Backpacking in hot weather

The balmy days of summer are few and far between in the UK

When you live in Wales (or Britain, come to that) you tend to get used to walking in miserable conditions - snow, sleet, hail, fog, torrential rain. Our wonderful, constantly changing climate means that even the Met Office can't get it right most of the time. You get a forecast for a warm, sunny day, set off in sunshine and end up soaked through a few hours later.

Harri and I have had some dreadful experiences over the years; we've shivered and dripped our way up and down Wales and around the South West Coast Path. During one unforgettable summer trip to the western tip of Cornwall, we walked from St Ives to Sennen in the heaviest rain imaginable. The coast path had become a raging torrent around our feet and the rain and wind was relentless (unsurprisingly, we only passed two other hikers all day and they looked as miserable as us!).

Three years ago, Harri tackled the Rhinogs in weather that was so bad I was fearful for his safety (yes, you've guessed it... in August!). When I finally picked him up near Harlech hours later, he was so cold we had to have the car heating turned up high.

Locked out in the rain at Ilston, Gower

My point is that in the UK we're so busy expecting (and preparing for) the worst possible weather that we rarely pause to consider the likelihood that it might end up being hot and sunny.

On our recent trip to the Somerset Levels, it was really blustery but the sun was so strong that we both managed to burn our lips. Had we been hiking in Europe, or the States, we'd have stocked on up lip salve with UVP but it didn't cross our minds that we'd need protection from the sun here in the UK, in May.

When it gets too hot there's only one thing to do... find water and JUMP IN!!

Hot weather hiking requires an altogether different mindset so who better to ask for some pointers than someone who lives in central Texas, where summer temperatures can reach the high 90s Fahrenheit. Joseph is an avid kayaker, who works for Austin Canoe and Kayak (ACK.com) so he's got plenty of experience of staying safe in the sun while still having plenty of fun.

So, while I sit here dreaming of another summer like 1976, it's over to Joseph.

"When you think about summer hiking, you probably imagine the blistering sun beating down, dusty soles edging on hot rock, snakes rattling from the bushes, and shimmering mirages off in the dusty distance. And yet, these thoughts aren’t all that far from the precautions one must take when considering a desert hike or during the summer months. Important things to consider on your hike are the conditions of the trail, staying hydrated, wearing adequate clothing and carrying helpful gear, as well as the possible dangers of exposure and fatigue when it’s hot outside. Consider the following points when you’re planning your next summer hike.

Enjoying the heat in Setubal, Portugal

Proper planning 

The first point of your logistics should be to tell someone you’re going for a hike. Tell them when, where, for how long and swap contact names and numbers for all those in the party. Prepare an emergency plan. Hiking as a pair or as a team is not only safer, but sharing the experience is more fun. Make sure you research your proposed route and any contingency plans. Take note of any potable water points or permanent streams and lakes as these may become useful in the event you exhaust your water supply.

Know your terrain. Sometimes it’s best to make sure the members of your team are of similar ability, but in the case of a family group or multi-experienced team, pace yourselves to accommodate the lowest level of experience in your party.

Check the weather before you go. This will help you to plan more effectively for possible severe events, even though it’s good to pack a rain jacket anyway. In more mountainous terrain, the weather is increasingly unpredictable and so too the likelihood of being caught in a thunderstorm, especially during the summer months and even in the desert.

A rare hot day in the Brecon Beacons (Harri on Pen Cerrig-calch)

Stay hydrated

The most important personal factor to consider when planning a warm weather hike is proper hydration. If you are hiking uphill and in full midday sun you can lose up to two quarts of fluid an hour, not to mention the essential electrolytes you are losing during this time as well. Be sure to pack an appropriate sized water bladder, a handheld water bottle, and a water purifier (tablet, bottle attachment or pump) if you’re going to hike for a long period of time. This will allow you to collect water from the natural resources along your hike such as streams lakes and pools. Note that long slimmer bottles pack more easily than shorter bulkier ones.

Clothing 

When packing clothing, be sure to carry proper attire for all expected inclement weather. You need to be prepared for thunderstorms, hail, and even 30-40 degree drops in temperature.  You should wear layers and pack extra pieces you may need. A sweat-wicking under layer, mid layer for morning and evening, and a rain jacket to protect against wind and rain. If you have room in your pack, it’s nice to have a third outer, warm layer in case darkness falls during your journey. You should also pack a hat or bandana and sunglasses in order to shield yourself from the intense sun.

