Huck: Colour Collective Riders Are Reclaiming The Peaks

This week, I'm reposting an article I wrote for Huck Magazine about the connection between the original Kinder Trespass and the important work of modern groups such as the Colour Collective.

Photo: Wig

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Photo: Wig

When it comes to the ongoing, centuries-old narrative around access to the outdoors, the Peak District occupies a particularly symbolic position. It was here, on Saint George’s Day in 1932, that Benny Rothman and folk singer Ewan MacColl led 400 or so local ramblers on the celebrated Kinder Trespass. 

The participants were predominantly white working-class men, and they came from all over the North West. They met in Hayfield, from where they walked up to the Kinder Scout plateau. Their plan was to intentionally trespass on the Duke of Devonshire’s private land to assert their right of access. Atop the plateau, they clashed with the Duke’s gamekeepers before returning to Hayfield, where five men (including Rothman) were arrested and imprisoned.  

These dramatics aside, the trespass is still celebrated 90 years later because it fundamentally reframed the issue of access to the outdoors. For the first time, a group of outsiders challenged the cultural assumptions of the traditional outdoor establishment – epitomised by the Duke, who mainly used the land for grouse-hunting – and slightly hysterical contemporary headlines, such as ‘Mob Rule On The Moors!’, that appeared in the aftermath. 

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Photo: Wig

Today, the Kinder Trespass and its role in changing our perceptions of who our outdoor spaces are ‘for’ is part of accepted outdoor folklore. Yet, 90 years later, it’s clear that the work of opening up the outdoors for which the Trespass is so celebrated is only partially complete. 

Certainly, subsequent generations of white kids from the area, like myself, benefited greatly. Growing up in Manchester, I spent my youth exploring what writer Paul Morley calls ‘the beauty at the edges’ of the city. I unwittingly followed in the footsteps of those trespassing pioneers as I camped and cycled my way around places like Hayfield, Buxton and the Goyt Valley. 

But looking back, I’m struck by how few non-white faces I encountered along the way, an anecdotal observation which a recent survey by the British National Parks Authority starkly confirms: they found that only 1 per cent of visitors identify as non-white, despite making up 14 per cent of the population. 

In specific sports like mountain biking, the issue is also acute. Take a recent survey by online mountain biking community Singletracks, which found that more than 90 per cent of its readers identified as white. Such context is why the work of groups such as the Colour Collective, Black Trail Runners and Muslim Hikers (all of whom seek to increase diversity in our outdoor spaces) is so important in the grand, convention-breaking tradition of the Kinder Trespass. For anybody with a basic understanding of the history of outdoor access in this country, the parallels are obvious. 

Both movements faced ridicule and opprobrium from both the traditional and the outdoor establishment. Both movements share an extremely simple goal: making the outdoors a place for everybody, while dismantling the barriers to entry that stop this outcome from becoming a reality. 

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