23 February: Me, Harold Fry and Sir Ranulph Fiennes

I have to keep reminding myself that Harold Fry is a fictional character in a book. He's not real. I feel my own endeavour is extremely modest by comparison, and that my emphasis on preparation may be disproportionate to the challenge. Maybe even that I am not playing a fair game, stacking the odds in my favour.

After all Harold is a man who is many many years my senior and his walk is much much farther than mine. He is spectacularly ill-prepared for a long walk, or even a short one to be honest. He doesn't exercise and didn't even plan for his walk until after he'd started. He's also staggeringly ill-equipped. His main items of kit appear to be a pair of leisure shoes, a shirt, a tie and a debit card. Then part way through his journey he moves to strip this down further by returning the latter to his wife, thereafter living off the land, sleeping rough, and relying on the kindness of strangers.

But he's not real. Unlike that other long distance walking hero of mine, Sir Ranulph Fiennes, who also happens to be an old age pensioner. On the same day I depart St Bees, Sir Ranulph will be starting his own improbable winter journey across Antarctica. I still feel inferior but at least in this case it is to the greatest living British explorer. I am also confident that his planning and physical preparation will have been thorough. So I am in good company. And he is real.

[photo: Timanfaya, Lanzarote 2013]

We have just returned from a short family break in Lanzarote. We try to spend a few days in the sun at about this time most years. It works well in recharging flagging spirits towards the end of the long winter and seems to serve as a launch-pad into spring. This year our eldest grandson McKenzie wanted to see the volcano and the camels in Lanzarote, so our choice of destination was easy. We did indeed see the volcano and the camels, and otherwise had a thoroughly chilled time lazing around the pool.

I'd always pencilled this in as an "easy week" in my Coast to Coast preparations. A chance to rest and spend some proper time with my family. I didn't pack my walking boots, although my running gear did make it in. My idea was to go out for the odd run (in my case, jog) to explore the area and so aid sightseeing. Because I would be providing a service to the others this wouldn't count as Coast to Coast training.

As it happens I didn't run, or jog, or even walk very much. It was a week of almost complete inactivity. The trouble started late last Friday. It was a good day, and I was feeling good, to the point where I did my daily walk before dawn in order to free up time in the evening. Friday evening is always a good time at home. Reece and McKenzie usually come for dinner, and we reflect on the week and share plans for the weekend ahead. This Friday was better still as we discussed final plans for our flight out on Sunday.

Our conversation included the timing of my long Saturday walk, and how this would work around our other plans for the day. I went to bed fully anticipating an early start to my walk, although something didn't quite feel right. Sure enough I woke up on Saturday feeling somewhat unwell. Wiped out really, rather than any specific symptoms. I could have walked but took the view that the benefit of one last walk before holiday wasn't worth the risk of making my condition worse.

Of course my condition worsened anyway, steadily through Saturday and then sharply overnight. I spent much of the night awake shivering and sweating and aching, and worrying that I wouldn't make the flight. I had man-flu. This was serious.

I did make the flight and my condition improved through the week, although never to the point where I'd regained my energy or my impatience to exercise. I did get to finish The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry though. Hence my sense of inferiority.

[photo: Warm weather training, Lanzarote 2013]

So where does this leave me? I have a further couple of weeks of daily walking with weekend long-walks planned, according to the pattern I successfully followed prior to the Lanzarote trip. I don't plan to push any harder than I have already, there isn't time now to build up. This means I won't quite have achieved what I wanted to when I set out on my training programme at Christmas. I won't be as well prepared physically as I wanted to be, although it has certainly not been a disaster. I found out some really useful things about my equipment, my body and my mind that I will certainly put to use in a few weeks. I was also pleased with the way I easily adapted too every-day exercise. That was originally my biggest concern and whilst I'd still say it is a risk I feel better about it now.

Anyway, compared to Harold my training has been thorough and comprehensive, although surely Sir Ranulph would regard me as some sort of wimp. One thing the two of them would agree on though is the importance of a sense of purpose and an absolute determination to succeed. That makes three of us.

As my training tapers most of my focus for the next few weeks will the finer details of my plan. Instructions for joining and leaving for visiting walkers, sharing details with my team, final contacts with accommodation providers, final deposit payments, shopping for supplies, and packing. We're into the final phase of preparation. It's exiting, and despite not yet being fully fit my belief is as strong as it has ever been.

