Do I Really Need a YouTube Niche?

One of the things I keep hearing whenever the subject of creating a successful YouTube channel comes up is: “You need a niche.”

Apparently, you need to choose one particular subject, stick to it, and keep producing videos around that same topic indefinitely.

But why?

Why do I need to put myself into a box and become the YouTube equivalent of a blinkered horse, with tunnel vision and no room to look left or right?

I have nearly 70 years of life experience behind me. Over those years, I’ve developed countless hobbies, interests and passions. Some have lasted for decades, while others have come and gone with the seasons. That’s simply part of being human.

And that is precisely why I struggle with the whole “you must have a niche” philosophy.

What happens when life changes?

Suppose I had decided that my YouTube niche was camping or hiking when I first started my channel.

At the time, that might have seemed perfectly sensible. I enjoy the outdoors, I enjoy exploring, and I enjoy sharing those experiences.

But what happens when life throws you a curveball?

My ongoing health and mobility issues have changed what I can physically do. If camping or hiking had been the entire foundation of my channel, I could potentially have found myself with very little left to create.

The niche would have become a limitation.

But I’m not a machine.

I’m a breathing, thinking human being. My circumstances change. My interests change. My abilities change. And, just like the seasons, my hobbies and interests can change too.

That doesn't mean I'm inconsistent. It means I'm human.

So, pick a niche… but is it actually unique?

We're constantly told to find a niche, preferably one with an audience, low competition and plenty of opportunities to make money.

But there’s another question that doesn't seem to get asked often enough:

How many other people are already doing exactly the same thing?

You can find thousands of channels dedicated to camping, fishing, hiking, photography, technology, cooking, cars, travel, and virtually every other subject imaginable.

So yes, you've picked a niche.

But how different are you from the thousands of other people making videos about exactly the same thing?

That's where I take a different approach.

My niche is me.

My channel isn't about one particular hobby.

My channel is about me, my hobbies, my interests, my experiences, and the things I find interesting.

One week, I might be exploring a Kentish village and looking into its history. Another week I might be talking about photography, drones, kayaking, music, the countryside, something I've learned over the years, or simply an experience or thought I want to share.

And that's the beauty of it.

I don't have to worry about running out of ideas because my life isn't confined to one subject.

My niche, if you really want to call it that, is being myself.

The YouTube guru machine

Of course, there is an enormous industry built around telling people how to “make it” on YouTube.

You hear the same advice repeatedly:

Find your niche.
Know your audience.
Post consistently.
Follow the algorithm.
Grow your channel.
Monetise.
Make money.

And then comes the promise that if you follow the formula, success is just around the corner.

I'm not suggesting that all YouTube advice is bad. Far from it. There is plenty to learn, and understanding how YouTube works can certainly help.

But sometimes I wonder whether we've become so obsessed with algorithms, analytics, niches, thumbnails, click-through rates and monetisation that we've forgotten something rather important.

We're supposed to be making videos because we have something we want to share.

Not because we've been told that a particular formula will make us rich.

What about the people who give up?

Something else rarely gets talked about.

How many people follow the advice of the YouTube gurus, choose their niche, spend months creating videos, obsess over their statistics, and wait for the subscribers and money to arrive?

And then, twelve months later, they're exhausted.

The enthusiasm has disappeared.

The numbers haven't lived up to expectations.

The promised riches haven't materialised.

And eventually, they stop making videos altogether.

Perhaps their problem wasn't that they chose the wrong niche.

Perhaps they simply turned something they enjoyed into a job before they had even given themselves the opportunity to enjoy it.

I'm not chasing the dream of riches

Don't get me wrong. If my channel eventually makes some money, I'll certainly be happy about that.

But making money isn't the reason I create.

I'm nearly 70 years old. I've lived a life. I've made mistakes, learned lessons, developed interests, changed direction, and experienced things that I couldn't possibly have imagined when I was younger.

Why would I suddenly decide that all of that has to fit neatly into one little YouTube box?

I want to make videos about the things that interest me now.

And when those interests change, I'll make videos about something else.

Maybe the algorithm won't like it.

Maybe the YouTube gurus won't approve.

Maybe my channel will never become a huge money-making machine.

And honestly?

I'm okay with that.

Because I'd rather have a smaller channel where I can be myself than build a larger one by pretending to be something I'm not.

I'm a real person, not a content-production machine.