However hot it is, always carry extra clothes for sudden weather changes

Footwear

Wear appropriate hiking boots and be sure they have adequate tread, can lace up tight, and fit properly. If they are too tight or loose, you can develop blisters and actuate poor circulation. High-topped hiking boots can also help protect your ankles through cactus and snake terrain. If you’re planning a trip with a few hikes, or a particularly long hike, and you’re thinking of purchasing new boots, it’s a good idea to break them in for at least two to three weeks prior. A tip to help minimize friction inside your boots and prevent blisters or hotspots forming is to wear two layers of socks. Wear a thin under-layer made from a material that helps wick moisture away from your foot and a second thick outer-layer sock to provide good support and cushioning. The friction will be mitigated between the two layers of socks and reduce any potential hotspot on your foot.

Selecting the proper pack

When selecting your pack, it’s best to consider the length of your hike and the personal items you’ve decided to pack including your water, food, extra clothing layers, first aid, and emergency kit. Typically a good size pack for a day hike is anything between 20-30 kilograms and will depend on how much water and food you need and whether you are carrying items for others (in the case of a dad or team leader). It’s important to make sure the pack is positioned on your body correctly, with the weight placed predominantly on the hips. Also consider packing the backpack properly by distributing the weight evenly. This will help you to save energy on the hike and eliminate a shifting load.

Bring the proper gear 

It’s important to pack anything you may need in the lightest way possible. You should bring a headlamp to be contingent on a late arrival time. Make sure to have sunscreen, bug repellant, extra batteries for your headlamp, a first-aid kit, a flint fire starter, and a GPS device or a map.

About the Author:
Joseph is an avid kayaker based out of the central Texas area. He has spent many a weekend and holiday on the Texas coast attending sea kayaking events or just having some fun with a kayak or paddleboard. He’s currently employed at Austin Canoe and Kayak (ACK.com) and loves that he gets to spend time working with his favorite toys.

A refreshing dip in a shallow stretch of the River Monnow... but never jump into deep, cold water

England Coast Path - Clevedon to Weston

Marine Lake will be transformed if a Heritage Lottery Bid is successful

With our elevensies rapidly devoured and the sky getting greyer and greyer, we reluctantly hoisted our rucksacks onto our backs and set off again.

Clevedon is home to the largest tidal pool I've ever seen. Marine Lake is located at the far end of Salthouse Bay and from certain angles it looks like a huge infinity pool with the open sea as its backdrop. The pool opened in 1929 and was very popular until the 1960s when package holidays abroad took off.

For decades, Marine Lake was neglected; then, about ten years ago, its fortunes began to change as Clevedon Town Council and other groups began to recognise its enormous potential for sailing, canoeing, open water swimming and model boat sailing. Grant-aided repairs were made in 2012, and the outcome of a £980,000 Heritage Lottery Fund bid is currently awaited.

I must admit that to my inexperienced eyes the pool looked wonderful, but apparently there is a leak in the outer wall of the lake, which means that the water level drops at low tide, making substantial parts of the lake unusable until the next high tide.

The Marine Pool with Clevedon Pier in the distance

If the bid is successful (fingers crossed) the walkways will be improved, the paddling pool refurbished and beach huts and showers added. I think it's brilliant when historic landmarks like this one are restored and brought back into use and, if Clevedon gets its grant, I'd like to return to see the transformation for myself (and perhaps take a dip).

It's a shame we didn't have time to linger in Clevedon because I would have loved to have popped in to the Corrister and White boutique cafe to say hello to Diane (we worked together for years) and treat myself to one of her delicious cup cakes.

And so we left Clevedon, steering ourselves for a long inland detour (such is the slow development of a national coast path) and, judging from the colour of the sky, an imminent soaking. We'd barely reached The Lookout when the heavens emptied; within minutes we were soaked. In half an hour, we'd gone from wandering through a charming Victorian seaside resort in glorious sunshine to staring down at a muddy inlet in torrential rain. And my poor little toe was hurting badly.

The weather changed as we walked around Clevedon Pill

We plodded on, very wet and (in my case) miserable. A cycle path across the River Yeo at Tutshill Ear is proposed and will hopefully be in place within the next few years but until it is, walkers have no choice but to head inland (no hardship on a warm, sunny day but rather less appealing in the rain).

