On the Wirral Trail: Finding Community With Merseyside’s Queer Hikers
I’ve never been one for serious hiking. A gentle walk with a nice view? Absolutely. But scrambling up muddy slopes, reading confusing trail maps, or chasing a summit that never seems to get closer? Not my thing. At least, that’s what I thought until I moved from New York City to Liverpool two years ago and got curious about a local group called Merseyside Queer Hikers.
The group kept popping up on Reddit whenever someone new asked about the queer scene in Liverpool. The recommendation was always the same: “Check out Merseyside Queer Hikers—they’re super welcoming.” As a millennial lesbian trying to make friends in a new country, I was intrigued but nervous. Showing up alone to a three-to-four-hour hike felt intimidating.
On a sunny Sunday in early May, I finally signed up. We met on the Wirral, a scenic peninsula across the River Mersey that I’d gazed at from Liverpool’s docks but never visited. That day, more than 40 of us gathered outside a coffee shop. The group’s founder, Heather Cooke, called out, “We’re gay, we’re outside, slay!” and we set off.
Cooke started the group in February 2024 after responding to a friend’s social media post about making queer friends. Since then, the group has grown to dozens of walks, two Pride marches, and a trans rights protest. They’ve also helped install a permanent trans and non-binary clothing swap at a local clinic and are planning a Big Gay Walk in 2026 to raise money for Liverpool’s oldest LGBTQ youth charity.
For many, the group offers more than just exercise. “When you look more physically queer or trans, walking alone can be intimidating,” Cooke told me. “Bathrooms along trails might not be gender neutral. Being in a group changes that.” One hiker said her therapist recommended the group. Another appreciated that he could feed ducks during lunch without feeling awkward.
I brought my toy poodle, Gus, and immediately ran into friends from roller derby. We walked along the coast, with views clear to Wales. The conversation flowed easily, and I logged more than 19,000 steps without a single stumble. Best of all, the whole afternoon was free—just train fare and a packed lunch.
“When I was growing up, I felt like the only queer feminine person in the world,” Cooke said. “But that day, walking past beaches I visited as a child, I was in the majority.” For a few hours, we all were.