. It felt more like marking territory than anything else—with zero respect for Leave No Trace.

The worst part? I had a takeaway hanging off my bike. Still warm. Completely killed the appetite. No chance I’m eating that with a fresh human poop a few feet away.

So instead of leaving, I did what anyone stubborn enough would do—moved deeper into the woods and carried on.

The Development Cloud

This stretch of common land is marked for development, which is a real loss. For somewhere this close to the city, the wildlife is unreal:

• Foxes moving through at night
• Rabbits living wild in the brush
• Bats cutting through the sky at dusk
• Seeing rabbits in the middle of an urban area isn’t normal—it means the place is still properly alive.

The Mouse That Would Not Quit

My mate had the better story.

Woke up in the night for a bathroom break, left his tent open for a few minutes, came back and passed out. Next thing—rustling.

He wakes up to a mouse inside his tent, eating his cheesy chips.

He catches it, throws it out, zips up, goes back to sleep.

A few minutes later—rustling again.

Same mouse. But this time it brought a mate.

Both of them straight back on the food like they owned the place. At that point, you’ve lost. That’s their tent now.

The Urban Stealth Reality

Two takeaways from the night:

• Wildlife will take your food if you give them the chance
• Humans can be worse than animals when it comes to mess
• Leave No Trace isn’t optional—it’s the bare minimum

I’ll still be back. Just hiding the bike deeper next time… and eating before I arrive.

Urban Stealth — for when the wild is right on your doorstep, for better or worse.

Back to the Woods

Returning to day shifts finally meant less chance of getting caught out during my outdoor escapes. I headed back to the general area where I was previously harassed, but this time I opted for a stealth hammock setup hidden deeper in the woods. Being elevated safely off the ground was an absolute blessing, completely saving me from the creepy crawlies that terrorized my last trip.

Woodland World Cup Screening

My first night back was a completely new experience: three blokes huddled in the middle of the trees watching the World Cup with my outdoor neighbours. Unfortunately, it ended in classic disappointment since we were watching the England game. I spent the entire match staring at my screen, loudly asking why there appeared to be a metaphorical bus parked right in front of the goal (External Link: link to BBC Sport football).

A Five-Star Forest Feast

The following evening, I decided to upgrade my woodland dining experience by bringing along some fantastic chicken my nan cooked. I paired it with fresh rice made right there in the woods using my beloved outdoor rice cooker, which cooks everything perfectly every single time. With the rice done and the chicken warmed up, it was a quick “bada boom” to an incredible wild camping dinner.

Dad Duties and Dead Tanks

Being a dad means your schedule isn’t your own, proven by a long video call with a very excited kid celebrating the start of school holidays. She happily talked right through my designated sleep window, leaving me entirely missing out on watching my downloaded episodes of the comedy show Ideal (External Link) on my tablet. To top it all off, I ran out of motorcycle petrol the next day and had to buy a horribly overpriced jerry can, which genuinely felt like daylight robbery.

The “Hidden” Field Corner

Summer hits different, especially when you’re working gruelling night shifts and trying to catch some daytime sleep during a searing UK heatwave. My quest for slumber started in what I thought was a perfectly “hidden” field corner. I just wanted to crash out and recover. Unfortunately, this prime real estate immediately attracted well-meaning charity workers checking to see if I was homeless. While it’s genuinely great to see people out helping the vulnerable community (External Link: link to a charity like Crisis or Shelter), it wasn’t exactly the uninterrupted eight hours of sleep I was hoping for after a long shift.

The Woodland Invasion

Retreating to the woods to escape my newfound fan club, I thought I had finally found some peace. Instead, my cover was promptly blown by the exact same helpers, followed closely by a local council worker riding a ridiculously loud giant lawnmower right past my setup. I did meet some great neighbors in the woods, though. I chatted with one guy living in a literal two-room fabric mansion you could stand right up in, and another stealth-camping in a much smaller one-man tent setup. Both were incredibly kind despite going through their own struggles, offering to help me out even though they didn’t have much themselves.

Retreating to the woods to escape my newfound fan club, my peace was promptly destroyed by the exact same helpers and a local council worker riding a ridiculously loud giant lawnmower. I did meet some great neighbours, though—one guy in a literal two-room fabric mansion and another stealth-camping in a one-man tent, both of whom were incredibly kind despite their own struggles.

The Sauna and the Ant Army

Desperate for actual privacy and sleep, I relocated my camp as close to a small coppice as possible. Thanks to the ridiculously bumpy ground, I was forced to use my thick, insulated winter sleeping pad just to level things out. Big mistake. With the scorching weather, my tent instantly became a nylon sauna. In hindsight, I really should have just set up a breathable hammock and tarp instead!
Defeated, I lay there in just my shorts, doors wide open to the world to catch whatever breeze I could. I spent the afternoon staring up at a buzzing hoard of insects throwing a rave in the canopy, while a highly organized army of ants systematically robbed me of my dropped biscuit crumbs.
Stubborn Survival

Stubborn Survival

Did I pack up and leave? Absolutely not. I stubbornly stayed put, refusing to let the bugs, the unbearable heat, or the council lawnmower win. Sometimes, outdoor survival isn’t about braving extreme winter storms; it’s just about outlasting an ant heist in 30-degree heat until your work schedule finally flips back to days.

The new Urban Stealth forum is officially open.

It’s a space for stealth campers, off-grid thinkers, and gear nerds to share real field data, setup notes, and honest reviews. I’ll be posting my own power math, tent-heating tests, and field breakdowns first, so the boards start with practical, no-fluff content.

Join in, share your experience, and let’s build a useful community around off-grid living and urban stealth.