I don't want tunnel vision.

I want curiosity.

I want variety.

I want to keep learning, exploring, creating, and sharing.

And as long as I have something that interests me, I'll have something to make a video about.

So, do I have a niche?

Perhaps I do.

It's called life.

Growing Older, Not Giving Up: Finding Adventure in a Different Way

I still love a bit of adventure and the outdoors, but I now have to look at it and do it differently.

Sadly, gone are the days when I could throw a 15kg (33lb) backpack over my shoulders, walk for miles, find somewhere to pitch a tent, and happily spend the night under the stars. Back then, the heavier the pack and the more remote the destination, the better.

These days, my idea of adventure involves rather more forward planning.

Even when I go kayaking, I have to think about things I would never have given a second thought to in the past. Is there an easy-access launch point? How far will I have to carry the kayak? Are there any awkward or lengthy portages along the route? Can I park reasonably close to the water? What might look like a simple paddle on a map can involve quite a bit of logistical planning when your body isn't quite as cooperative as it once was.

Is all this age-related?

Indirectly, yes.

But it isn't necessarily my age itself that prevents me from doing many of the things I once enjoyed. It is the collection of physical problems that have arrived with it — many of which are, at least in part, the result of how I have lived my life for nearly seven decades.

My work-hard, play-hard approach to life has finally caught up with me.

Over the past five years, especially, my body has made its feelings known. Osteoarthritis in both knees, chronic lower-back pain, and a collection of injuries have gradually changed what I can comfortably do. At the moment, shoulder tendonitis is adding another restriction to the list.

For years, I simply got on with things. If something hurt, I carried on. If I was tired, I pushed through it. If an activity was difficult, I somehow found a way around the problem.

Perhaps that worked when I was younger.

It doesn't work quite so well now.

During visits to doctors, hospitals, and various tests, I have increasingly heard phrases such as "at your age" and even the rather less diplomatic "old bones." 😂

For a long time, I would probably have laughed them off.

But eventually, you have to accept reality.

I am getting old.

And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.

When I finally retired from work last year, at 68, because I had become physically unable to continue doing my job, that reality really hit home. Retirement wasn't simply the end of a career; it was also a point where I had to accept that I couldn't keep living physically as I had done for most of my life.

Would I change the past?

Not a chance.

I've had a bloody good run. I've worked hard, travelled, explored, practised martial arts, enjoyed the countryside, camped, paddled, walked, and generally thrown myself into life.

I wouldn't swap those experiences for anything.

But while I wouldn't change the past, I have had to change the present.

And that means adapting.

These days, my hobbies have evolved into things that allow me to remain active and engaged without constantly fighting against my own body.

Flatwater kayaking has replaced some of the more demanding paddling I once enjoyed. My walks are shorter, but that doesn't mean they have become less interesting. I can spend a few hours wandering through a woodland, exploring a village or visiting a historic place of interest without needing to walk ten miles to feel that I've achieved something.

Sometimes, the journey is simply about slowing down enough to actually notice what is around me.

I've also discovered fishkeeping, which might seem about as far removed from outdoor adventure as you could possibly get.

But in a strange way, it brings some of the outdoors into the house.

There is something wonderfully calming about sitting and watching an aquarium. Maintaining it, learning about the fish and plants, and simply observing what is happening inside that little underwater world gives me another connection with nature.

And then there is video production.

My videos allow me to combine several of the things I still enjoy: getting outdoors, exploring places, history, photography, filming and storytelling — while doing it at a pace that my body can tolerate.

I'm not pretending that I am still the bloke who could strap a huge backpack to his back and disappear into the countryside for days.

I'm not.

But I'm still out there.

And perhaps that is the important bit.

Through my videos, although I am really just being myself and sharing the things that interest me, there is also a quiet message behind them.

You don't necessarily have to be fit, young, strong, or completely mobile to enjoy the outdoors.

You might have to change how you experience it, but that doesn't mean you have to stop experiencing it.

Maybe your adventure is now a short woodland walk rather than a full-day hike. Perhaps it is sitting beside a river instead of paddling several miles. Maybe it is visiting a village and exploring its history rather than climbing a mountain.

And if getting outdoors simply isn't possible on a particular day, that doesn't mean the day has to be wasted.

Find something you can do indoors.

Read. Create. Paint. Build something. Keep fish. Make videos. Learn something new. Plan your next outing. Watch the birds from the window. Do whatever keeps your mind active and your curiosity alive.

