Guest Post Andrew Mazibrada:

Andrew Mazibrada writes the excellent Journeyman traveller.  It is a pleasure to have him write a guest blog here.  My thanks to him.  The post is thought provoking,  and contains  excellent links.  

Pushing the Envelope

Walking’s easy. We do it every day. One foot in front of the other, repeat ad infinitum, and head towards the horizon. There’s not much to it. Even a gentle, sunday afternoon stroll along a bridleway in the countryside does not require much in the way of forethought or preparation - heaven forbid a compass and map. A longer jaunt might engender such things as day packs and waterproofs but essentially, home-made sandwiches and Ribena top the list for day-trippers into the hazardous terrain of the South Downs. Boots are by Meindl and have thick leather uppers. Socks are by Bridgedale in thick swathes of wool which usually suit winter, not summer. Fleece and waterproof (zip-in naturally) are by Peter Storm or Regatta. All in all, this is not taxing stuff.

Hiking, hillwalking, trekking, bushwacking, tramping, wild camping - call it what you will but whether peak-bagging or river-fording it all takes the great game to a new level. Suddenly, simple walking becomes something more onerous and thought-provoking. The whole concept segues into a new playground. These arenas require a ‘skillset’ - a compendium of individual proficiencies each essential, interlinked and symbiotic. I accept, of course, anyone can bag Scafell Pike and Snowdon - I’ve seen the hordes garbed in DC and Vans trainers, Diesel jeans and a Radio 1 Live Lounge t-shirt - haute chic in the truest sense. Yet these are fair weather day-trippers. Up and down while the going is good to firm and the sun smiles. There’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing, they say. Perhaps. I’d say there’s no such thing as danger, only unskilled and unprepared. Not as pithy, I grant you, but probably more truthful.

Or is it a Controversial Statement? Perhaps. It raises a point though - when walking becomes hiking, whether the lightweight, ultralight or overweight version, it demands a skillset. Navigation sits firmly and without genuine competition on the top spot, whether it be with futuristic technical aids or not. Yet there are other skills required. This is not a discussion about  what kit is appropriate - I proved to myself on top of the Nantlle Ridge, wearing La Sportiva Raptors, that trail runners are just as effective as boots on wet rock, but for different reasons largely linked to dexterity and ease of movement. I might well have been criticised by the tutting, head-shaking masses for ‘inappropriate footwear’ but in the end, I made a choice based on my knowledge of my own skills and the conditions ahead.

I have enough experience to do that. I have a skillset - an embryonic one in some areas, more mature in others. If you have the skills to be out in the hills, overnight and in bad weather, the most likely scenario is that you already have the savoir faire to make the right kit choices. So this post is not about kit. It’s about two things - pushing yourself and preparing for that push.

Hillwalking is something I could do forever. I doubt I’d ever grow bored of that moment, perched atop a hill, the canvass of the world laid out in front of me, the arresting, prepossessing masterpiece that is our planet, resplendent and glorious. Yet, challenges drive us as human beings. Overcoming adversity or obstacles and reaching goals provokes a rush of pure joy that few other aspects of life can match. Pushing your boundaries into new areas is an examination of self which kindles unadulterated pleasure. Yet, it also comes with a requirement of proficiency. I wrote some time ago about spending more time in the Alps and starting to undertake ‘mountaineering’. Hillwalking in the summer is one thing, walk that same hill in the winter and the whole scenario changes. Naismith becomes a haggard, cadaverous geriatric limping along at 1km/h in snow and ice instead of his sprightly summer 4km/h. There is something innately magical about winter but it’s not something for those without an enhanced skillset.

I’d suggest there are two ways to secure that essential proficiency - one better than the other. The first, and I suspect the one most have opted for, is to simply get out there and see what happens. Yes, yes - of course I don’t advocate that but how many of us have actually done that? Do I have a show of hands? No, thought not. Because it’s ever so slightly reckless to wander into the great unknown, unprepared. The Special Air Service have a saying and forgive the vulgarity - “Proper Planning and Preparation Prevents Piss Poor Performance”. Planning, yes but how do you think the British SAS get so good? They train every day. 

