Northern Horizons: An Interview with Will Herman

We are very excited that our first running title, Northern Horizons, is set to be launched at Fort William Mountain Festival next month. Comprised not just of epic running routes across Cumbria and Scotland but also deeply personal reflections, this stunning new guide explores why we spend time in the mountains just as much as it tells you how to get there. We sat down with author Will Herman to find out more about how this unique new book came to be.

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Tell us a bit about yourself

I grew up in West Cumbria, studied at the University of Sheffield, lived in Yorkshire for many years, and have worked in the public and private sector, now running the Manchester office of a public relations consultancy. I have a young daughter, Isla, who I suspect will be more successful in whatever she pursues professionally than I ever was. 

My academic and professional life have always been overshadowed by my passion for the outdoors and from a very early age, I have spent as much of my time as possible, in the ‘wild’. When I was very young, that simply meant playing in the woods, as far from home as I could go. Later, it meant challenging myself in the hills and on the sea. Those early years had given me a strong sense of independence and I was always happy to pursue my aspirations alone. There were times when such situations became more challenging than I had wished – finding yourself miles offshore in a small boat, rapidly deteriorating conditions, and no one but yourself to rely on, is a formative experience. 

Running was something I’d always done but was neglected for many years until for a variety of reasons – some of which are explored in Northern Horizons – it became a focus once more. A few years later I moved to Lancashire, subsequently joining Clayton-le-Moors Harriers, and have since established many new friendships within the fell running community across northern England.

So would you describe yourself as ‘a runner’? 

I might, in some situations, though perhaps for expediency primarily. It’s a broad term and one which fails to describe why I do what I do. I was introduced to the Lakeland fells and Scottish hills at an early age and spent significant periods of time among the Northern Isles as well as the Outer Hebrides in my formative years. Those early experiences combined to create a fascination with, and love for the ‘wild’ places. I have always pursued one or more specific activities, and as was the case with climbing and sea kayaking, more than being simply an athletic discipline, running provides purpose and a means of engaging with these places. 

A climber will draw inspiration from the rock, its texture and the myriad features which combine to create a compelling line, dictating a style of movement. The sea kayaker will read tidal flows, learn how to run with the waves, delighting in hidden passages among islands, the arches and caves of remote coastlines and the incomparable exposure of open crossings; few things are so compelling to those of a certain mindset. For both, in the skilled application of their craft, the act itself can be cathartic. Similarly, the hill runner will find something uniquely fulfilling in fluid movement among mountains, reading the land and finding the lines linking those features which inspire all of us who look to the hills. 

But all these things require some form of training, however informal, a commitment to the skills each activity and the environment in which it is practised, demands. From that, for myself and I suspect many others, comes joy in developing an athletic, performance orientated ability. For some that is enough and may remain or become the sole focus of their endeavour. For me, there is commonality in the broader experience which transcends such a simplistic definition as being a ‘runner’.

What would you describe Northern Horizons as?

I’ve been wrestling with this question from the beginning. As others have said in review, it is a guidebook, but not in the ordinary sense. The format was inspired by the series of walkers’ and climbers’ books including The Big Walks and Hard Rock. Each offered something inspirational, and served to highlight specific routes, but required that the reader added to the information offered, with their own research if they chose to follow in the author’s footsteps.

Northern Horizons is arguably more three dimensional than either of those series, providing a continued interplay between the runner, the hills featured, and those things which combine to influence our time among them. In some cases, individual chapters deal with intensely personal experiences, though it is not intended to be biographical. In other cases, I deal with the demands presented by running in winter conditions, or technical skills including navigation, but it is certainly not intended to be instructional. I also deal with some of the varied issues, ethical and physical, affecting our ‘wild’ places. 

Northern Horizons is many things therefore and perhaps it is preferable to avoid labelling it as one thing or another. I hope people of all persuasions will find something of value within it. And while it was written primarily for the hill runner, there is no reason why others should not enjoy it similarly or why the hill walker should not set out on the same routes described – indeed many of the established long distance runner’s rounds were first completed by hill walkers. 

In the book, you speak often about other pursuits other than running. Do you think being multi-disciplinary is important in the outdoors?

Rather than describing a multi-disciplinary ability as ‘important’, I would say it is beneficial. Broader technical competence enables a wider range of environments to be explored and significantly increases the rewards to be found among the hills. The obvious example is ability on steeper ground, though only a modest capability on rock is required to complement the vast majority of hill runs in a significant way. The link between sea kayaking and hill running is less obvious, and something which will only appeal to a limited number of people. But that appeal will most likely be clear to anyone who has packed a tent and walked into the hills. There is little that compares to the self-contained nature of such expeditions. Equally, a little knowledge of the mountain environment and the life it holds, adds greatly to the time we spend there, and helps to inform how we engage with it. 

