I did not choose this path. The path chose me, and it did so by dismantling everything I had built until there was nothing left to hold onto except the call of the land itself.

For most of my adult life I was someone else entirely. I built a multi-award-winning catering company from nothing: Squid & Pear, feeding Jamie Oliver on his television productions, the cast and crew of The Hobbit for Warner Films, the cast of The Crown for Netflix, Parliament itself. I also owned and ran a café in Chelsea. I spoke at Google's London headquarters about my business. On the outside it looked like success. On the inside something was going very quiet.

I had chased the bright lights of London from a working-class upbringing in the North of England, and I had caught them. And standing in them I understood, with a clarity that arrived suddenly and did not leave, that this was not why I came.

So I walked away. From the business. From the marriage. From the life I had constructed with considerable effort and that fit me, in the end, the way someone else's coat fits: recognisably a coat, but not mine.

I bought a VW campervan. I named her Frida, after Frida Kahlo. And I drove.

A lifelong calling

The van years were not the beginning of this work. They were the chapter in which everything that had come before finally made sense.

I have been following the calling of my soul to places all over this world for as long as I can remember. In 2004 I lived with the Anangu Pitjantjatjara people, the sacred guardians of Uluru in Australia, in an experience that cracked open something in me I did not yet have the framework to understand. I have carried out deep land and people work at Angkor Wat in Cambodia: sitting with what that site holds, working with the layers of consciousness encoded into that landscape over centuries of sustained sacred use. Colombia, Vancouver, Bhutan, Borneo, India. So many places, each one a chapter in the same long remembering, each landscape giving me something specific that I did not know I was missing until it arrived.

I am a lifelong traveller and I am also something more specific than that: an Earthworker. Someone who does not simply visit sacred sites but enters into relationship with them: with the land intelligence, the elemental presences, the codes held within the stone and the soil and the water of places that have been worked with for far longer than any surviving record documents.

Every place I have ever been called to has prepared me for the next one. None of it was random. All of it was leading somewhere.

Four years on the road and the call of home

What I thought might be a few months in Frida became close to four years.

I slept in forests and beside stone circles, at the feet of mountains and along coastlines that no photograph has ever done justice to. I lived beside the Fairy Pools on the Isle of Skye, within walking distance of the Cuillin ridge, whose geological age and scale reorganised something in me at a cellular level. I spent months in the New Forest with the wild horses. I answered calls to sacred sites and portals in England, Wales, and Ireland: so many to name here, found not through guidebooks but through the same inner compass that has directed every journey of my life.

For three of those four years, Scotland held me.

The work during that time was focused entirely on my homeland of the UK, and Scotland specifically answered a call of a depth and persistence that I could not have anticipated and could not have ignored. The Magdalene codes were activated within me during those years in Scotland. I use that language precisely, not poetically: something ancient within my own field was unlocked by the landscape, by the sustained and unhurried relationship I entered into with it, and the person who emerged from those three years in Scotland was not the same person who had driven north in a campervan looking for she did not quite know what.

The Fortingall Yew and the gift I did not expect

In the churchyard of a quiet hamlet in Perthshire stands a yew tree that is over 5,000 years old. I had not planned to stop there. I had not planned most of what happened in those years. But standing beside that tree on a mild April morning, the mist still sitting low over the glen, something shifted in me that has never shifted back.

The Druidic tradition understood the yew as one of the deepest mysteries: a keeper at the boundary between the visible and invisible worlds, a living repository of ancient wisdom, a tree whose field carries the imprint of thousands of years of human ceremony. I did not know this when I arrived. I simply stood there and felt something go quiet in my chest in a way it had never gone quiet before.

The Yew invited me further in.

In a moment of deep communion that I can describe only as an invitation, I ingested some of her needles. What followed was three days of death and rebirth: a profound initiatory experience that cracked me open at a level no workshop, no teacher, no spiritual practice I had previously encountered had touched. I died to the self I had been. Something much older and much truer came through in her place.

When I came back, I could hear the plants.

This is not a metaphor. The plant kingdom communicates: in frequency, in feeling, in a knowing that arrives not through the thinking mind but through the body, through the heart, through the subtle channels that open when a human being has been sufficiently emptied of the noise of ordinary life to become receptive. The Fortingall Yew initiated me into that receptivity. Every plant conversation I have had since, every formulation in the Rock & Rose Rituals range, every scent blend and botanical infusion, carries the thread of what she gave me in those three days.