👉 Visit the forum here

A change of circumstances has turned my little hobby into a way of life.

After deciding to go my own way, I spent some time staying with my grandmother. Eventually, she palmed me off to one of her church friends. To be fair, it was more peaceful than being at my grandmother’s place, at least for a while. Even then, there were still issues bubbling under the surface.

Then my mother appeared, saying, “Stay with me, I could do with the company.” What that really turned into was shifting goalposts and increasing demands on my time, energy, and resources.

Anyone who has followed my blogs knows I’ve always been about independent living. The funny thing is, every person I’ve mentioned has spoken against it in one way or another. The mistake I made was trying to live halfway between two worlds — one foot in independence and one foot tied to family expectations. Eventually, the noise became too much, so I made a run for it.

The more distance I place between myself and family, the more peace I seem to find.

I know this is a bit different from what I usually write about, but the upheaval in my life lately is exactly why I’ve struggled to keep momentum in the things I normally do. If there’s one thing I’ve learned through all this, it’s this:

Don’t let anyone deter you from your calling.

A lot of people only feel comfortable when you stay inside the bubble they’ve built for you, reinforcing their version of who you should be. The moment you step outside of that, problems start appearing.

While all of this has been going on, I’ve been living in my car. On my days off, I still spend time chilling with my nan — although “chilling” might be the wrong word because she’s definitely a handful.

Becoming a full-time nomad has been a steep learning curve.

I’ve found myself constantly scouting for safe hideouts and places to park up for the night. Sleeping in the car honestly hasn’t been too bad. The weather has forced me into it more than once, especially when constantly breaking camp became exhausting. Still, I genuinely enjoy being outside. You see things most people miss. Sometimes the chaos you witness becomes its own strange kind of entertainment.

One evening, while fishing at a pond, I was sitting there enjoying a hot tea and a toasted cheese sandwich I’d made on-site. Two vehicles rolled into the car park and reversed into spaces while another drove straight in. At first, everything sounded normal. Then suddenly there was this awful crunching sound. One of the cars had slowly driven into the side of another vehicle, caving in the driver’s door.

What made it even stranger was how calm it all felt.

The second vehicle reversed out and drove off one way while the damaged car casually left in another direction. No shouting. No confrontation. Nothing.

At that point, I’d seen enough.

I packed my gear and moved on to somewhere safer for the night.

The madness didn’t stop there either.

I woke up the next morning to a beautiful UK sunrise only to ruin it by trapping my favourite quilt in the tent zip and ripping it apart. The inside of the tent looked like a bird had exploded — feathers everywhere. To top it all off, I still can’t find my earbuds.

I have officially lost the plot.

But somehow, the mood still stays upbeat.

The sun is finally here, which means I can start rotating my lighter quilts until I’m rich enough to replace the four-season one I destroyed. Small victories.

Tonight is my last shift at work before I finally get a well-earned break, and honestly, I need it.

Sometimes, the best outdoor escapes start with a scheduling mix-up. I found myself back in the woods a day earlier than planned — a mistake that actually worked in my favour. As dusk settled, I crossed a waterlogged field, looking for a spot to settle in for the night. The beam from my head torch caught a deer frozen in its tracks, giving me a brief standoff before it bounded off into the trees. The first night passed quietly, and I managed a few hours of rest under the stars. The next day, things took a turn. I headed into work only to realise I was twelve hours early — a proper embarrassment. Rather than return to my original spot, I moved on to a familiar patch I’d camped in before. From this point on, I was sleeping during the day to fit my night shift routine. Space was tight, but the area is always buzzing with wildlife, making it a great choice for daytime rest between shifts.

Part-Time Bum, Full-Time Worker: Hillside Hammock HiccupsPart-Time Bum, Full-Time Worker: Hillside Hammock Hiccups

A few days into my part-time bum lifestyle, things have been going well — aside from the usual outdoor blunders. My spot is on the side of a hill, a detail that’s easily forgotten when setting up a hammock. I learned this the hard way when I left an open flask on the ground, only to watch it slowly tip over and spill all over my ground sheet. In my rush to clean up, I managed to knock over my water bottle as well, soaking everything in the process. Some days, it feels like the hill is conspiring against me. Despite the spills, the location never fails to deliver wildlife moments. Last time I was here, I saw two deer at the watering hole. More recently, I was startled by a decent-sized deer bolting across the path ahead of me. I was wearing my body cam, thinking I’d get a great clip of the escape. It took ages to find the footage, only to be disappointed with a split-second clip where you can just about make out the deer vanishing into the trees. Still, those fleeting moments are part of what makes camping so special.Even with the spills and the missed footage, it’s all part of the adventure. The hillside challenges keep me on my toes, and the wildlife encounters make it all worthwhile. Another day, another story to tell.

The Morning Grind

I was not looking forward to my morning schedule as the night shift had taken its toll. As morning approached, I felt the burden of sleep getting heavier. I looked up to see it was 6am, did my final updates, and then passed out for about 20 minutes. After that, I drove to the gym and headed to the woods. Somehow, it did not seem like fun, but I just had to get it done.This was not made any better when I pre-ordered some Greggs, only to get a cold steak bake. Who does that to someone on a cold, frisky morning? To my surprise, setting up camp was hassle-free — a miracle by my standards. At this point, I had stopped feeling tired and was quite good and chilled. I got changed into my sleep attire and settled in to watch the demise of civilisation on my phone. That plan failed — all I could muster up was sleep. I just passed out like a drunk as soon as I tucked myself in. Truth be said, that sleep was mighty. The only thing to spoil my sleep was waking up and feeling the cold, but my setup protected me from it.