[photo: shark attack, Lanzarote 2013]

I don't often read fiction and wouldn't pretend to be an informed reviewer. For what it's worth I think The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry is a cracking book, and I'd thoroughly recommend it. Indeed Carol is currently reading it and is eagerly devouring the pages, and she is a proper reader of novels. That's probably a better recommendation than mine.

Unsurprisingly it is a book about a long walk, although the physical journey from one end of the country to the other is only really the backdrop for the story. Without really intending to Harold sets out on a mission to save a life, or at least to try and extend it. He spends three months on the road during which he meets a variety of people, and given that he is a shy man this in itself is significant. All of the characters are interesting in some way, and most of them are kind to him. Emerging from himself Harold learns to embrace their differences. Closer to home the key relationships in Harold's life are also explored: With his son, with his friend Queenie, and most satisfyingly with his wife.

Most of all it is a book that describes a man on a journey, rediscovering and reconstructing himself by stripping back the layers built up over many years. By the end of his journey he has pared it all down to what is really important, and the book ends on an optimistic note.

For me it is a book full of tragedy, humour, warmth and many splendid characters and observations. I also found it inspirational. I expected it to remind me of the value of the mission in overcoming a great challenge. It did, as Harold pushed himself to and beyond the edge over and over again. There were phases of strength and weakness, of absolute certainty of success and of total dejection and certainty if failure. At each low point though he somehow found the strength to take one more step, driven by the mission.

More surprisingly it has made me think about myself and my attitudes. After reading the book I will try to be better. I will try to be more patient. I tell others that it is the journey that is important, not the goal. Maybe I should live that a little more. I will try to remember that everyone has a story and I will try to be more understanding of, and more interested in others.

[photo: me & Harold Fry, Lanzarote 2013]

15 February: Momentum

Things are coming together.

Walking Dave has decided to extend his stint on the walk by adding one day to either end. He will now be joining me at the half-way point along with Rob, and will also do the long stage to Blakey Ridge on my birthday. And then there were three.

We also met with Sherpa Dave, Ali and Mum last week, and over a Chinese takeaway and some interesting beer filled in the details for the start of the expedition. Carol will take me over to Mum's on the evening before where I'll stay overnight, and Dave and Ali will collect us early on Day 1. After the long drive up to St Bees we'll have a late breakfast. I'll dip my foot in the sea, collect three pebbles, one to keep and two to throw into the sea at Robin Hood's bay. That's one for me and one for my grandson. We'll then begin the journey east. It's starting to feel very real.

They all plan to begin the walk with me, then Sherpa Dave and Mum will turn back to the car and drive over to Ennerdale Bridge. Ali will walk with me for the first day. I'd like to say that my plan to convince her worked but I think she was pretty keen to do a whole stage with me anyway. Great news.

Our planning extended into Days 2 and 3. Chinese takeaway, beer and planning: A cracking combination. They'll walk with me as far as Ennerdale Water and then we'll meet again at Honister Pass, if we get our timing right. I'll then have some company for the final section into Borrowdale. I expect to be pretty tired by then so this will be especially welcome. I wonder if I'll be disqualified if I get a piggy-back?

The following morning Sherpa Dave will accompany the newly arrived Simon over to Grasmere to drop his car off along with the overnight bags for those of us walking Day 3, and in doing so achieve the first baggage transfer of my Coast to Coast. For anyone not carrying all their kit with them this is a key consideration. How to get your kit bag moved along the route with you. Fortunately there are quite a few baggage services available on Coast to Coast. They charge a modest fee per bag per stage and by all accounts are generally very efficient. My experience is that many of them only operate when there are enough walkers to make the service viable, which means they may not be available if you go outside the core Easter to October season.

I'm using Suzi at Keswick Cabs. She's tailored a service for me that allows for different numbers of bags for each stage and transfers of people back to their cars. She's also happy to provide the service earlier in the year than most and is happy to support me for the middle part of the journey only. I'll have plenty of mobile support towards the end.

We didn't talk about contingency plans in the event of bad weather. I guess Sherpa Dave, Ali and Mum will decide at the time whether to walk or ride, although there was some discussion about what waterproof gear to pack and a mood of "walk on regardless" in the room. I know what I'll be doing.

A friend of ours (who is a regular reader of this blog - hello Juliet) called Carol last week after seeing reports of winter storms in the USA, genuinely concerned about what I'd do if it snowed. I think Carol told her that I'd have to put a hat on!