You cover both Cumbria and Scotland in the book – do you have a specific favourite area for running?

No. And yes! I will always think of the Cumbrian fells as home, but many of the Scottish hills feel no less familiar, particularly those of Assynt. And it is with the far north-west of Scotland that I feel the greatest affinity. But then each area and each mountain range has its own appeal, from the intimate complexity of Coigach, to the high summits and vast spaces north of Glen Affric. In that contrast lies significant appeal. 

The Cuillin remains to my mind one of the most inspiring and undoubtedly challenging places to run, but I would never wish to be constrained solely to those summits. The Small Isles have always held a particular allure and the combination of committing sea kayaking and challenging running on the Rum Cuillin, has provided some of my best days. But then the Torridon hills will always have a special place in my mind – it is an area filled with childhood memories as well as more recent endeavours, not all of which have proved successful. Hobbling from Beinn Eighe after rupturing the tendons and fracturing my ankle on the ridge, proved to be particularly unpleasant. But even these are memories I look back fondly upon – they are the experiences which shape our connection with the hills and through which we learn of ourselves.

 Northern Horizons was never intended to represent all ranges equally, much less to be an exhaustive compilation of routes. Instead, I focused on those mountains which have inspired me – it is arguably a short-list of favourite areas. Whether others feel this selection offers the best running is another matter. Some will enjoy the challenge of technical or simply rough ground. Others will relish fast, grassy trods and flowing descents – of which there are perhaps all too few in Northern Horizons – sorry!

What’s the most important message you hope people will take away from the book?

I do not believe the mountains exist for us, nor do I believe we have any particular right to pursue a given activity among them. That we can do so is a privilege and one which it seems to me, all too many have lost sight of. The mountains, high moorlands and more broadly all those places which retain at least some sense of wildness (rather than wilderness for the two are not mutually exclusive), are an essential ingredient in our collective psyche, informing cultural values and individual sensibilities. Assigning monetary value to these areas through revenues associated with industrial and other commercial activity of all types is a reductive process, undermining our connection with, and the broader value society places on what remains.

Writing of high-altitude mountaineering, to paraphrase, Joe Simpson noted that the frontier was now ethical rather than physical. He was referring to the style in which difficult ascents were made, and the value accorded to them. The sentiment is perhaps more broadly applicable to all adventurous endeavour.  If we simply tame what is wild, eliminate risk, and remove our personal responsibility, what value can we accord to our ‘achievements’? 

Northern Horizons is a celebration of the hills and wild space that remains, as well as what it is to immerse yourself in it. If there is a message worth taking, perhaps it is that we should seek to ensure those who follow, accord these places their due, learning of them and the skills required by them in accepting the challenge they offer. In this way, we might better protect both the ethos of our sport, and the places essential for its survival.

What does the future of running look like to you? 

Running, compared to many sports, is low cost and accessible. Participation will undoubtedly continue to grow. Beyond that, and of running in general, I’m not sure I am well qualified to answer.

Richard Askwith recently commented on his predictions about the future of fell running specifically and happily acknowledged he had been wrong when he wrote Feet In The Clouds. It is certainly true that there are more clubs, more participants, and greater numbers at many races than there ever were. Other races have ceased however, a reflection perhaps of at least some of the issues Askwith wrote of. And racing is merely one facet, albeit integral, to fell and hill running.

The drive for inclusivity in the sport is growing which is to be welcomed. But increased participation is a double-edged sword. Hill running takes place in those areas least able to sustain such increases. It is why protecting the ethos of the sport is in part at least, so important. This becomes more difficult when participants are drawn through promotion, rather than finding their own way through related activity, to the hills. 

Increased participation also leads to diversification however, spreading the load. Beyond the proliferation of commercial races and other multi-discipline events, are a host of new challenges which fell, and hill runners are rising too. Numerous new long-distance rounds are being established and some remarkable achievements documented, by those pushing the boundaries of what is possible on the hills. As I found among sea-kayakers, hill running draws those with strength of character, independence and a free spirit, those who prefer to make their own decisions and find their own way, people whose passion for their chosen way of life runs deep and who will speak up for the values they hold dear. Long may it remain so.

Northern Horizons is currently available for pre-order, and will launch in an event with Will Herman at Fort William Mountain Festival on 15 Feb.