Arrive Early, and Have a Plan B

The most popular trailheads in Britain are busy by half nine. If you want a free spot at the side of a lane, aim to be there before eight, and earlier still on bank holidays, sunny Sundays and the first warm weekend of spring. A fellside pull-in that comfortably takes twenty cars will have twice that many people circling it by mid-morning, and rather fewer sensible places to leave a vehicle.

It helps to treat the whole outing as a journey with a plan B. Know a second and third possible starting point — a slightly further village, a larger lay-by, a different bridleway — and be willing to walk an extra mile or two from wherever you end up. That extra mile is rarely a hardship. A wander through a quiet hamlet to reach the open hill is often the nicest part of the day.

Lay-bys, Passing Places and the Careful Squeeze

A designated lay-by is the gold standard: a marked widening, a hard surface, and a position chosen because the road is wide enough there for a stationary car not to pinch the flow. Use them. Park tidily, close to the verge, wheels straight, so the next arrival can see at a glance that there is room for another car ahead or behind.

Passing places are not parking places. That bears repeating on single-track lanes, where a passing place may be the only spot for a quarter of a mile where two vehicles can get past each other. It can look wonderfully inviting — a neat gravel recess with room for two cars — but blocking one forces other drivers to reverse long distances on blind bends. Park in a passing place and you have transferred your convenience onto someone else's hazard.

A few habits worth keeping:

• Reverse into a space where you can, so you emerge forwards into better visibility.
• Leave a clear vehicle's width of road, and more on a bend or a crest.
• Keep well back from junctions, however quiet the lane appears.
• Keep your wheels off the footpath so a pushchair or a wheelchair can still get through.
• Note the nearest marker — a gate, a phone box, the third oak after the bridge — before you set off.

Farm Gates, Driveways and Other Things You Must Never Block

Rural lanes are working spaces. A five-bar gate at the end of a track is not boundary decoration; it is the entrance to a farm, a field of sheep, a milking parlour or a house whose drive you cannot see from the road. Gates must be able to swing fully open, both ways, at any hour. Never park across one, not even for twenty minutes, and never leave a car on the apron of gravel in front of it.

The same goes for private driveways, field entrances used by contractors, forestry tracks with a barrier, and the access to a reservoir, water works or communications mast. If a gap looks functional — no sign, but a surfaced run heading off into the trees — treat it as private and drive on. Farmers and estate workers start early and finish late; you may not see them arrive, but they will certainly see you.

Verges, Soft Ground and the Quiet Trap of Grass

Grass always looks firmer than it is. A verge that has held cars all summer can swallow a wheel to the axle after a wet week, and if you spin the tyres to escape you will tear the turf, leave a scar that lasts years and hand someone a repair bill. Read the verge before you trust it: if others have left ruts, stay off.

Where a verge really is the only option, keep all four wheels on it rather than straddling the edge, and check that the ground beneath is gravel or compacted earth rather than dark, spongy loam. In winter and after heavy rain, it is usually better to drive on and start your walk somewhere else. A slightly longer walk is a small price for not being the person whose car had to be pulled out by a tractor.

Village Halls and Other Kind Alternatives

Many villages have a small car park beside the hall, church or playing field. Some are free, some ask for a donation into an honesty box, and some are reserved for users of the building — so read the signs rather than assuming. Where a pub or café sits near a footpath, a polite word with staff and a promise to come back for lunch is a perfectly reasonable arrangement, and usually welcomed on a quiet weekday.

At busier honeypots, a modest pay-and-display car park is often the better choice, because the money goes towards path repair, toilets and the ranger who keeps the place walkable. Free parking is a pleasure, not a right, and the cheapest day out is the one that leaves the lane exactly as you found it.

Coming Back in the Dark

Countryside parking is a two-way bargain, and the second half of it happens on your return. Come back to the car quietly, don't slam doors or idle the engine in a sleeping hamlet, take your litter and any orange peel home with you, and close gates behind you on the way. If you are walking in winter, carry a torch and allow enough daylight to find the car without stumbling along a verge.

Above all, leave the lane as you would wish to find it: no ruts, no blocked gateway, no mystery about whether a tractor could get through at midnight. Do that, and both you and the people who live and work there will be glad to see walkers return next weekend.