When the Trail Changes: Finding the Good in a Wonky Family Holiday
- Peter Jeffers
- Apr 15
- 2 min read
Family, hills, resilience — and why controlling the controllables matters.
If you spend enough time in the outdoors — running, hiking, riding — you learn one truth pretty quickly: the trail rarely goes exactly how you pictured it. Weather turns. Plans shift. Someone bonks. Someone else forgets the snacks. But if you stay open, the day still gives you something worthwhile.
Turns out, family holidays work the same way.
We’d booked a few days away in the Long Mynd, right in the heart of the Shropshire Hills. My wife had done all the graft — found the cottage, sorted the food, coordinated everyone’s schedules. The plan was simple: a rare full-family break with our older daughters, Jack (Ellies Partener) Nellie thier Cocker Spaniel, Jacob our ten‑year‑old J, and of course, Kobi the dog. Walks, hot tub evenings, Take away curry, a few drinks, proper time together.
Night two and things, things wobbled.
One of the older girls had a tough evening — emotions running high, stress bubbling over, the kind of family moment that arrives without warning and derails the mood. She left early the next morning to get some space. She came back the following day, but the atmosphere was still fragile. No villains, no blame — just one of those moments where life feels heavier than it should.
By day three, I thought things might settle. I laced up and headed out for a run on the Long Mynd — one of those steady climbs that clears your head and reminds you why the Shropshire Hills are such a gift.
Three miles in, the phone rang.
My 98‑year‑old mother‑in‑law had been taken ill and rushed to the hospital. My wife needed to get back immediately.
And just like that, the holiday we’d imagined vanished.
It was now me, Jacob, and Kobi. Not the family gathering we’d planned. Not the peaceful break my wife deserved. Not the reset we’d hoped for.
But here’s the thing the outdoors teaches you: when the weather changes, you don’t argue with it. You adapt. You control the controllables.
So that’s what we did.
We turned the hot tub into our own little recovery pool.
We built Lego. We played Uno in the pub — Jacob with Coke and crisps, me with an IPA. We hiked five miles through the hills, just the two of us and Kobi the dog. We made pizzas. We laughed. We connected.
It wasn’t the holiday we planned, but it became the holiday we had — and there was something quietly brilliant about that.
My wife came back tonight after two days at the hospital. Her mum seems stable, which is a relief. And while I missed her, I’m proud of how we adapted. Proud of how we found joy in a week that could’ve easily been written off.
The outdoors has a way of reminding you: you don’t always get to choose the conditions, but you do get to choose how you move through them.
Next up is the May Bank Holiday. A fresh chance. A clean slate. And maybe — just maybe — another reminder that even when life throws its curveballs, there’s still plenty of good to be found if you’re willing to look for it.
Comments