It’s three and a half weeks since I walked the South Downs Way and I guess it’s time to switch my brain on and do a little analysis. I knew what this post was going to say, word for word, while I was limping through the countryside but when I got home and tried to write it down, it was gone.
I don’t think 28km in a single weekend constitutes a life-changing walk but I certainly did some philosophising. Isn’t it inevitable, when your feet hurt because you’re not as invincible as you thought and you’ve been on your own in the brown pre-spring landscape for two days?
Number one, I can’t walk 21km in a day. Well, I can but not without consequences. It’s three and a half weeks later and I still have a rather gory blister on the outside of my right foot. It’s not as bad as it was – I no longer fear apocalypse if I break it wearing proper shoes, and I can’t feel it anymore but it’s there. That’s probably a matter of shoes and socks. 14km is about my limit. I’ve tried and tested that. I can do it without getting unduly exhausted or angry or causing injury.
Longer walks aren’t good for my feet but they’re also not good for my brain. I’m tired, my feet hurt, I’m still not there and everything I tolerated or didn’t even notice earlier is now the worst thing in the world. My temper doesn’t last 21km. Walking on my own, I can rage pretty freely without anyone else seeing but it just adds to the tiredness.
On Saturday night the prospect of continuing on Sunday was miserable. Getting picked up from my pub was an option but it would mean I’d given up. Not just failed to complete my goal but failed to try. So I picked a spot fairly early on that was accessible by car for pick-up and once that was settled and I’d counted the distance on my route card and discovered it was only 6.5km, I was happy. I sat at breakfast with my map, quietly grinning and giggling. I’m going to walk just 6.5km! The feeling was helped by a lady I met outside who thought she was collecting me for a group walk, who on hearing my story said “Good for you for carrying on”. Yeah, I was carrying on. I was adjusting my plan, knowing when calling it a day is the best thing to do and when it isn’t quitting but still getting out there.
I follow a lot of outdoorsy types on social media. As a general rule, their two favourite outdoor activities are long-distance hiking and wild camping. I often feel like I should have at least tried wild camping but I like the security – and facilities – of a campsite. Not a big one, with a pool and entertainment and white plastic vans as far as the eye can see but a safe and legal one. Well, I gave the long-distance hiking a go and it’s not for me and now, in a way, I can say more comfortably that wild camping isn’t for me. To be part of the outdoorsy lot doesn’t mean I have to enjoy or do the same things as them. I can justify saying “nah, not for me” more easily than I used to. And even though I’m not a long-distance hiker, I can still work on England’s longest national trail, the South West Coast Path, doing it like I always have, in irregular day hikes. Don’t want to do everything at once and have nothing left to do by the time I’m forty. Eat an elephant, or maybe a blue whale, one bite at a time.
On the positive side, I had another reminder that I’m capable and competent. I successfully navigated a whole new area by myself. Yeah, yeah, signposts etc. Actually, it wasn’t as well signposted as I expected. I definitely needed my map. I already trusted my ability to read and follow a map after various Dartmoor hikes but just in case – new and very different region! I had the sense to sit down and soothe my feet 10km in, I had the sense to change from boots into sandals 17km in, I noticed when I was bad-tempered and applied snacks, and right at the end of Sunday, I called on my “invisible mentor” who absolutely believes in me and got me the last kilometre or two to the picnic bench at the end.
Let’s talk kit, then. I opted for my Mammut boots because I’ve done two big mountain hikes in Iceland and not had blisters. Waterproof mountain boots were perhaps overkill for the South Downs but what with the mud, I was glad I hadn’t gone for trainers. The lighter boots were an option – they’re less constricting than the mountain boots and softer but where there’s any hint of movement, there’s friction and friction is blisters. When your feet hurt, tighten the boots. I don’t regret the boot decision but I’m glad I took my sandals to give my feet a break on the last descent. I also think the foot masks/plastic socks of cooling oils were a good decision. They don’t weigh much but my feet deserved a bit of a treat on Saturday night.
The poles were another good decision, as was the GoPro. I wanted to film my journey and my little superzoom is best for that and for photos. But it rained on Sunday and rain kills superzooms so I was glad to have the GoPro waiting. I’m hoping the video will be finished and up during the weekend, by the way. Waterproofs, absolutely essential. Did I need both fleece and softshell? Maybe not but I appreciated the latter on grey Saturday and the former under my waterproofs on Sunday.
The one issue, perhaps, was the bag. It’s a Vango 45l bag I’ve had since… well, I can’t remember but I took it to Denmark in 2012 and I didn’t buy it specially for that trip. I like the size, I like the shape, I like the two big side pockets and the big lid pocket. If budget were no problem, I… still wouldn’t be able to replace it with something that replicates all those things. I’ve looked. But the fact is that the padding on the straps has thinned and moved and I had spectacular red marks on my shoulders on Saturday evening. I need something with better straps and a better, more supportive harness system. I wish I could just graft a new harness onto this bag. And I wasn’t even carrying much. Lunch and snacks for two days, waterproofs, pyjamas and a toothbrush and that was about it. I stayed in a pub, so I didn’t need camping gear, or an evening meal or breakfast. 45l is about perfect. Any bigger and I’ll fill it more and won’t be able to stagger under its weight. Any less and I can’t fit my waterproofs in. That bag has been fine on day hikes – it never occurred to me to have a problem with it in the day of the volcano hike – but for longer trips, with even a little more to carry, it’s too hard on my shoulders. It’ll take a while to replace. There’s nothing out there like it and when I do find something, I’ll need at least a week or two to get over the price. A cheap bag gave me at least eleven good years. A good bag should see out my hiking years. It’s not so expensive spread over a couple of decades.
But speaking of the price of kit: none of my stuff is the expensive “proper” stuff. Even my boots, which are the most expensive footwear I’ve ever owned, were only… well, I can’t remember. £120-£130, probably. The current generation of that boot is £180 so take off five years and the fact that I bought them in Go Outdoors and £120 is probably the top end of my estimate. That’s very not expensive for mountain boots. I have a copy of The Great Outdoors next to me, which contains a review of approach shoes. That’s what you wear for walking to the mountain, not even footwear meant for climbing the mountain, and the cheapest shoe there is £145.
Everything else is high street. My poles, base layer and trousers, both regular and waterproof, are from Decathlon. My t-shirt is Primark. My waterproof jacket is Regatta. My softshell is from Mountain Warehouse using a voucher given to me when I left my job in 2016. My fleece is from Millets. My GoPro probably cost as much as the rest of my kit put together. You don’t need the expensive stuff to get outside, you really don’t. It must be so offputting if you’re new to walking to see a magazine casually say that £60 is a good and low price for a fleece, that a raincoat should be at least £200 and boots at least £300. No. I don’t subscribe to that. But the bag… anything bigger than schoolbag-sized and it’s going to cost. Hey, Osprey. Since I’m local and ripe for conversion to the good stuff, would you gift me a 45l bag? No? Sure? Well, even you don’t have anything I like the look of so never mind.
Do I have any other thoughts, philosophical or otherwise? Oh, probably. It’s gone 11pm right now, though, and my thoughts have settled in for the night.