Some more welcome news. Jo, a long time friend, will accompany me on the Grasmere to Patterdale stage. This is perfect timing as she'll get to see Carol, who will be returning to the midlands later that day. Jo and I worked together for some years early in her career (not quite so early in mine!). I watched her grow from a shy teenager just starting out in the world of work into a confident accomplished professional. We were kindred spirits at work and formed a friendship that has passed the test of time, even though it's more than a dozen years since we worked together and we don't often see each other these days. Back then she helped me through one of the toughest times in my life and I will always be grateful for this.

Jo will be bringing her dogs. Maybe I can get her to tell me how she really feels when she's out walking them on a cold dark wet December morning when the only people around are other dog owners, bin-men on a mission, and mad walkers?

So, a good week for planning and arranging. I am a bit disappointed with my training though. It's by no means been a disaster but I don't feel I've really built on the promising first few weeks of the year. To be clear, I haven't backed off on the training, I just haven't pushed on. I've allowed other things to get in the way of extending my long weekend walk, and I've taken the odd weekday off when I didn't really need to. It's been cold and damp and I've felt a little jaded. Poor excuses, but good enough.

Maybe I could do with a spell of warm weather training? After all if it's good for Team GB why not me, and probably just the right preparation for an early spring march across northern England.

I've been using disassociation again during some of my evening walks. It is a real technique, look it up. Again I've found myself turning to memorable mountain experiences, usually in warm dry weather!

I recall Walking Dave's wild camping debut was one of those. We base-camped for the first time, by Codale Tarn. It was midsummer and unusually hot for the Lake District. Hardly a breath of wind for the duration of our expedition and never a threat of rain.

After setting up camp at the far end of the tarn well away from the man routes, Rob and I walked up to Tarn Crag overlooking Easedale Tarn and Helm Crag, a magnificent outlook in the fading summer evening light.

Dusk is a special time in the hills. Everyone else has left, retired to B&Bs or hotels in the town and probably by now preparing to go out for dinner. Like they were visitors to your home, they are now gone and you can kick back and relax, be yourself. Somehow you feel like you belong more than them. As the night comes in you realise that you are committed. You planned to stay anyway, and the feeling of isolation is welcome rather than unsettling.

After breakfast the three of us set out for a long day higher up. Up over Blea Rigg, down to Stickle Tarn and a sharp ascent to Pavey Ark. Then a full round of the Langdales, Thunacar Knott, High Raise and Sergeant Man. We paused at this final peak surveying our whole day's effort behind and our camp far below, reflecting on a glorious mountain day. Hot, sweaty, exhausted, and exhilarated. The fastest lightest mountain day I could recall. We had barely paused for the customary summit photos, energised by each short-sharp push to the top and down and up the next.

We opted for the Richardson Retreat back to camp, so named following a rushed winter descent off Skiddaw when Ash decided it was going to get dark and we needed to get off the mountain quickly. The method is quite simple: You take a bee-line between where you are and where you want to get to, and follow it no matter what, irrespective of hazard or obstruction. This time it worked well. Aided by frequent use of the bum slide our return to base-camp was short and quick.

We spent the evening crashed out by the tarn. First priority for the stove was reviving tea. Somehow it tastes better in the hills. The pot-noodle meals featured in previous wild camps had been replaced at Dave's prompting by sachet meals containing real food. Still store bought at at this point but real food nonetheless. We started with cup-a-soup and bread, and after the main course squeezy-cheese and crackers. Any wild camper will tell you that squeezy-cheese is an essential rucksack item. Tasty and practically indestructible.

Then chocolate, coffee, and Jaegermeister. A splendid meal enjoyed at our own chilled pace on a balmy summer evening, in a truly beautiful lonely setting. We spent the evening watching the stars and moon, comparing notes from our epic mountain day, and polishing off the rest of the Jaegermeister. It doesn't get much better than this.

I've started reading Harold Fry. He's only just into his second day but already it's an engaging read. I can see how it inspired Alan so, even after a few short pages. When Walking Dave first told me of Alan's plan I think he was concerned that he would be underprepared, and hoped that I might influence him otherwise. After spending a little time talking to Alan about his plan and then reading the first couple of chapters of Harold Fry I would say that by comparison Alan is very well prepared indeed.

