I love to ride mountain bikes… stay with me. It’s relevant, I promise. My bike is beautiful but it’s way more than I need for the level of riding I do, and it doesn't improve my riding. I was massively overbiked – the mountain biking equivalent of “all the gear and no idea” - so I booked some coaching with Keith Stocker Coaching. This transformed my confidence and riding and although I’m probably still a little overbiked for my ability, I can get the most out of my bike.
I think about this when I speak to people who carry a map and compass in the hills but admit they don’t know how to use them to navigate. They’ve bought the equipment and forget that the only way it’s going to help them is if they know how to use it. Years ago I was going up Klibreck and had forgotten my compass. The weather was rubbish so I was going to turn back when a fellow walker offered me their compass. She admitted she didn’t know how to use it so it was as good as useless to her anyway. How many of us do this? We know that any respectable hillwalking kit list will include a map and compass but it should also include the skills to use them.
The point of these rambling anecdotes? Investing in your skills is a better use of your cash than any kit will ever be.
So why learn to navigate?
1. Navigation makes your world bigger.
This might sound cheesy but being a competent navigator allows you to plan your own routes and adapt them in the moment. The countryside and mountains truly become your playground.
Adventures wouldn’t be very… well… adventurous if everything always went to plan. Obstacles arise regardless of how well you prepare. Picture the scene: you’ve walked into a remote area and plan to cross a river using a bridge. There was a storm last week and the bridge has been wiped out. The river is far too deep and fast flowing to cross safely. A confident navigator checks their map and finds a bridge or ford further upstream. They can divert to this then adapt their route from there to still enjoy their day. A non-navigator might turn around or, even worse, wing it and get into difficulty crossing elsewhere. Being able to make route changes on the go can save you from the disappointment of having to curtail your adventure.
There is no getting away from the fact that our hills are getting busier. Last week we were on Bidean nam Bian. We arrived at 8am to find the carpark already half full and returned at 3pm to utter chaos. People were parked on the carriageway blocking the view to the main road, they were abandoned in the middle of the road around the carpark and it took me 20 minutes to get out of the carpark. If you arrive to this kind of scene it’s easy to become part of the problem. Many people go out with the plan of doing a specific walk and are then blinkered and stick to their plan regardless. They’ve put all their effort into planning their day and have no alternative. But if you’re a confident navigator and have a map with you? No problem, you can plan a new route starting from somewhere less busy. By doing this you ease the pressure on busy facilities and can experience calm on even the sunniest of summer's days.
*Note: If you do this then make sure you let someone know that you’ve changed your route plan.
2. Being confident in your skills reduces stress.
Learning to navigate is one thing but knowing how and being confident are different. The reality is that when we HAVE to use our fine navigation skills it’s generally not planned and the circumstances are usually less than ideal. This can be stressful, so you want to be at the level where navigation doesn’t add to your existing stress levels. A useful way to think about the process of learning a new skill is a pyramid model by Noel Burch that describes 4 stages we go through in learning and I see it play out in hillwalkers perfectly.
When we start adventuring we are often unconsciously incompetent. This isn’t as insulting as it may sound, it just means we don’t know what we don’t know (yet). It’s a lovely stage to be at. You go for a carefree wander and wonder why people make such a big deal of safety in the hills. But then something happens. It doesn’t have to be serious but you realise that those wisened hillgoers you see with paper maps tucked into their jackets are onto something. You are now consciously incompetent and realise that there are risks involved in hillwalking that you can mitigate, so you have two options.
Option 1 is to ignore this realisation and become a fair-weather walker who only goes out when the forecast is banging. This still carries risk but the risk of getting lost is vastly reduced. You’re limited to a handful of walking days a year and spend the rest of your time admiring photos posted by others on Instagram.
Option 2 is to own your incompetence and learn to navigate. You become consciously competent. You need to think about the skills you're using but you know your strategies and gain confidence.
The only way you’re going to become unconsciously competent is by practising and refreshing your skills constantly. Navigation is a real use it or lose it skill and it’s one of the big reasons I enjoy teaching navigation so much – I refresh my skills and come up with different ideas on every course.