If anyone ever tries to convince you the life of an outdoor writer is glamorous, I can assure you it's not! Not in the British climate anyway. On days like today, with my trousers clinging to my legs, my hair soaking and my toe in agony, I almost long for the relative comfort of my old office. Almost. But no matter how bad the weather, stopping was not an option - our car was back home in Wales and we weren't exactly in the middle of commuter land. We'd have to walk miles to stop walking miles so it made sense to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Returning to the coast after a long inland detour

On we trekked, our spirits sinking lower and lower. Of course, we don't suggest that anyone else walks from Portishead to Weston in one day; in his book, Harri is splitting the route into two day sections: Portishead to Clevedon and Clevedon to Weston. It's just that we needed to cover the whole walk in five days due to other commitments. It seemed a good idea at the time... when we were talking about it... in the sunshine...

We finally returned to the coast near Woodspring Priory. By now, the wind had died down and it was once again sunny.Had we not been so tired, we might have noticed the gorgeous scenery.

Coast path walking proper on the headland above Sand Bay

The grassy slopes of Middle Hope and the headland beyond are coast path walking at its best - undulating grassy paths with gorgeous views across the sea and the dry stone walls that I love.

We descended to the northern end of Sand Bay, where a ladies-only running group enjoying an evening run made me despair that I'd ever be able to move that fast again (I think I was hobbling by this point).

Sand Bay is another interesting place. It was the site of one of the earliest Pontins holiday camps, opening in 1947; during its peak, it had 300 chalets spread over 17 acres. Several changes of ownership followed and the site has once again opened under the Pontins brand in 2014, though now it is adult-only.

In the 1980s, the beach was raised to prevent flooding; as a result, it now has two levels, one at the original height near the sea and a grass-covered higher level beach adjacent to the road.

Weston Woods lifted our spirits temporarily

Earlier in the day, Harri had told me we'd be entering Weston via a lovely woodland trail running parallel to the toll road below and I was really looking forward to this final stretch of our walk through Weston Woods (the trees were planted on Weston Hill in the 1820s by the lord of the manor to create a private game reserve, however 80% were felled during World War I).

By the time we reached said trail, the sun was setting over the Bristol Channel and my limp had become a mile per hour hobble. It was great to escape man-made surfaces for a while though and my mood cheered as I enjoyed the dappled patterns created as the flame-coloured sunset broke through the trees. A century after they were razed for military purposes, the woods are once again thriving and providing worn-out walkers with an uplifting end to a very long day.

At last, we descended a stony track and emerged in Weston.

The scary causeway that separates the open sea from Weston's Marine Lake

The very last hurdle of the day (apart from finding a chip shop that was actually open!) was crossing the very-scary causeway across Weston's Marine Lake (yes, another Marine Lake which coincidentally was also created in 1929). The causeway separates the sea from the artificial lake behind and has been an important part of Weston's sea defences for over 80 years (a refurbishment programme has taken place in recent years).

I don't know if it was tiredness or the fast-dimming light, but I found the experience so terrifying that I managed to summon up my last ounce of energy to rush across at top speed. Goodness knows, I must have looked a pretty scary sight myself, hunched over with a huge backpack and a pronounced limp!

It was 9.30pm when we finally arrived at the Premier Inn which was to be our home for the night... and it wasn't a moment too soon. Twelve hours of walking is pretty tough, even in a landscape renowned for its flatness.

And we had to do it all over again tomorrow!

England Coast Path: Severn Estuary to Bridgwater Bay by Harri Roberts will be published by camau in ebook format in August 2014.

The tippler's tale

The coast path soars and plummets continually after Tintagel

Lunchtime drinking and afternoon hiking - definitely not a match made in heaven.

Harri loves to remind me about the time we were walking the South West Coast Path and had reached the north coast of Cornwall. (Sadly, we're still in Fowey, figuratively speaking, but that's another story). 

Feeling particularly energetic on our arrival at Tintagel Haven (we'd covered just under five miles at this point), we decided to hike uphill and into Tintagel proper. It's a strange place, Tintagel; its popularity with tourists is based solely on a fascination with the Arthurian legend, yet there's really little there except restaurants and shops that have flourished to meet the tourist demand. 

It was a warm afternoon so we settled down outside a pub and ordered two generously-sized bottles of pear cider (we were going through that phase). You know where I'm going with this... the ambiance, the sunshine... before long we were ordering another bottle, this time to share.

Saint Materiana Church is set apart from the bustling Tintagel

Alcohol always goes to my head at lunchtime but hey, we were on holiday and we only had another nine miles to cover before Port Isaac. We wandered out of Tintagel, happily tipsy and at peace with the world. Back on the cliff tops, we noted the stark contrast between Tintagel's touristy main street and the bleakness of the grey-stoned parish church, Saint Materiana between Tintagel Castle and Trevena. 

