Where responsibility lies when social media inspired mountaineers get into trouble

12 hours ago

Two walkers find themselves stranded on a remote hillside as night closes in, hundreds of miles from home, after being inspired out into the wilderness by a TikTok video. It might sound like an unusual emergency - but for Mike Park, CEO of Mountain Rescue England and Wales, it's become a familiar story.

"We had two people stuck on a hill at 8pm, no torches. One was in their early 20s and the other was late 30s. It was their first time on a hill. They'd travelled a long way because they'd seen a TikTok route. They set off on their walk at 2pm - too late - wearing shorts, T‑shirts and carrying only a picnic," he recalls.

"They got off‑route, found themselves in unfamiliar ground – but they did the right thing by calling for help."

Park says this recent rescue, just a few days ago in the Lake District, is typical of the kind of callouts many colleagues now see.

His rescue team were able to safely find the pair and walk them off the hill – but the incident perfectly captures some changing behaviours. Their situation was self-inflicted; they weren't prepared and got into trouble, extra layers and some good torches could have seen them rescue themselves - but they were also quick to call for help when they knew something was wrong - a decision Park says saved them from far more severe consequences.

"If we hadn't reached them, they'd have been stuck all night in the dark. By morning, I'm confident they'd be suffering hypothermia - possibly unable to walk."

Over the past few years, mountain rescue teams say there's been a stark rise in the number of people needing to be rescued.

This has ignited a delicate but important debate. Who is responsible for safety on our mountains? And, are increased warning signs and even barriers the answer to saving lives in our most dangerous landscapes, or is risk the price we pay for true adventure?

The rise in callouts

Mountain rescue callouts have been steadily rising for decades. Sport England figures suggest there's been a particular boom in recent years, with the number of us regularly climbing a hill or mountain rising from 2.8m people in 2018 to 3.6m in 2024.

Living an active lifestyle is something the public body estimates could be saving the NHS billions each year, by reducing the number of people developing chronic conditions.

However, it's also contributed to sharp rises in the number of rescues required by the volunteers who make up the UK's so-called "fourth emergency service".

In England and Wales, the number of callouts rescue teams attend has doubled in the past decade, reaching well over 3,000 a year by 2024, according to Mountain Rescue England and Wales.

One of the key themes rescue teams pick up on is how incidents featuring younger adventurers, aged 18 to 24, have soared in recent years. Callouts for the age group almost doubled in England and Wales between 2019 and 2024, from 166 to 314.

It now makes them the most rescued age group, overtaking walkers in their 50s who had previously needed the most help.

Mike Park has spent the past 40 years on the hills of the Lake District, rescuing those in danger. He has observed a significant shift among younger people in embracing the outdoors - but says he believes better technology and wider social changes in the past few decades have also fed into the overall rise.

"It doesn't matter what age you are - society is more adventurous, more reliant on help, less outdoor‑aware, and less prepared," he says.

"When I first started our team did 10-15 callouts a year. We average around 100 now. The rise hasn't been steady - it's steepened sharply, especially in the last 10 years and after Covid-19."

Park believes part of what makes the mountains of the UK so attractive is that most can be easily accessed for a day-trip - at worst a short weekend break. They are on our doorstep, via the same motorways and service stations we might stop at on our way to a theme park or music gig.

This can breed a sense of overfamiliarity - with some misjudging just how alien and dangerous these environments can be, he suggests.

Park says decades ago, many people who went into the UK's mountains would have it as their sole major pastime, they were "hillwalkers or mountaineers, that was it". Now, outdoor adventures are easy to pick up alongside the many other work and leisure activities people juggle.

"There's so much to do now, we don't concentrate on any one thing. People might do the outdoor environment one week, swimming the next, holiday the week after," he says.

Rescuers say it should be seen as only good news that millions of people are now inspired each year to venture into the outdoors themselves, encouraged by stories of the physical and mental health benefits - and beautiful images spread across social media.

But the reality of having so many novices is also starting to take its toll on some of the UK's busiest rescue teams, who are increasingly grappling with exhaustion and stretched staffing.

It's important to note that no rescue team we spoke to begrudge doing these kinds of rescues - they are grateful they can help those who need it and avoid the situation getting any worse. It doesn't matter how you got there, just that they can help you get down safely.

But according to Park, the fact people are seemingly more willing to take risks in the first place - and then more willing to pick up the phone when things go wrong - has fundamentally changed what kind of rescues his teams do.

"Ten years ago, 70% of callouts were because someone physically couldn't get off a hill," he says.

"Now, most people haven't physically injured themselves - it's that they're mentally unable to get down, because they weren't prepared for the environment."

In other words, people's bodies are capable of getting them off the mountains, but they lack the experience, confidence or equipment to do it safely.

Online influencers

Many mountain rescuers believe the increase in online influencers is playing a role. There are pictures and videos across sites like TikTok and Instagram encouraging people to venture out to beautiful plateaus and waterfalls.

Seeing people influenced by social media "used to be rare, but now it's constant," explains Martin McMullan, from the Mourne Mountain Rescue Team in Northern Ireland.

"People search out iconic locations made popular by influencers. Some go just to experience it - others are trying to create their own content for their platforms."

In some rare cases, McMullan says influencers may even be attempting to get rescued - to create more interesting content for their channels. He became suspicious of one case a few years ago, when his team was called to Northern Ireland's highest peak in "very serious" sub-zero winter conditions.