How many of you have actually gone on some sort of course? Even fewer hands. There’s a stigma there, it seems to me. As if having someone ‘teach’ you how to put one foot in front of the other is inherently crazy. I went on a 5-day Winter Mountaineering course and I know others who have done similar courses. Hendrik Morkel took a Wilderness Guide Course that took months. The crux of that is the skillset you learn is the best one, and the right skills become entrenched over time. So I think pushing the envelope is A GOOD THING but requires some direction and discipline.

There are so many good courses out there offered by people with a genuine desire to pass them on - here are some companies that I have heard good things about or with whom I have corresponded in the past - there are others of course but these will provide almost everything you need in a course:

Plas-y-Brenin  - perhaps the most well known and widely respected Mountain Training in the UK

Mountain Sense  - run by serious individuals, with a great index of courses by regular contributors to Trail

Talisman Mountaineering - I did my 5 day Advanced Mountaineering Course with Ron and Fiona and it was excellent

Glenmore Lodge - the National Outdoor Training Centre in Scotland and highly rated by David Lintern of Self Powered - enough said

There are books and DVDs too - several of them in fact - that will teach you on your own time. What better way to ignore the person sitting next you on the Underground than to learn how to navigate properly?

Hawkins, ‘Map and Compass: The Art of Navigation’, Cicerone 2003

Long, ‘Hillwalking: The Official Handbook of the Mountain Leader and Walking Group Leader Schemes’, UKMTB 2003

Cliff, ‘Mountain Navigation’, Menasha Ridge Press Inc 1991

Tippett, ‘Navigation for Walkers’, Cordee 2009

The BMC do a plethora of DVDs which are excellent and easily accessible. Visual stimuli rather than the written word is a more natural human learning tool.

Or perhaps learn about Weather? Few skills are as arcane and mystical as the prediction of what our schizophrenic climate will do next but equally few are as essential.

Pedgley, ‘Mountain Weather’ Cicerone 2006

Chorley, ‘Atmosphere, Weather and Climate’, (9th Edition), Routledge 2009

Learning new skills, or being taught them, are not the only time-consuming foundation for breaking through your borders - the other is fitness. There was a time when I was somewhat stockier of frame than I am now. I am fond of eulogising about the vagaries of Life but dropping that excess weight took time, let me tell you. And effort. Which leads me onto my next point. Taking in hills, or great distances, is far easier if you are fit. Ultralight is one thing, reasonably fit is almost as good. We drop weight from our packs to give us flexibility and allow us to cover greater distances more easily. 

Drop weight from ourselves and we do so even more effectively. In order to prepare for the Classic Haute Route, I hit the gym 2-3 times a week - 15km on the bike, 1km rowing and 5km on the cross-trainer. I made time, even where it did not appear to exist. Every moment adds up. Sure, nothing beats hill-time. The energy-sapping slip of a foot on a muddy hillside; the sheer force of will required to pull 80kg up a wet, rocky scramble. Muscles that lay comfortably dormant burn from underuse the moment you set foot on a hill and demand enterprise from them. These are real world gym machines that test your body, but your very own precision instrument will thank you for fine-tuning now and then before you demand excellence from it.

Pushing yourself almost inevitably leads to pushing others. Phil Turner, for whom I have great respect, wrote a very insightful post on the satisfaction of leading others, especially those who have not, for whatever reason, had much opportunity to enjoy the outdoors. Perhaps it leads to a charitable curtain for your endeavours. Whatever the reason, sometimes it cleans your soul if there is more to it than a beautiful sunset. We share our experiences on blogs as much to assist others as to crystallise our memories. 

Man is a social animal, said Aristotle - we share because we desire community. Not all of us have the same skills and experience - it’s what makes a team so effective. No all of us have the same opinions - how boring would life be if we did? Respect for each other and respect for the wilderness we love - both are equally important. Pushing yourself, pushing others, learning about yourself and the world you live in - it’s all part of the great mystery - who we are, individually and collectively. There is no better way to solve that mystery than to challenge perceptions.

I said this post was not about kit - so what is it about? It’s about change. It’s about movement. It’s about realising that when we remain stagnant, we fail to understand the beauty of what’s around us. And, right now, so many of us need to be reminded that there is beauty - you just need to look for it.