Tre modi di vivere un sentiero: Cornovaglia, Isole Faroe e Scozia

Three ways to experience a trail: Cornwall, the Faroe Islands and Scotland

Text and photographs by Nerinka Quadrelli

Three Trails, Three Ways of Experiencing Nature

Every journey leaves behind memories, emotions and images to take home. But when a place becomes part of your work, the way you look at it changes profoundly.

Walking is more than simply moving through a landscape. It is a way of learning to understand the culture that has shaped it.

Over the years, I have had the opportunity to lead numerous groups through Cornwall, Scotland and the Faroe Islands—three destinations that have become an important part of my work. Returning to the same places time and again, walking their trails in different seasons, meeting the people who call them home and guiding travellers who have entrusted you with their time, their expectations and often a small personal dream allows you to notice details that would otherwise go unseen.

This reflection grows out of that experience. It is not the result of a single visit, but of years spent working as a hiking guide. Because guiding people in nature is not only about ensuring safety and organisation. It is also about interpreting a landscape, understanding its culture, respecting its delicate balance and sharing its deeper meaning.

Cornwall, Scotland and the Faroe Islands all share landscapes shaped by the ocean, the wind and the climate of the North Atlantic. Yet each tells a profoundly different story about nature and the experience of walking.

Cornwall: Nature as a Shared Heritage

If there is one place in Europe where walking feels like an integral part of local culture, it is probably Cornwall.

Its most iconic symbol is the South West Coast Path, the long-distance trail that follows the peninsula’s dramatic coastline, linking villages, beaches, lighthouses and historic landmarks. More than just a hiking route, it is part of the region’s identity—a thread that weaves together landscape, history and local communities.

Walking along the coast, one immediately notices a defining feature of the British approach to nature. The landscape feels wild and untamed, yet behind that impression lies an extraordinary amount of planning and stewardship. Nature is allowed to flourish, but within a carefully managed and monitored system.

A key role is played by the National Trust, which has protected and managed extensive stretches of the coastline for decades. Well-maintained trails, carefully managed access, clear signage and ongoing maintenance make these landscapes accessible to an exceptionally wide range of people.

The result is immediately visible. Families with young children, older walkers, hiking groups, runners and casual strollers all share the same paths. Walking is not perceived as an activity reserved for experienced hikers, but as a natural part of everyday life.

There is one detail that strikes me every time I return. Walking in Cornwall means constantly crossing privately owned farmland, much of it used for grazing livestock. Along the trails, you open and close dozens of gates. At first they seem like a minor inconvenience, but before long they become part of the experience.

Those gates tell a much deeper story than they appear to. They allow walkers to cross private land without disrupting the work of farmers or allowing livestock to escape. They represent a balance built over time, where the right to walk exists alongside respect for the people who live on, work and care for the land every day.

Perhaps that is what fascinates me most about Cornwall. It is a landscape that is not only protected, but genuinely shared.

Superalp GTX Ws

The AKU footwear designed for women hikers seeking maximum protection and lasting comfort on long days on the trail.

The Faroe Islands: A Balance in Transition

If Cornwall represents a welcoming relationship with nature, the Faroe Islands tell a very different story.

Here, the landscape feels immediately more dramatic. Mountains rise straight out of the ocean, sheer cliffs plunge into the sea, the wind never seems to stop, and the weather can change completely within minutes. Yet behind this overwhelming sense of wilderness lies a constant human presence.

Life in the Faroes still revolves around sheep farming. Sheep are everywhere, and the landscape is crossed by fences that climb mountain slopes, traverse high plateaus and reach places that appear impossibly remote.

It creates an interesting contrast. On one hand, you feel the power of an untamed environment; on the other, you realise that every part of the landscape belongs to a carefully managed system. Private ownership plays a much more visible role here, and the boundary between accessible land and private land is often clearly defined.

Many of the Faroe Islands’ historic trails were never created for recreation. They connected villages, grazing lands and places of work—they were routes of necessity.

As a guide, I have often felt that modern hiking has developed here largely in response to the growth of tourism. More than once, local people have expressed genuine surprise that someone would travel halfway around the world simply to walk a trail. This is not because outdoor sports are absent—football, rowing, swimming and athletics are deeply rooted in Faroese culture. Rather, walking purely for the pleasure of walking still occupies a different place in everyday life.