At the summit McMullan says they found a group of young people who they escorted part of the way down, before calling in a helicopter to evacuate them to safety. It was only days later, when a friend alerted him to it, that McMullan realised the whole thing had been filmed by the group, clutching onto their phones as they were rescued.

"They'd been livestreaming parts of it - even when things became dangerous. We were oblivious to it at the time. They probably thought it made great social media content."

McMullen says although being far from the first time he'd had a rescue filmed by members of the public keen to capture the drama of the job, it was the first time his team suspected a group had gone out with the idea of getting rescued, something they denied.

Hotspots

The vast majority of mountain rescue teams, thankfully, rarely find themselves called out to a death. But the spread is far from even and there are certainly hotspots.

The rescue team covering Yr Wyddfa, Snowdon, is far and away the busiest in the UK. The team is often called to fatal incidents and has seen a rise in deaths. Across north Wales, there were 14 fatalities in the mountains back in 2015. Last year there were 23.

So-called body recovery callouts can have a significant impact on the rescuers, with a growing importance being placed on welfare checks and support for the teams who regularly battle the elements to retrieve bodies so they can be returned to their loved ones.

There have been suggestions that putting up physical warning signs, or even fencing, on some of the UK's most dangerous ridges and waterfalls could potentially save lives. The National Trust and conservation project, Fix the Fells, recently decided signs were needed to prevent accidents on England's highest mountain, Scafell Pike.

Over eight years, four people died and more than 40 were rescued from the treacherous ravine known as Piers Gill, before a sign and large rocks were placed on the nearby route to encourage people away from the area.

In mid-Wales, one assistant coroner has recommended multiple times that signs be put up around some of the region's impressive waterfalls. Five people have died at the beauty spots in the past few years, which has prompted the assistant coroner for south Wales central, Rachel Knight, to write three Prevention of Future Death Reports - recommending improvements.

In the most recent one, she argued clearer warning signs were needed for walkers who risked falling from the paths above the waterfalls – suggesting without them, many would fail to understand "the significant risks they face" in the area and more people were likely to die.

So could putting up signs work in other remote areas?

Andy Buchan is due to take over Mike Park's role at Mountain Rescue England and Wales in May.

In some of the most extreme areas, like Crib Goch, a notorious knife edge ridge in north Wales with annual fatalities, Buchan says some ideas should be considered.

"I won't call it signposting in terms of actually putting signs up on the mountain, but certainly signposting towards more information could really help."

Buchan suggests that in rescue hotspots such as Crib Goch, which does already have some warnings placed on the route, more could be done to help walkers access weather forecasts and safety information before they get to an area - potentially by placing additional signs or QR codes in car parks hikers are likely to use before heading out.

However, what Buchan and others I speak to really don't want to see - despite some potential benefits - is the same widespread canvassing of signs and fencing witnessed in other countries.

"There are other parts of the world that I've travelled, like the US, where you can get to remote places and then all of a sudden, when you want to go and have a look at the view over the cliff, there's a big metal barrier around and there's concrete being put in place and it kind of destroys the remoteness of the location that you're in," Buchan explains.

'The mountain isn't going anywhere'

In preparing for the role, Buchan has had plenty of time to think about the current challenges, but is overwhelmingly positive about seeing more people out on the hills.

"We encourage people to get outside for their physical and mental wellbeing," he says. "People recognise the countryside is a cost‑effective way to have great experiences. It's great - but it does come with risk."

The story of Jack Carne is testament to that. Jack and his two best friends had travelled a few hours from their hometown of Barnsley to reach the mountains of Eryri, also known as Snowdonia, in north Wales. Inspired, after the Covid-19 lockdowns, by the freedom the mountains offered them, the trio in their 20s had been out hiking at every possible opportunity. They were committed, fit and experienced - but on this occasion, just "10 metres from the top" of Glyder Fawr, a peak thousands of feet up, everything went wrong.

A rock Jack had grabbed hold of broke away in his hands. His friends could do nothing as they watched him fall. In just an instant he was gone - disappearing out of sight beneath them. Three friends went up the mountain that day. Only two came back.

It was the starkest reminder possible about the unpredictability and the dangers lurking just beneath the surface of the UK's most picturesque landscapes – even for those who come prepared.

At the inquest into Jack's death, the coroner remarked how the young men were all well-equipped and experienced enough for the route they'd chosen.

"It was a scramble - nothing harder than anything we'd done before," Matty Belcher, one of those three friends, told me. "In fact it was easier than a lot of stuff we'd done," added the 27-year-old.

"Mountain Rescue said the boulder that actually took Jack was a freak accident," adds Brandan Smith, 25, the group's third member.

"That rock could have gone in a week's time, a year's time."

One week after Jack's death, Brandan and Matty were back at the same peak - this time making it the additional 10m to the summit, where they had time to reflect alongside Jack's dad, who they'd brought with them.

"Jack's dad wanted to see it - put his mind at ease, instead of guessing what happened," explains Matty.

For Brandan and Matty, it was a key moment - that inspired them to keep adventuring and not give up on the beauty of our landscape, despite the risks.

"Jack was the one who absolutely loved it the most out of us," says Brandan. "He was probably the best of us at climbing - he was brilliant - he always pushed me, believed I could do it even when I didn't.

"If we'd stopped going out after he died, Jack would've kicked us for it."

The key thing, both men say, is for those looking to adventure, to always be aware of the risks.

"For us, if someone isn't feeling safe, we turn back. No question. There's always another day," says Brandan. "It's always going to be there - the mountain isn't going anywhere."

Top picture credit: Getty Images

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