Then, when your body gives you another opportunity to get outside, take it.

Because the reality of life is that we are all going to get old.

There is no clever way around it.

Our bodies change, our abilities change, and, eventually, the things we once took for granted may become difficult or impossible.

But growing older doesn't have to mean simply surviving the years that remain.

We can adapt.

We can find different ways of doing the things we love.

We can discover completely new interests.

And we can continue to have adventures, even if those adventures look very different from the ones we had when we were younger.

So yes, I have had to slow down.

I've had to put the big backpack away, shorten my walks, choose my kayaking locations more carefully, and accept that sometimes my body is going to say no.

But I'm still here.

I'm still curious.

I'm still exploring.

I'm still making plans.

And, whenever possible, I'm still getting outdoors.

Perhaps getting older isn't about giving up the things you love.

Perhaps it's about learning how to love them differently.

Farningham: A Walk Through A Quintessential Kentish Village.

Join me as I take a walk through Farningham, a beautiful historic village in Kent, and discover the fascinating history hiding in this quiet corner of the Darent Valley.

 

Although Farningham may look like a peaceful Kentish village today, its history goes back thousands of years. In this video, we explore some of the places that have helped shape Farningham over the centuries, including St Peter and St Paul’s Church, Market Meadow, the historic Lion Hotel, the River Darent, Farningham Mill and the old High Street.

Along the way, we also discover some of the interesting people connected with Farningham, including Admiral William Bligh, Charles Dickens, Marianne Farningham, and Major W. G. Wilson.

It was a real pleasure making this video, especially since I live only a few miles from Farningham. It’s one of those places that I’ve passed through many times, but researching its history and actually taking the time to walk around and look at the village properly gave me a completely different appreciation of what’s right on my doorstep.

I’ve combined walking footage with aerial views captured with my DJI Mini 4 Pro to give you a different perspective on Farningham, the River Darent, and the surrounding Kent countryside.

I hope you enjoy coming along with me and discovering a little more about this fascinating Kent village.

Sometimes you don't have to travel miles to find somewhere with a great story. You just have to slow down, have a wander, and look around.

Thanks for watching, and I’ll see you again... Out & About. 🚶‍♂️🎥

The View from Above: Privacy, Photography and Perspective

It goes without saying that whenever you share photographs or video footage of property or people publicly on social media, there will always be somebody who feels that the images are an invasion of privacy. I accept that. People are entitled to their opinions, and I certainly don’t expect everyone to see things in the same way.

That said, provided I am not trespassing, taking inappropriate images, or flying my drone illegally, I am perfectly entitled to exercise my freedom of expression.

This morning, I shared a couple of photographs of Farningham Mill in a local private Facebook group. They were very well received by the majority of members, with plenty of flattering comments. What I found interesting, though, was just how differently people can perceive exactly the same photographs.

Several people actually asked whether I would capture some aerial video footage over their houses and streets. On the other hand, a couple of people said they felt that my photographs and video footage of the mill were an invasion of privacy and could potentially create a safety concern by making the property more visible to criminals.

Now, their comments were not a rant, and I genuinely appreciate that they were simply expressing their concerns and opinions. Because they were polite about it, I didn't feel the need to launch into a detailed explanation of the legalities of what I was doing.

I could have pointed out that I was flying at an altitude where I was legally entitled to fly over the mill estate and capture images. I could also have mentioned that I am an experienced drone operator, registered with the CAA (Civil Aviation Authority), and carry £10 million of liability insurance for both leisure and commercial drone operations.

But I didn't.

Instead, I simply pointed out that Google Earth already gives anyone with an internet connection a remarkably detailed aerial view of around 90% of the planet. If someone really wanted to look at the layout of the estate from above, they don't necessarily need me and my little drone to do it.

As for the concerns about security and the possibility of increased criminal activity, I would imagine that an estate where apartments start at around £4 million, and where residents presumably pay substantial annual management and service charges, probably has rather more sophisticated security arrangements than simply relying on a gated entrance and a cheap Ring doorbell.

At the end of the day, though, you can't please all of the people all of the time.

Some people see an aerial photograph of Farningham Mill and think, "What a beautiful place."

Others see exactly the same photograph and think, "That's a breach of privacy."

And that, I suppose, is the nature of photography and social media. We all see the world through our own eyes.