From that initiation came Rock & Rose Rituals: the candle range, the botanical bathing collections, the crystal ritual products, the sacred scent blends that are the heart of everything I make. Every product is a carrier of what the Yew transmitted: the frequency of the sacred feminine, the wisdom of the plant and elemental kingdoms, the ancient remembering that this landscape holds and is ready to offer to those who arrive with genuine openness.

Scent is not aesthetic in the tradition I work within. It is transmission. It bypasses the rational mind and speaks directly to the cellular memory: to the part of us that knows what the thinking mind has forgotten. Every candle, every botanical blend, every ritual product carries that intention. To return you, however gently, to the frequency of who you truly are.

Nourishment, beauty, joy, and love as primary spiritual technologies. The rose is my vibrational signature. Scent is my transmission.

Scotland is where I was shown all of this.

Tintagel, Daniel, and the life that built itself from the calling

The road had one more gift I was not expecting.

I was called to Tintagel on the Cornish coast: that extraordinary headland where the ruins of the castle sit above the sea and the land holds the Arthurian myth in its very stone, where the boundary between the worlds is as thin as anywhere I have encountered in these islands. I went because I was called, as I have always gone to places, without needing to know in advance what was waiting.

What was waiting was Daniel.

We met as we both roamed the castle grounds, two people who had each followed their own thread to the same place on the same day. That is the only way I know how to describe it, and it is entirely accurate. Daniel is now my partner, my collaborator, and my companion on most of our tours and retreats: a builder, a maker, a man who understands the land in his own register and who brings to this work a quality of presence and practical capability that makes everything we offer more complete.

He proposed to me at a waterfall in the Azores. I said yes before he finished the question.

Together we have continued to follow the calls as they come, splitting our time between Scotland, which remains a primary place of work and deep personal resonance for us both, and the Dorset coast, where in 2023 another calling arrived that neither of us had seen coming.

Conkers Magical Earth Academy and the children who are here to teach us

In 2023, from a calling that arrived with the same unmistakable quality as every calling that has shaped this life, Daniel and I built Conkers Magical Earth Academy at Upton Country Park on the Dorset coast.

Conkers is a nature-based creative academy for children: a space of magic, of earth wisdom, of imagination given full permission, set within 160 acres of extraordinary landscape. Potion making and wand crafting, dragon egg creation and faerie house building, crystal exploration and magical map making, forest adventures and the deep nourishment of children who are given the space to be exactly who they are without the pressure to be anything else.

We built it because we were asked to. The children being born now and those already here are a whole new level of human. They are more sensitive, more aware, more tuned to frequencies that the generations before them spent lifetimes trying to access. They arrive already knowing things. They are not here to be filled with information and shaped into productivity. They are here to show us something about who we can become: about the world that is possible when love and creativity and connection to the natural world are understood as the foundations of everything rather than the rewards at the end of it.

They are here to teach us. Conkers exists to protect that and to give it room.

The academy runs alongside Rock & Rose Adventures as part of the same ecosystem of work: the same intention expressed in different directions. Scotland calls the adults home to themselves. Conkers holds the space for the children who were never lost to begin with.

Why I guide

I did not set out to become a sacred travel guide. I set out to follow a call I could not ignore, and the years that followed shaped me into someone who can take others into this landscape with genuine knowledge of what it holds and genuine capacity to hold the space for what it offers.

When you travel with Rock & Rose Adventures you are not receiving a curated itinerary of interesting historical sites. You are being taken into a living landscape by someone who has spent years in direct relationship with it: who knows which sites are most active for which kinds of work, who can feel what the land is asking on any given day, who has done the preparation and the integration and the years of solitary wandering that made this level of attunement possible. Daniel travels with us on most journeys, bringing his own presence and capability to everything we hold together.

If you are feeling the call to certain sites, to certain landscapes, to something you cannot quite name but that has been with you for longer than you can account for: it will be our absolute pleasure and honour to be your guides. To take you where you need to be. To hold the space for whatever arrives when you get there.

Every journey begins with a personal conversation. You are invited to join a call with me, by video or by voice, prior to any booking. This is not a sales call. It is an alignment call: a conversation to ensure full energetic fit between what we offer and what you are genuinely seeking, and to begin the process of building an itinerary around you specifically.

Full itineraries are designed, discussed, and arranged with you. Every detail is considered. Nothing is generic.

A note on pricing

Bespoke tour pricing varies depending on duration, the fully guided or self-discovery format, accommodation choices, and the sites included. The base tour price does not include food, travel, or accommodation. If you would like assistance arranging or booking any of these, we can absolutely provide this and put together a full package and itinerary for you. Get in touch and we will build something that fits.

Soul retreat pricing, including full accommodation and meals, is listed on the Soul Retreats page.

Begin the conversation here.