 

9 February: Hot Summer Nights

Today's walk was a cracker. Nine miles in comfortably less than three hours, despite damp and sludgy conditions. Felt good throughout and despite the fast pace had energy to spare at the end. I also had a new walking companion: Walking Dave's Dad, Alan. Having been inspired by The Unlikely Pligrimage of Harold Fry, Alan has decided to walk the 170 miles or so to Devon in time for his daughter's birthday, the timing of which puts his schedule more or less in-line with mine. Fair play.

 

Dave suggested we compare notes and maybe do one or two walks together. We did our first one on Thursday evening, although I spent much of the time on a conference call with work so we didn't get to compare many notes. Alan was very gracious though, explaining that he needed to get used to walking alone!

I'm pleased to report that we did better today. Alan has a plan that hangs together. He's going to take a lightweight approach to avoid the need for every-day baggage transfers, more Raid on Entebbe to my Siege of Leningrad. After comparing notes as planned we set about putting the world to rights, and despite coming from quite different ends of the political colour spectrum I feel we put together a pretty decent manifesto.
 

 

Kenilworth Castle, 2013

 

I have to admit that the damp greyness of the season and the day-in-day-out tramping of the streets and fields around Kenilworth is starting to wear a little. I long for some spring brightness and a more inspiring setting. In some of my solo outings just lately I have allowed my mind to wander.

One of the summer mountain memories that often comes to me is from a couple of years ago at the start of a wild camp with Rob. We'd driven up to the Lakes, enjoyed the ceremonial last good meal in a cafe in Ambleside and parked the car at the foot of the Wrynose Pass. It was a warm sultry day, with low cloud cover and a slightly odd light, brighter than expected on such a dull day. The walk up to Great Moss was uneventful and we set up camp on a raised platform near Sampson's Stones. We prepared and ate supper then lazed in the warm late evening discussing our plan to tackle Scafell the next day.

Then all of a sudden the cloud cover begin to break. Over the next hour we were treated to a spectacular light show accompanied by funnels of cloud swirling in the hills beheath our camp. Rob captured the show with some wonderful photographs whilst I scribbled in my journal.

 

Thursday 9.50pm. Still a little light out. The clag around us has cleared, and collected in the plain below. We can see clearly up to Esk Hause and the Scafells, and beneath our feet a sea of soupy cloud.

Quite an eerie display now the light is going. The way cloud clings to rock faces in long bands, or small break-away clusters, or swirls around the valley looking for something to hold onto.

Left is clear. Right is fog. Now the basin of Great Moss is almost completely filled up with mist. Can barley see the river through the murk.

The fog now looks to be forming into a neat queue as it moves down the valley. The feed of fog from Esk Hause has stopped. Maybe it will clear altogether when this train has passed through?

 

A bank of cloud is heading straight at us from our left, like a wave rolling in, just at our eye level.

5 February: Day of Rest

It’s surprising how quickly human beings can get into a routine, how few repetitions it takes to form a habit. I suspect I’m not alone when after returning home after a great holiday the routine created in just a few days of living somewhere different lingers in the mind for some time, perhaps not in the same way as the great experiences, but in a way representing the “feel” of the holiday. Such is the effect of doing something several times in a routine way.

I’ve stuck pretty well to my post-Christmas exercise regime for five weeks now. At the start walking most days seemed to eat up such a lot of time out of my week and fitting it into my schedule was a challenge. As I walked time moved slowly at first, especially during the evening walks where there was little to stimulate me in my surroundings. A couple of times to start with I was aware of the gradual onset of fatigue caused by day in day out exercise and the weekend long walks.

Now, after only five repetitions of my weekly schedule it feels like a quite natural part of my life. It is an integral part of my routine and I have become comfortable physically and mentally with walking regularly to the point where I look forward to my walk, and if I occasionally miss one I do miss it. I can’t claim that the training element has elevated my fitness to a new level, and have certainly not pushed my effort levels to anywhere near what will be needed on Coast to Coast, but I do feel a definite benefit and somehow better prepared.

Almost every week, with just the odd variation, I exercise six times. Four walks, one run and a visit to the gym. Tuesday is rest day. Our eldest grandson stays with us on a Tuesday night, so it makes sense to take a break from Coast to Coast on this day and focus a little on normal family life. I think I have become a little obsessed by my mission these last few weeks so a forced break once a week is a good thing. I try to switch off from Coast to Coast altogether on this day, but usually fail. At least I don’t spend time at it.