In recent years, many historic routes have been restored, signposted and made more accessible. Information panels have appeared, maintenance programmes have been introduced and, in some cases, access fees have been implemented.

This evolution is understandable. The Faroese landscape is extremely fragile, and the passage of thousands of visitors can leave visible scars in a remarkably short time.

Tourism, however, remains concentrated around the best-known and most easily accessible locations. Step just a little beyond these iconic sites, and you quickly rediscover the silence that still defines much of the archipelago.

This is where, in my opinion, the value of a guide with a deep knowledge of the region truly becomes apparent. It is not about finding “secret” places, but about choosing trails that genuinely tell the story of the Faroe Islands.

Walking an ancient route between villages, crossing a valley without meeting another person, or reaching a settlement along the same path used for centuries by shepherds and local communities offers a completely different experience. You are not simply moving through a landscape—you are walking through the history of these islands.

That is why, on our journeys, the goal is not simply to reach the most famous destination, but to choose the trail that tells its story best. That is the difference between visiting a place and truly getting to know it.

Scotland: The Freedom to Read the Landscape

Of all the countries in Northern Europe, Scotland is perhaps the one most often misunderstood.

Many people imagine it as one of Europe’s last great wildernesses: endless mountains, vast moorlands and a landscape untouched by time. I was looking for that image too when I first visited. Instead, what struck me immediately were the many signs of human presence. Returning over the years, studying the landscape and talking with the people who live there, I came to realise that this was precisely what made Scotland so fascinating. It was not telling me the story of untouched nature, but of the often complex relationship between people and the land.

That is why, if there is one way to truly understand Scotland, it is by walking through it. Walking is not simply one activity among many. It is the journey itself.

Scotland’s right to roam allows people to cross most of the countryside, provided they do so with respect, common sense and responsibility. It is a principle that says a great deal about the Scottish relationship with the land. The freedom to walk does not exist because there are no rules, but because there is trust that those who enter the landscape will care for it properly.

And it is while walking that another common misconception begins to disappear.

It is easy to think of the Highlands as completely wild. Yet once you learn to read the landscape, a different story emerges. The distribution of woodlands, the vast open moors, dry stone walls, estate tracks and extensive treeless areas are not simply the result of climate. They also reflect centuries of human activity and deliberate choices in land management.

None of this diminishes Scotland’s appeal. Quite the opposite. Perhaps this is the greatest lesson it has taught me: a landscape is not fascinating simply because it appears wild. It becomes truly meaningful when we learn to understand the dialogue—sometimes harmonious, sometimes conflicted—that people have shaped with nature.

Guiding people through these places has taught me that there is no single way to experience nature.

In Cornwall, walking is part of everyday life and a way of making the landscape accessible to everyone. In the Faroe Islands, it still reflects a history of connections between villages and grazing lands, while today it is seeking a new balance between conservation and tourism. In Scotland, meanwhile, the freedom to cross the landscape is built on responsibility and mutual trust between those who live there and those who pass through.

Three countries, three walking cultures and three different ways of shaping the relationship between people and nature.

Perhaps this is the greatest lesson I take home after every journey: a trail does not simply tell us where we are going. It tells the story of the landscape it crosses, of the people who have lived there and of the way a community has learned to coexist with its environment.

And that is precisely what I try to share with the people I guide: not simply an itinerary, but a different way of seeing the place we are walking through.

Who is Nerinka Quadrelli

Born in Varese, Nerinka Quadrelli now lives in Champoluc, in the heart of Italy’s Aosta Valley. Mountains have been part of her life since childhood, first as her everyday environment and, over time, as her profession.

After gaining experience in the high-altitude mountain huts of the Monte Rosa massif and developing her expertise through mountaineering, winter sports and an in-depth knowledge of the alpine environment, she qualified as an Environmental Hiking Guide in 2016.

Today, she leads individuals and groups along Alpine trails and on journeys through the Nordic regions, sharing not only the beauty of the landscapes but also the natural, geological and cultural stories that shape them.