I am no stranger to long walks - I have done quite a few, including Jordan north to south and crossing Morocco and the Sahara. However, I am a relatively new convert to doing it alone, self-guided and wild camping.

As a woman, I have always been wary of heading off into the wild totally alone, with just thin canvas between me and any possible nighttime scares. Also, I have a cripplingly poor sense of direction - not ideal for someone with the word "adventurer" in their email signature - so getting lost is always a real possibility.

The pros are seductive, though: cheap, no planning needed, and absolute freedom. I have wanted to go to the Hebrides since I read a 100-year-old article by fellow Scottish female explorer Isobel Wylie Hutchison, whose descriptions of the wind-blasted moors, hospitable people and ancient sites sucked me in.

The Hebridean Way is a 250km (155 mile) route, starting from the tiny island of Vatersay in the south and ending in the capital of the Outer Hebrides, Stornoway, on the Isle of Lewis. It encompasses 10 islands, six causeways and two ferries - one from Barra to Eriskay and the other from Bernerey to Leverburgh, Harris. Armed with the official book and map, as well as the AllTrails app, I was ready.

On day one I started with dry socks and a song in my heart. Two hours later I was flailing on my back, thigh deep in a bog, unable to right myself because my pack was pulling me down. Eventually I managed to roll over and onto my knees, pushing myself up to scramble out. It became clear that if I snapped an ankle out here, I was on my own. One of the great joys of the route was the solitude - it was six days before I saw another hiker - but this also had safety implications. I checked in with my brother every night, giving him my location, so at least someone knew where I was.

Each island I crossed had different characteristics. Barra had glittering white beaches, the Uists were a kind of sunken water world with dark skies and glimmering lochans, and Harris's landscape ranged from high, heather-clad moorland to large areas of grey gneiss rock and beaches with swirling different-coloured sands. Long-distance walking is a very visceral way to connect with the environment: you smell the moss, feel the rain and hear the bees in the heather. I even got caught in the middle of a murmuration of starlings.

If I found something to explore, I would take the time, as long as it was on my path. The mysterious standing stones scattered across the islands, for example. The Three False Men on North Uist have multiple legends attached to them. Were they spies who were buried alive and the stones mark the spot? Were they men who were turned to stone for adultery? Or were they placed there by the islanders to look like men standing guard?

Walking solo gives you endless time to think, while the physicality keeps your body occupied. And although "self-supported" just means you are carrying all your own stuff, for me, it also had psychological weight: I had to be my own friend and cheerleader. On my worst day, it took 10 hours to walk just five miles. It was on Harris and the views were magnificent but the terrain was hellish. Deep bogs sucked my boots in, constant ascents and descents drained my energy and as twilight descended, so did millions of midges. Face-net on and the sinking sun square in my face, I slipped and lurched down the last hill to flat land. And all through those hours I had to keep myself going. The best day was the next one - there was an actual path.

My haven was my tent, a Vango Helium UL2, which weighed just 1.3kg and kept me completely dry, even in torrential rain. When the midges were swarming, I could still cook by just popping a hand out from the inner lining. Pitching in the wild could be a real challenge, though, and I would always start looking for a pitch at least an hour before my ideal stopping point. I needed flat ground but not bog, shelter from the wind but enough wind to keep the midges at bay, and a water source nearby. I never once felt unsafe, although I didn't enjoy the night when I spotted ticks crawling up the lining.

The walk took me 15 days to complete. I ended it filthy - I had only one set of clothes and no way of washing - but with my mind cleansed. I had been in the elements constantly and nature had done its job, filling my eyes with sky and sea, moors and mountain and erasing the unnecessary chatter of everyday life. All the islanders I met were incredibly kind, offering me everything from fresh water to home-cooked food and a chat. I had revelled in the solitude of the walk, but my faith in human nature was left strengthened.

I walked solo through the Hebrides for 155 miles - I was alone for six days