Navigational wizardry: technical skill or all in the mind?

The wind caught me as we crested the ridge.

“…64, 65, 66. Ok, that’s 300m.”

I paused and checked behind me, a quick headcount of my group and a mental note of how alert everyone was looking. All good. Owen, my co-leader, was doing a sterling job of back-marking and keeping everyone moving and happy. My job was to keep us on track. Or rather, off track.

We were heading up a relatively minor mountain by Scottish standards, just over 700m high, but it was cold, wet and windy. Visibility was around 50m, and our route took us well off the beaten track, squelching through bogs and weaving around crags as they loomed up in front of us. For many in the group, this was their first experience of walking in the mountains, and whilst I felt comfortable and at home in this complex terrain, it was very much an alien landscape for most of them. They were a hardy bunch, but there was a hint of fear on their faces, and rightly so – a navigational mistake here can have serious consequences.

The contours drawn on the map allowed me to build up a picture of what lay ahead, and as I carefully paced out 100m sections I smiled as each small hill or valley emerged from the mist as expected. I knew I had to get this right.

*****
A week later, at a local orienteering race, in good weather, on a hill that I knew well, I grabbed my map from the start official.

“Have a good run, Pippa,” rang in my head as I got stuck into the first hill, vowing to ‘do well’ in the race. 

60 seconds later I bothered to look at my map. I was running 90 degrees the wrong way. Drat. Embarrassment and anger kicked in as I turned left and headed back down the hill I had just run up…

Ok, stay calm, you can sort this out.

I took a quick glance at the map, looked up, and spotted the first control. 

Brilliant, back on track. I rushed over to the control and then on across the hill side, once again eager to ‘do well’.

Five minutes later, I had crossed the wrong stile and was wondering why there was a valley in front of me rather than a hill. I think you get the picture!

Now, in my defence, my mind was a little preoccupied as I had a grotty cold and wasn’t really in a fit state to be out on the hill. But why had I suddenly lost the ability to get the basics right? Running along a wall and selecting which stile to cross shouldn’t be too tricky for someone with 30 years’ experience of navigating in the mountains!!

The truth is we all deal with pressure in different ways at different times. It can make us rush and make mistakes, or it can make us focus and concentrate. I hadn’t suddenly forgotten all the skills I had learnt and used time and again, but during the orienteering race I was focused on the outcome – focused on doing well, not looking stupid. However, on the side of the mountain, in bad weather, and in charge of a group, I had to stay calm and focus on the process. I had to get it right.

*****

We paused in a sheltered spot below the summit plateau. Food, hot drinks, and another round of replacing very soggy gloves with less soggy gloves, plus a check-in with everyone.

I outlined two options: nip up to the first (lower) summit and then back down the way we had come, or carry on for a kilometre across the plateau to the main summit before dropping out of the wind and completing the loop we had planned.

Now, it would take a whole separate blog post to discuss the subtlety of managing the group dynamics, and why I gave them the choice rather than simply making a decision. But, crucially, based on my navigation skills, I was able to give them a very precise indication of the time, distance, terrain, and weather associated with each option. 

20 minutes later, we turned our backs to the wind, and the tiny pile of rocks that marked the main summit. The compass guided us down the hill, out of the mist, and worried faces broke into relieved grins as everyone began to realise what they had achieved.

I wondered if they also realised they had just taken their first steps towards building their own toolkit of mountain navigation and decision-making skills. Steps that would hopefully open the door to a lifetime of exploring the hills for themselves.