It was a tough afternoon's hiking. Roland Tarr (author of the National Trail Guidebook we were using) recommends allowing five hours from Trebarwith Strand to Port Isaac, which seemed a little extreme. Most serious coast path hikers don't dawdle after all, we stride with intent! 

The pear cider wore off leaving us with the familiar lethargy that inevitably accompanies lunchtime drinking. Meanwhile, the coast path took great joy in climbing steeply to 90 metres before plunging back to sea level... and not just once. Over and over, the path rose up and up, only to plummet minutes later. In Roland's own words 'there are seven very steep and deep valleys to cross' and every single one of them required a massive effort.

The sun was setting as we limped into Port Isaac

When we finally reached Port Isaac the sun was setting and we were exhausted. We had, however, learned an important lesson: keep the drinking for the end of the hike.

Which is why my latest escapade is inexcusable. It was my daughter Elinor's 26th birthday and she was back in Wales for an interview (she got the job). I'd already managed to get lost on a neighbouring housing estate as I walked to our agreed meeting point which didn't bode well for the longer hike I didn't have planned for later in the day. (Just to explain, it's one of those seventies estates with lots of little alleyways hidden between the houses and linking various roads.)

It was a bitterly cold day and the interviewers were running late. By the time Elinor finally emerged, I'd long given up circling Cardiff Bay to keep warm and was taking refuge in a bus shelter. When we arrived at the central Cardiff pub, I was in dire need of a double brandy but it was tactfully suggested that bottle of wine might be a more appropriate way to celebrate a daughter's birthday.

I rarely drink wine and I seldom drink it at lunchtime so the effect was fairly predictable. A large glass and a half of rose and I was, er, yes you've guessed, rather tipsy. I walked to Cathedral Road where my daughter was meeting a friend for an afternoon at the spa. We hugged and said our goodbyes. It was three o'clock and I thought I might walk home. 

The A48 through Llanrumney - dull and uninspiring

It's actually 13.5 miles from Cathedral Road to my house by road but I had a cunning plan - I would follow the A48 from Cardiff town centre to St Mellon's and then take a short cut through the lanes near Michaelston y Fedw. This seemed to me a great idea, though, to be fair to Elinor, she tried hard to talk me out of it! 

Footwear wouldn't be a problem - I was wearing my trusty Salomons - and my woolly scarf would keep the wind off my neck. My large shoulder bag held very little and I could button up my velvet jacket more tightly. No water bottle, no sustenance, no map. Just a crazy urge to walk miles on a freezing late March afternoon.

Just to add to the self-imposed pressure, I was going to the theatre that evening and had to be out again by 6.15pm. Oh dear, it's no wonder the UK's mountain rescue teams are kept busy throughout the winter, is it? This is what happens when you drink too much wine at lunchtime!

After a while, one bridleway looks very much like another 

Of course, I wasn't ever in any real danger but, an hour or so later, when it started snowing heavily, I started to regret my wine-induced enthusiasm for hiking. I hurried towards the lanes, rummaging in my bag for my Samsung Y - my map substitute. It was fine while I was walking along actual lanes but when I turned onto a footpath, it wasn't quite so easy to work out where I actually was. Everything looked vaguely familiar (we've done a lot of walking in the area) but with twilight rapidly approaching, the fields started looking pretty much the same. I headed along a bridleway only to turn and retrace my steps when I reached a closed gate with no sign of a stile (I now know that bridleways rarely have stiles as horses aren't terribly adept at climbing over them).

It was twenty past five and snowing. I was thirsty and worried. For the second time that day, I was lost.

There was no alternative but to ring Harri. His initial reaction was one of incredulity and our conversation went something along the lines of:

Harri: 'Are you completely mad? Why on earth did you think walking home from Cardiff was a good idea?' 

Me: 'I wanted a walk.' 

Harri: 'Do you know how far it is from Cardiff to Rhiwderin? And aren't you supposed to be going out tonight?'

Me: 'I thought I could walk fast.'

Harri: 'So where exactly are you?'

(At this point, I detected some irritation in his voice; he was translating a large document and I'd disturbed his concentration.)

Me: 'In a field.'

He sighed, exasperated, but I knew he'd come out and rescue me because, basically, he's a lovely, caring guy. 

Now the challenge was working out my exact location so he could direct me back to civilisation. It's actually quite difficult to describe a featureless field to someone on the end of a phone but luck was with me as this one had a line of electricity pylons running across it. My location determined, Harri explained what I needed to do to reach the nearest metalled lane. He'd pick me up from there.  

