You can google what to bring on a hike very easily, and much of the advice is sensible. Yes to a paper map, yes to snacks, yes to waterproofs and layers…
But they skip about the single most important thing to bring, or not, entirely. And that’s your company.
Ulva
You are about to be outdoors. For most of the day. With no screens. With whoever you are bringing with you.
I’m struggling not to make the next bit sound like some awful corporate self help guide but basically – you need to make sure you have the same goals for that walk. Argh. Align your hiking goals. Bleurgh. The language, it burns…
But if you are hiking in company, they will make or break your day.
For example, when I was a wee sprite of a teenager, I hiked with Dad. And Dad was entirely open to the idea that a hike involved getting over excited about a bird, or some interesting lichen, and certainly stopping for “a blether” and some chocolate. I grew up with slow paced, deeply connected with nature, and occasionally even discussing poetry.
Hiking with boyfriends came as a shock, then. Because the particular university boyfriend I hiked with was six foot three and much more goal orientated. Bag that peak. Get to that ridge. We should manage three Munros by dusk. On hills he complained slowing to my pace hurt his knees, and he’d stride off. It wasn’t as bad as some, he would wait, tutting. And then stride off as soon as I caught up and before I had my breath back.
I quickly announced I was “not actually that outdoorsy” and stopped walking with him. He was an otherwise wonderful human, and I remember him with cheerful fondness, but we could not hike together. It’s not why we broke up, but it’s a good reason not to regret it.
Husband, on the other hand, is fitter than me, but very open to frequent snack breaks. He isn’t quite as into birds as I am, but likes me enough to point out any particularly interesting dots in the sky. Unless we really are at risk of losing daylight, he’s chilled out about small diversions for lichen-bedecked trees.
Ulva - a small monument in a cottage that was allegedly the home of David Livingston’s grandparents.
If I could get him to stop talking about politics, in fact, he’d be the perfect hiking companion.
The kids are also good company, although the bigger one will insist on telling me about YouTubers whilst I’m trying to listen to the smaller one telling me she might have seen a buzzard.
So. Whatever else you bring with you – and yes, that should include the paper map – pack the right people.