I Took My Kid Alpaca Walking, And She Hated It: Here’s What I Wish I’d Known

I paid actual money to create a wholesome core memory with my daughter… but approx seven minutes into our alpaca trek, it became apparent that the core memory was going to be mine. But, in my defence, alpaca walking with kids does sound lovely…

Cute animals. Fresh air. A nice walk through the countryside. Maybe a few adorable photos. The sort of wholesome family activity you book while congratulating yourself for dragging your child away from screens and into nature.

What could possibly go wrong?

As it turns out, absolutely nothing. Maybe that was the problem.

The alpaca experience delivered exactly what it promised. We met alpacas. We fed alpacas. We learned more about alpacas than I previously thought it was possible for one human being to know. Then we walked the alpacas.

My seven-year-old hated approximately 85% of it.

So, if you’re considering alpaca walking with kids, gather round. Because there are a few things I wish I’d thought about before booking.

It started with my dream of an off-grid family holiday

We were staying in a very rural part of Dorset and, before we arrived, the idea of putting my phone on Do Not Disturb and disappearing into the countryside for a week sounded idyllic.

And for me, it was. For my seven-year-old, the novelty of being off-grid wore off significantly faster.

It quickly became apparent that my peaceful rural retreat was, from her perspective, just a house in the middle of nowhere with fuck all to do.

So I did what any parent trying desperately to salvage the holiday would do: started frantically Googling things to do with kids near me and gradually increasing the acceptable driving radius.

And then I found the alpaca experience.

We could meet them. Feed them. Learn about them. Take one each on a proper trek. Perfect.

Something different? Tick.

Something cute? Tick.

Something fun? Surely.

Something memorable? Absolutely.

The alpaca feeding should probably have been my first clue

When we arrived, we signed the waiver and headed out to meet the alpacas.

We were each handed a cup of food, at which point approximately 20 alpacas realised the new people had snacks and descended upon us.

This was fine.

We stood with our backs against the fence, feeding them while they all crowded around trying to get their heads into the cups.

Until my daughter got overwhelmed.

Faced with the classic fight-or-flight response, she inexplicably chose a secret third option:

Run further into the alpacas.

So now she’s in the middle of a crowd of hungry alpacas with animals coming at her from every direction, and I’m trying to swoop in and extract her while simultaneously being knocked off balance by alpacas who could not give less of a shit about this developing family situation because I was still holding food.

Eventually everyone was retrieved.

No humans or alpacas were harmed.

Lovely.

Time to learn some facts.

We learned some facts

And by some, I mean every alpaca fact that has ever existed.

Now, I need to stress that the educational talk was part of the experience. It was advertised. We knew it was happening. Nothing here was a surprise.

But I’ve since discovered that an hour written on a booking page and an hour when you’re sitting beside a seven-year-old are two completely different units of time.

Four of us gathered around a table — me, my daughter and a young couple — while the owner gave us the full alpaca education.

And fair play to her, this woman knew her alpacas.

We learned about their behaviour. Their biology. Their mating habits. How they give birth.

We also learned about her seemingly deep-rooted disdain for llamas, which I hadn’t anticipated but thoroughly enjoyed.

At one point we learned that alpacas can defend themselves against predators by biting them in the genital area.

I did not know this.

My daughter did not need to know this.

Nevertheless, here we were.

And lest our imaginations fail us, there was a folder of printed photographs being passed around to illustrate various parts of the talk.

Have you ever found yourself sitting in the Dorset countryside trying to explain to your seven-year-old why she’s looking at a close-up photograph of an alpaca’s vagina?

No?

To her absolute credit, she remained incredibly polite.

She listened.

She nodded.

She looked interested.

I, however, know my child.

I could see the light gradually leaving her eyes.

Eventually she turned to me and quietly pleaded:

“Oh Mummy, please can we not learn any more alpaca facts?”

Reader, we were not finished with the alpaca facts.

And then we had to walk one

Finally, it was time for the trek.

This was going to turn things around.

We were each paired with an alpaca, given the lead and set off for what would be around an hour’s walk through the countryside.

For approximately four minutes, this was exciting.

Unfortunately, we’d picked a boiling hot day.

Quite rightly, the route had been chosen to keep the alpacas as cool and comfortable as possible, which meant sticking to the shadiest parts of the land.

Do you know what else thrives in shady bits of the British countryside?

Nettles.

Brambles.

Long, itchy grass.

Do you know what my daughter was wearing?

Shorts.

Fantastic.

One hour is a very long time when you’re seven

The alpacas also had a preferred walking order, which meant my daughter ended up ahead of me with another alpaca and its human walking between us.

The owner was at the front with her.

I was behind….and I knew.

I knew that if it had just been the two of us, I’d currently be hearing about the heat.

And the walking.

And the nettles.

And the brambles.

And the grass touching her legs.

Instead, because another adult was there, my daughter had apparently decided to represent the family with dignity.

So every so often I’d shout ahead:

“Is she okay?”

And the owner would cheerfully shout back:

“Yeah! She’s great!”

Reader, she was not great.

I have known this child for seven years.

I knew with absolute certainty that underneath that polite exterior was a seven-year-old composing a formal complaint against her mother.

Still, she didn’t moan once.

Meanwhile, I was discovering another important truth about alpaca walking: alpacas don’t necessarily share your enthusiasm for walking in a straight line.