It transpired that I was actually only about half an hour's walk away from home but the terrain around here is undulating and I was so disorientated I'd probably have walked around in circles for hours.

I tell this tale as a warning to others whose love of hiking and a lunchtime tipple occasionally overrides their common sense. From now on, this is one tippler who will tipple only after her day's walking is done... . 

It could have been so much worse... the fields near home in winter

On - and off - the buses

You might need a bank loan if you're planning
to leave Porthleven by bus

Now that I’m in training for the Cardiff half marathon, I’ve been forced to abandon some of my shorter lane and riverside runs, and focus my efforts on pounding the streets of Newport West.

   

This morning, as I puffed along the pavements of Bassaleg, Western Avenue, High Cross and Rogerstone, something occurred to me. Despite passing numerous bus stops on several different routes, not one of the people waiting at them looked under retirement age.

Despite its terrain, most of Madeira is
accessible by bus

Of course, this could be because I’d waited until after rush hour to set off (unlike my mate Merv, I’m pretty useless at ‘car dodging’), however it is the middle of the summer holidays and with flexi-time/shift working pretty much the norm now, there must be plenty of younger people catching buses after 9am – or is there?

I love travelling on public transport; in San Diego, Paris, Barcelona, Madeira, Rome – anywhere, in fact, where it’s abundant, cheap and reliable, anywhere other than the UK.

In Wales, public transport is universally lamentable and costly – unless you’re travelling to Cardiff. The imaginatively named coastal bus services in Pembrokeshire – the Poppit Rocket, Strumble Shuttle, Puffin Shuttle and Coastal and Celtic Cruisers – are also great value and run regularly throughout the summer season but, unfortunately, services like these are in the minority. 

Elsewhere, the buses that do run are increasingly sporadic and, worse, completely unaffordable to those on low incomes.

My daughter, a social worker in the Rhondda, sees firsthand how many families and young people are effectively trapped because they lack the means to travel from their deprived communities to look for work or educational opportunities. How unfair and illogical that the retired teacher or nurse enjoys free bus travel for a shopping trip to Cardiff or lunch ‘down the Bay’ when a young person desperately seeking employment can barely scrape together the bus fare for an interview.

Travelling by bus to Lisbon from Setubal was cheap and easy

Let me make it clear, I’m not ageist; after all, at 51 I’m not exactly a spring chicken myself. I also think it's commendable that the Welsh Government recognises the importance of getting out and about for individual well-being. No older person should be cut off from their family and friends, from leisure activities and shopping, simply because they don’t drive and can’t afford the bus fare.

I agree wholeheartedly with these lofty ‘aims’ (good public sector word there) but not with the wholly predictable knock-on effect, i.e. massively inflated bus fares for everyone else, whatever their financial situation.

I went to a school reunion a few weeks ago and decided to catch the last bus home. The fare cost £1.60 for a single journey of around four miles, not too bad as a one off but it soon mounts up if you do the journey regularly. A quick glance around the bus informed me I was the youngest passenger by a good decade making me the only paying customer.

Journeys between neighbouring towns demand increasingly crazy fares. When Harri and I walked the Torfaen Trail  a few years ago, the deteriorating weather almost persuaded us to abort our plans in Blaenavon. It was only the cost of the bus fare back to Pontypool that kept us going – two single fares for a five-mile journey would have cost us over £9. 

It was a similar story when we were doing the South West Coast Path in Cornwall. The bus driver on the Porthleven to Penzance route admitted that demanding the astronomical fares really embarrassed him. 

I’m convinced that bus fares have risen dramatically since free travel for over 60s was introduced. It’s only a theory but I’m guessing that now the majority of the bus-travelling population does so absolutely free of charge, bus companies are hiking their prices (Freudian slip there) for everyone else.

Tomorrow as we embark on the Amroth-Swansea section of the Wales Coast Path (Harri is writing the official guide for Northern Eye Books), there is no doubt that the escalating cost of bus fares will raise its ugly head again. We have two buses to catch to our starting point at Amroth (we then spend the day walking back to the car) so, over the next few weeks, I’m certain to utter those immortal words ‘how much?’ 

I’m a socialist; I have no desire to see older people struggling to make ends meet or to experience social isolation because they can’t afford bus fares.

I often wonder, however, if the Welsh Assembly could have better used the money spent on free bus passes for the over 60s to subsidise public transport for everyone. I really am struggling to think of even one over 60 who isn’t far better off than Harri and me!