Likes vs. Landscapes: The Uncomfortable Truth About Modern Hiking

We’ve all been there. You’ve slogged up the brutal, relentless ascent of Pen y Fan in a howling gale, or scrambled your way up the knife-edge of Crib Goch. You finally reach the summit. The clouds miraculously part, revealing a breathtaking expanse of the British countryside stretching out beneath you.

Your first instinct? It isn’t always to take a deep breath and marvel at the landscape. For many of us, the very first thing we do is reach into our hip pocket, pull out a smartphone, and start framing the perfect shot.

Click. Filter. Caption. Share. Instantly, your achievement is broadcast to hundreds of people sitting on trains, at office desks, or on their sofas. The notifications start rolling in, and with them, a little hit of dopamine.

But it begs a genuinely uncomfortable question for the modern outdoor enthusiast: If you didn’t have a camera to document it, would you still lace up your boots and head into the hills?

The Age of the "Insta-Hiker"

There is no denying that social media has changed the way we interact with the UK’s wild spaces. Platforms like Instagram and TikTok have opened up the outdoors to a whole new generation, showcasing the moody peaks of the Scottish Highlands, the rugged beauty of the Lake District, and the sweeping peaks of the Mourne Mountains in Northern Ireland.

In many ways, this is brilliant. More people are discovering the physical and mental health benefits of hiking.

But it has a dark side. The pursuit of the "perfect grid post" has turned some of our most sacred, wild places into mere backdrops. We’ve all seen the queues forming at the top of Snowdon just to take a photo on the summit stone, or the crowds trampling delicate flora at Instagram-famous waterfalls.

When the primary goal of an outdoor trip becomes content creation, we stop interacting with nature and start consuming it.

What Do We Gain When We Put the Camera Away?

Imagine heading out into the mountains next weekend with a phone that is strictly only used as a phone. No photos. No stories. No Strava beacons. Just you, the mountain, and the sky.

What changes?

1. True Presence
When you aren’t looking at a landscape through a 6-inch screen trying to figure out the best composition, your other senses wake up. You notice the crunch of the scree under your boots. You feel the sudden, biting drop in temperature as the mist rolls over the ridge. You hear the cry of a raven circling overhead. You are entirely, completely there.

2. The Return of the "Secret Spot"
The pressure to share everything has meant that secret, quiet corners of the UK are fewer and farther between. By hiking without the intent to broadcast, you reclaim the joy of a solitary experience. A beautiful view becomes a private memory shared only with your hiking partner or kept entirely for yourself. There is immense power in having an experience that belongs only to you.

3. Motivation Check
Going camera-free forces a harsh bit of self-reflection: Why am I actually doing this? If the answer is because you love the burn in your thighs, the smell of the heather, the feeling of total isolation, and the satisfaction of reaching the top, then the lack of a camera won't matter. If the thought of doing a 10-mile hike without anyone knowing about it feels pointless, it might be time to reassess your relationship with the hills.

The Challenge: Try an "Analog" Hike

We aren’t suggesting you throw your smartphone into the nearest tarn. Technology is vital for modern mountain safety, whether it’s checking the Met Office Mountain Hazards forecast or using mapping apps like OS Maps for navigation.

But next time you head out - whether it’s a weekend trip to the Peak District or a big day out in the Sperrins - try taking an "analog" approach to the scenery.

Keep your phone in your bag. Resist the urge to capture the sunset, the dramatic ridge line, or your celebratory summit flask of coffee. Instead, take a mental photograph. Take a deep breath of that clean mountain air, look out at the horizon, and let the memory etch itself into your mind, rather than an SD card.

After all, the mountains were there long before the internet, and they’ll be there long after. The best views are the ones that change you on the inside, not the ones that get the most likes.

So ask yourself, honestly, would you still head into the mountains if you couldn’t take a photo?