3. You are fully independent (of others and technology)
We all have that friend who proclaims themselves to be a master navigator. They usually have a Silva 4 compass and an OS maps subscription so they must be a pro right? But do you KNOW they know how to use these tools? Do you really want to find out that they’ve never had to navigate in anger when you’re on the Cairngorm Plateau with 10m visibility? If you have those skills too then you can support each other in making sound navigational decisions and override when necessary.
Years ago, a friend hiked into some Kintail hills from Glen Affric. She was with people she believed to be more experienced than she was. When they descended from the summit, in terrible winter conditions, she voiced that she thought they were going in a different direction to the way they’d ascended. She was assured by her over-confident companions that she was wrong and they could navigate perfectly well, so she followed on. They eventually reached the A87 and saw the lights of the Cluanie Inn. They’d gone in entirely the wrong direction and were now unable to return to their base safely in time before dark.
Something similar happened to me when out with a club in Arrochar. Every single person in the group started heading down the completely wrong glen and dismissed my protest that it was not the correct way. I eventually told the group to suit themselves and continued on the way I knew was correct. Some decided to follow me and were relieved when we came across the main path. Others had a long diversion before they realised their descent was wrong and had to come back! This kind of intervention takes guts and you can only challenge an overconfident person if you’re confident yourself.
It’s not only people who get things wrong. The use of phones to navigate is becoming the norm. I don’t think their use is a bad thing by any means. I use mine frequently to check my position. Why wouldn’t you use the fantastic technology that available to us? But it must be used in combination with your navigation skills. It’s well known that GPS can bounce around and give inaccurate readings. If you know how to relate the ground to a map then you can tell when your GPS has got it wrong. I’ve also had issues with my phone where my hands are far too cold or wet to control the touch screen, leaving me without the ability to use my phone at all, let alone for navigation. We know the battery on our phones can die for lots of reasons – too hot, too cold, searching for a network all day, taking pictures… The most bizarre and terrifying one I ever experienced was an electrical storm on the South Glenshiel Ridge. My GPS watch completely died and I suspect it was a result of static frying the battery. Technology is great but it doesn’t replace having the skills to go manual when things go wrong. Plus, sometimes it’s nice to fully disconnect and leave your phone in your bag for emergencies only!
4. Navigating is good for your head.
Lets face it, even if you’re a seriously competent navigator you need to concentrate when navigating. Sighting, counting steps and focussing on the features around you is all absorbing and completely mindful. Nobody walking off a hill on a bearing in terrible weather is casually thinking about what work awaits them on Monday or what they’re going to order from the chippy on the way home. They’re focused on the moment and even though it might sound stressful, it’s in some way very regulating. You are aware of the feel of the ground through your feet, the shape of the terrain and the sounds around you, which is not dissimilar to the walking meditation or mindful walking actively practiced by people worldwide. Then there’s the feeling of realising you can handle it. Nothing will ever beat the buzz I get when my fine navigation is successfully put to the test. Even when practising rough navigation in fine weather, having your eye into the landscape allows you to see things that the average Munro-bagger doesn’t. You notice the wildlife, the plants, the rocks, the soil… and it’s a brilliant way to keep your mind present and fully immerse yourself in your surroundings. This becomes a positive feedback loop - being in tune with your surroundings improves you ability to navigate! If you’re interested in this then I can’t recommend the work of Tristan Gooley enough. We all know moss grows on the north side of trees but that’s just one example of the incredible hints our surroundings can give us when navigating.
Moving to the more physical benefits to our heads, Annabell Street’s fantastic book “52 Ways to Walk” talks about the importance of map reading for growing our hippocampus. I’m no neuroscientist but Streets summarises the science well and explains that “straying from your usual route, guided only by a paper or a mental map will quite literally expand your mind.” This, she explains, is because the hippocampus (the sat nav of our brains) grows as we use it and we use it when we navigate. She even cites studies which link the diminishing use of this part of the brain due to technology with Alzheimer’s and dementia.
5. It’s easier than you think
We often get people coming to us convinced that navigation is a dark art and that those of us who can do it are somehow not normal. I promise you we aren’t superhumans and don’t dance with spirits and perform rituals in the woods. People might learn at different speeds but I promise that if you’ve managed to read this far then you’re capable of learning to navigate. Building up slowly is key and the National Navigation Award Schemes that we run are a tried and tested, progressive set of courses to make learning as individualised and easy as possible.
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