Today is my day of rest. Tonight, instead of Coast to Coast I am preparing to start an Open University course!

A couple of years ago Carol successfully completed an Open University Degree associated with her work. Over the four years of hard study I became her “glamorous assistant”, helping with her study diary, proof reading, document formatting, making sure assignments were submitted on-time, and being a general sounding board for ideas and frustrations. Not only did I develop a deeper admiration for my wife during that time, I also enjoyed the process, and while she won’t admit it I think she did too.

There were several modules in each academic year, each one lasting maybe eight or ten weeks. During that time the students were expected to do some research into a particular aspect of the subject and then submit an essay response to a set question. I thought the format was excellent, the way education at this level should be, allowing the students not only to demonstrate their knowledge of their subject but also to express themselves in a reasonably unrestricted way.

The graduation ceremony was at the Barbican Centre in London. It was a tremendously proud and emotional day for me, and I’m sure for Carol too even though I had to push her to attend. I was affected by the day, in a good way. I revelled in being in an academic environment again after so many years away. Coming from a world where end result is all into one that recognises knowledge and ideas for their own sake, one that acclaims individual achievement for what it is and the potential it offers, was truly refreshing.

I even appreciated the presentation ceremony itself, all of it. Anyone who has attended one of these ceremonies will understand that this is unusual. The format is typically some sort of opening address at the start and closing speeches at the end, and sandwiched between is a procession of all the graduands being called forward one at a time to shake hands with the dignitary and collect their scroll. This takes a long time, and it can seem a very long time indeed, all to witness your loved ones’ few seconds on the stage. Moreover there is a well-ordered sequence to it all. This predictability means that there are no surprises. There is no need to keep a close eye on proceedings just in case your loved one is called up next. You can work out from the sequence of qualifications and length of time it takes to get through each letter of the alphabet as the surnames are read out pretty much exactly when your moment to pay attention will come. So when after twenty minutes they are still on “BA in Biology awarded to Julie Brookes” you know you had better make yourself comfortable.

I didn’t even especially enjoy my own graduation ceremony, although the whole-day experience was admittedly memorable. It didn’t help that I had a hangover (I was still trying to live like a student despite having been in work for four months and well and truly burning the candle at both ends), and having a surname that begins with P is not ideal. It means you’re over half way down the queue, and when you’ve received your award it’s not all over by any means.

I stood with tears in my eyes, hairs standing on the back of my neck, applauding proudly as my brilliant wife was called to collect her award. But I also watched with genuine interest as each of the others stepped forward in turn, each one having been on a journey and with a story to tell. This was not normal.

Carol & Ian at The Barbican, 2011

I was inspired. I wanted this for myself. I felt I was ready to study again. Within days I had enlisted on the opening modules of a Masters course in the management of agile software development. This is an interesting subject, really, and it also supported my work nicely. It was a three year course, with the first two being “taught” and the third a free-format research dissertation. I was already anticipating being exposed to new insights into my profession and to expressing my thoughts with like minded colleagues. I even visualised myself being called forward up those steps at the Barbican.

I selected Project Management and Requirements Gathering as my first modules. Familiar subjects to ease myself back into academia and potentially opportunities to dazzle early in the piece. I eagerly opened the pack of course materials when it arrived in the post in keen anticipation of my new intellectual challenge.

Within an hour the bubble had burst. Instead of the free-wheeling challenge to my talent and imagination I was expecting these courses were going to test my ability to draw a data flow diagram and put together a Gantt chart. For anyone not in the industry they are just as dry as they sound, and provide very limited opportunity for self expression. Flicking forward through the material to the module assessments I saw a series of closed questions designed only to check that the material had been thoroughly learned. Both modules were the same. The dream was over.

I kept at it for a couple of weeks attempting to convince myself that once I got into it I would feel differently. I didn’t of course. During these two weeks I took a closer look at the modules to come and asked some questions of the tutors in the hope that the modules I had chosen weren’t representative. There were of course. Disappointed and disillusioned I quit, something I almost never do.

The Open University were very fair and supportive, and whilst they couldn’t refund my fees they did give me a substantial credit, to be used within 18 months. That was 15 months ago. Alarmed that I was effectively about to lose a pretty fair chunk of money I stirred into action. I have to use the refund on courses starting before the end of May, so I have enrolled on four, all running at more or less the same time. Proof if any were needed that I am not the hyper-organised uber-planner I am reputed to be.