Ours were perfectly calm and lovely, but occasionally stubborn, and after an hour of negotiating with a large fluffy animal in the scorching heat while being assaulted by British vegetation, some of the wholesome fantasy had started to wear off for me too.

An hour and fifteen minutes later, we returned. My daughter said nothing. She just looked at me.

It was not a warm look.

Unfortunately, we still weren’t finished

Back at the farm, we watched the alpacas rolling around in what I can only describe as alpaca catnip.

Under normal circumstances, this would have been adorable.

My daughter was now tugging at my arm asking for a drink and enquiring when we could leave.

I decided we’d absorbed enough alpaca culture for one lifetime.

We said our thank-yous and got in the car.

Silence.

Not stroppy silence, either.

The sort of silence that suggests someone has been through an ordeal and isn’t yet ready to process it.

I drove.

She stared out of the window.

At this point I did what generations of mothers before me have done when attempting to repair a relationship with a child they’ve inadvertently wronged.

I bought ice cream.

By the time we reached McDonald’s, my daughter still hadn’t spoken much.

I ordered her a McFlurry.

Perhaps this could turn the day around.

Perhaps one day we’d laugh about it.

Perhaps.

I handed it to her.

She looked at me and finally spoke.

“I don’t know why you thought I’d want to do all that.”

And honestly?

Fair.

I couldn’t stop laughing.

Because what could I say?

She was right.

Nobody had tricked me.

Nothing had been badly organised.

There had been no misleading description.

I’d read exactly what the experience involved and, wearing the rose-coloured glasses issued to mothers attempting to Create Core Memories™, had simply decided my child would obviously love it.

She had not.

So, is alpaca walking good for kids?

Here’s the annoying answer: it completely depends on the kid.

And I don’t think simply asking “does my child like animals?” is enough.

My daughter is very comfortable around animals. She’s spent much of her life around a wildlife rescue, so this wasn’t a child who had never been close to anything bigger than a hamster.

But there’s a big difference between liking animals and having 20 alpacas descend on you because you’re holding their lunch.

If you’re considering alpaca walking with children, I’d think about how your child reacts around a large, enthusiastic dog.

Now make the dog taller.

Then add several more of them.

Then give your child the snacks.

That’s probably a better starting point.

What I wish I’d considered before alpaca walking with a child

Looking back, there were no red flags I couldn’t have anticipated. I just hadn’t really stopped to think about what the experience would feel like to her.

So before booking an alpaca walk with kids, I’d check a few things.

How long is the whole experience?

Two hours didn’t sound particularly long when I booked it. But an hour-long educational talk followed by an hour-long trek can feel very different when you’re seven.

How long is the actual walk?

Again: “one-hour alpaca trek” sounds lovely.

One hour of walking in hot weather while responsible for an animal that may have its own opinions about speed and direction is another matter entirely.

What should kids wear alpaca walking?

This one is entirely on me.

If there’s any chance you’ll be walking through fields, woodland or overgrown paths, trousers and sensible shoes are probably a better bet than shorts.

Learn from us.

How confident are they around larger animals?

Alpacas are generally calm, but they’re still relatively large animals. Feeding time in particular can feel quite intense when several of them want what you’re holding.

Will they actually enjoy the educational bit?

Some kids absolutely will.

If you’ve got a child who collects animal facts like Pokémon cards, they might think they’ve hit the jackpot.

If yours starts mentally checking out after Fact Number Six, find out how much of the experience involves listening before you book.

How old do children need to be to walk an alpaca?

This varies between alpaca experiences, so check the individual provider’s rules rather than assuming your child will be able to lead one themselves.

Some younger children may need to share an alpaca with an adult, while other experiences have minimum ages for joining the trek at all.

And even if your child is old enough, ask yourself whether they’ll actually enjoy being responsible for leading one for the duration of the walk.

Would I recommend alpaca walking with kids?

Weirdly… yes.

With caveats.

If you’ve got an animal-mad child who’s confident around larger animals, enjoys walking and would genuinely be interested in learning about alpacas, I can see them absolutely loving it.

For younger kids, I’d probably look for a shorter alpaca experience rather than automatically booking the full educational talk and trek.

And I’d definitely find out exactly how long each part lasts beforehand.

Because that was my biggest mistake.

I booked the experience based on how it sounded to me.

I didn’t really stop to imagine how two hours of alpaca immersion might sound to a seven-year-old.

Apparently the answer was: “Not good.”

Would we do it again?

Absolutely fucking not.

Would I undo it?

Also no.

Because here’s the really annoying thing.

We’ve had loads of lovely days out.

We’ve done London. Hamleys. Bath. Alton Towers. Museums. Theme parks. Hotels. Carefully researched activities I’ve spent hours planning because apparently I have chosen “manufacturing childhood memories” as an unpaid second career.

And I have a horrible feeling that when my daughter is 20, one of the days she’ll actually remember is the afternoon her mother made her learn about alpaca vaginas before marching her through a field of nettles in 25-degree heat.

Because nobody really remembers the days where everything goes exactly to plan.

It took her approximately ten days before she was ready to discuss the alpaca incident again.

We can laugh about it now.

Well, I can.

She’s getting there.

So full disclosure: my daughter hated approximately 85% of this experience.

But the important thing is that I had fun.