I’ve been thinking about those ideas that I had during the year that, for one reason or another, did not find themselves into the blog.

Before I went to the Pyrenees this summer Humphrey Weightman sent me through some of Hillaire Belloc’s writings on my favourite mountains. Belloc will be better known as the writer of nonsense verse, but he was also a prodigious hiker and explorer. There is a lot here that is really interesting and over the next few weeks I’ll share some of this with you. But I thought I’d start with some thoughts o carrying pack weight. These still hold true to this day!

I now turn to equipment. The first question asked by an Englishman about to attempt fresh journeys will be what things he must take with him from England. My answer is. Two things only, his woollen clothing and a pannikin. With regard to this last, the best form is one which I myself get from the Army and Navy Stores, and which is of the following character. The handle is double-hinged. and curved, so that it fits to the outside curve of the pannikin. A spirit-lamp is sold which just fits into the interior, and with it. a curved metal receptacle for methylated spirit which also fits into the interior. The whole is bound together by a strap, passing through staples upon the sides,_and through one upon the cover. The advantage of carrying this sort of pannikin lies entirely in its compactness.

Weight counts. Every ounce counts when you are knocked out upon the third day; and the third day-the forty-eighth hour of losing your way and of missing human succour-may happen to you oftener than you think. Weight counts even upon the first day. Weight counts all the time.

Now it so happens (why, I cannot tell) that when things are packed in a close compass they weary a man less than when they are loose and straggling, and there .is the further recommendation that when they are closely packed, there is less chance of knocking them about and hurting them. So this is the kind of pannikin I recommend. Note, that the people who know most about these hills, the inhabitants of them. carry no provision for cooking. But there is a reason for this which does not apply to the traveller I have in view. The inhabitants of these valleys walk from a house to a house, with the chance of one night at most in the mountains; they carry with them, bread, cold meat and wine, and for the night they make a great fire for warmth but not for cooking.

A person exploring at random, and liable to pass several nights in the open, must have the chance of getting a warm meal, and that opportunity will make all the difference if ever he finds himself, as he probably will very frequently, in a tight place. As to the woollen clothing, no one needs to hear the merit of that, and nowhere can it be got so good or so cheap as in England. Everything upon you should be of wool. except your boots. The differences of temperature are excessive, you are certain to be frequently wet, you will not have a change; good wool is, moreover, the substance that will wear least in the rough· and-tumble of your going. In this connexion I must speak of socks. Those who know most about marching, wear none, and for marching along roads it is a sound rule (startling and unusual as that rule may sound) to have the skin of the human foot up against the animal skin of the boot, that boot being well soaked in oil and pliable. There is no form of foot covering within the boot that does not chafe and blister the skin, if one goes a long way at a time, and for many days of continual tramping on end. That is the general rule, and in the French service it is universally recog- nized in the infantry.

So, save weight – don’t use socks!