The first to start is Listening to Music. True, it’s hardly Masters material but you didn’t see the choice of courses starting between now and May. Anyway, I might be surprised.

Then there is Nutrition and Weather Forecasting (two separate courses!). I figured these would be useful additions to my hill walking kit bag, although I’ve since been reminded by a former close friend that they are likely to make me and even bigger know-it-all.

The final course is Digital Photography. This is the one I am most looking forward to and I would have happily enrolled on a longer more demanding course at the expense of the others. I regard myself as a decent photographer with a decent eye and have been complimented on my framing. I am completely untrained though and I expect this course to really move my photography on.

I think I may need to take my school books on Coast to Coast.

Finally, answers to the quiz from 2^nd February.

Walking Dave & Rob crossing Striding Edge, 2012 

The mountain hero in question 1 is Walking Dave. The clue is in the question. Sticking with the people related questions, I am the well dressed walker in question 3 and Rob is the man in shorts in question 5. The bonus point answer is my son Reece. This shot was taken near the summit of Ben Hope, which is the answer to question 2.

That photo was taken at breakfast-time on the day of our ascent of Ben Hope, and is taken across a mill-pond like Kyle of Tongue on the north coast of Scotland. As can be seen from the picture this was a perfect early spring day, and ended with me achieving a long-time ambition to climb this isolated mountain. The final push to the summit was through a pristine snow-field, and the views from the top on such a crystal clear day were spectacular. Despite the snow it was so still and warm that we sunbathed next to the trig-point for over an hour.

Reece & Rob sunbathing at the summit of Ben Hope, 2010

The Lake District edge in question 4 is Striding Edge of course.

How many did you get right? Anyone with six out of five?

2 February: Kit

Things are looking up.

Back is feeling much better.

Cornish pasty for lunch yesterday.

New dishwasher arrives Monday.

 

I was asked to pose for photographs during a crossing of Striding Edge last spring. I must admit I was cutting a pretty fine figure as I negotiated the rocks and pinnacles. It was my third crossing in all and most confident yet, if I do say so myself. In contrast this was Walking Dave's debut. After scrambling to the top of the first turret like a true mountain hero he realised just how exposed a position he had climbed to, with steep drops either side. He became crag-fast, clinging to the rock for dear life with arms and legs wrapped around like a monkey on a branch. It was during this stationary moment that the photographer sidled up to him and asked him to signal me to stop for the photo-shoot.

 

Sadly he wasn't interested in my moves. It was my kit that had attracted his attention. It seems he was working on behalf of a walking equipment magazine or similar. I guess he was keen to take advantage of a rare opportunity to get a shot of all the latest gear on one person at the same time outside a photographic studio. It is true that I'm a sucker for gear. An outdoor retailers' dream customer. They start rubbing their hands when they see me coming down the road.

 

So this chapter is about hill walking gear. Here I'll describe what works for me based on my own research and experience. Whilst it may be fascinating reading for some (?), it is a bit hardcore and therefore could be a bit dry for others. In an attempt to maintain the interest of this group I've interspersed a picture quiz between the kit reviews. Eyes down for the first question.

 

Quiz Question 1: Who is this mountain hero?

 

I used to believe that the only proper walking boots were made of leather, and I own a fine pair of Alt-Berg Mallerstangs. They are indeed excellent boots. Absolutely bomb-proof and stiff enough to take a crampon. I think if I did more serious winter walking then I would wear them regularly. The thing is, even after what seems like several hundred miles of use they still don't really feel worn in. At the end of a long day I find I get pretty foot-sore in them.

 

Then, on the recommendation of Walking Dave I tried a pair of Saloman Quests (4D GTX to be precise). They were a revelation. Light, instantly comfortable, a good snug fit, and supportive. Now I can walk as far and long as I like without getting footsore. Indeed it is usually something else that feels the strain before my feet. They're also plenty tough enough for what I need them to do.

 

Bitten by the Saloman bug I've since bought a pair of X Ultra trail shoes. I went for the mid height ones with waterproofing, although both are options. They are similarly comfortable and I think work better on hard surfaces. Again I can wear them for miles and miles without strain. I will use them on Coast to Coast for the sections where there is more road or hard surface walking.

 

To go with my Saloman's I wear Falke socks. The ones that tell you which foot to put in which sock. Such is the comfort of my boots I wear a single pair of thin socks, but this is very much a matter of personal taste.

 

Quiz Question 2: Name this most northerly Munro.

 

Now another recommendation. Sprayway All-Day Rainpants. Fit and feel like ordinary walking trousers, but waterproof. It's true. Not heavy or sweaty, but waterproof. Not noisey or shiny, but waterproof. My oldest pair is a couple of years old now and starting to show signs of wear, mainly on the backside. I consider the bum-slide to be a legitimate way of getting down off a mountain.

 

And another. Sealskinz Ultra-Grip Waterproof Gloves. Woolly gloves, but waterproof. Close fitting, breathable, grippy, but waterproof. Enough said. Probably not warm enough for seriously cold conditions but otherwise tip-top.

 

One of the few items where I tend to go non-technical is my hat. I bought my favourite one at a festival a few years ago. It's the sort worn by hippies and yak farmers, with a tassel on top.

 

Quiz Question 3: Who is this well-dressed walker?

 

Above the waist I find that wearing a number of thin layers works better than one or two thick tops, and I use the ones made of the technical materials. This isn't just because the salesman told me to. First of all they don't get sweaty. They're also really light and pack down really small, so I can keep as many layers as I like in my rucksack. I usually start with a short sleeved t-shirt, then a long sleeved zipped top, and then a lightweight soft-shell. That's usually plenty, and of course I carry a waterproof making a forth layer if needed. If it's very cold I might double up on the long sleeved t or soft-shell.

 

Possibly the most controversial item of kit I use is walking poles, or zimmer-poles as they are called by my walking buddies. I've developed a thick skin, and they definitely help me both on the way up and on the way down, so I'm not going to bow to peer pressure. The pair I have are pretty cool. Made by Black Diamond. They're very light, but not carbon, and allow a little bit of adjustment. They have a very neat system for folding and unfolding, and pack down really small. Above all they are secured using a click-lock. I've had several pairs of the screw type, including some quality ones by Leki, and they've always either failed or locked up sooner or later. I guess it's inevitable that mud and water will get into the thread.

 

Quiz Question 4: Name this famous Lake District edge.

 

No kit list is complete without a bit of technology. My two principle gadgets are a camera and a GPS. My camera is a Canon EOS 500D SLR, or in fact the US equivalent. I use a Sigma 18-200 zoom lens which gives me great flexibility, so I only need to carry the one lens. The combination is a bit heavy and bulky but it's worth it for the picture quality and responsiveness I get. I carry the camera in a harness strapped to my front - I must be quite a sight! I'm currently using an Ortlieb case. Suitably expensive, and waterproof to about 3 miles, but not as easy to use as my old Lowepro Toploader Zoom. That one leaks like a sieve though, even though I have the AW (all weather) version. This means it has a rain cover over the front, sides, top and bottom, but nothing at the back. This basically means the rain runs down your waterproof jacket and straight into the back of your camera.  Genius. I wonder what they mean by "all weather"?

 

Finally to the GPS. I use a Satmap Active 10. It's a massively useful piece of kit, probably the best available for hill walking in the UK, but it's not perfect. By the way I wouldn't bother with the Plus version. The last time I looked the PC mapping software you get in the bundle was junk. I have 1:25,000 OS maps for the Lake District because that's where I walk most, and also 1:50,000 for the whole of the UK. It's rugged and easy to use and you can operate it with gloves on. It does eat up batteries though. I can get one or maybe two long days out of lithiums. Ordinary Duracells are not up to the job and it works through rechargeables in no time.

 

I've also managed to get mine waterlogged, twice. On both occasions it was insanely wet but I would have expected a purpose built walking GPS to have coped. The people at Satmap were very good though and restored it to full working order both times. I now have a waterproof case for it so should be OK next time around, provided I remember to pack the case.

 

Quiz Question 5: Who is this under-dressed mountaineer?

(the one on the right - name both for a bonus point)

 

Finished my walk in darkness today. Left it until mid afternoon before setting out and was able to enjoy the last couple of hours of sunshine and sunset during the walk. It's been a lovely day actually, bright and just a bit chilly. And after a fairly dry week the soft squelchy mud I described last week has become seriously sticky and a real barrier to progress. Consequently the walk today was a bit attritional. Effort was high but progress slow. I'm getting ever more ambitious with my off-road routes around Kenilworth. Hardly saw a soul today. Maybe everyone had done their exercise and gone home before I ventured out.