Mindset - When things don't go to plan

When preparing for any trip there are many aspects to take into consideration. Our free time is busy with gathering gear; training kayaking techniques; improving general paddle fitness, but we also need to consider the mental load. Apart from navigational skills and communication skills which I am grateful to have spent a large part of my time working on. (Thank you Ms Watt who taught me how to read maps in Primary 5, this led to a continuing passion and a well practised skill.) A key mental skill is resilience.

There are many aspects to resilience for a community, landscape, economy or individual. A broad definition is “the quality of being able to return quickly to a previous good condition after problems:” Cambridge dictionary. When out adventuring this means to me the ability to quickly deal with a problem and not let it spoil your day.

Singing in the Rain

Callum and I have an ongoing joke that we never complain about the weather. It was always “excellent”, “as expected”, or “not too bad”. It could be snowy, rainy, windy or just dreich but we always try to make the best of it. I will admit kayaking while hail is being blown in my face is not my favourite, but even then we find the adventure in it. There is a Norwegian saying “Ikke dårlig vær, bare dårlig klær” which translates as There isn't bad weather, just bad clothes. Which I think there is a lot of truth in, but what about when the clothes are not appropriate.

In August 2018 we introduced a good friend to hiking and camping. They had done some camping before and simple day hikes, but this was going to be a step up. They travelled to Trondheim the night before we left and we repacked and explained the plan. Due to the forecast being heavy rain we had decided to go to a different valley from the original suggestion, as hopefully the weather would be tamer there.

With three large backpacks we caught the early morning train to Kongsvall, located at 886.5m above sea level. Here we started our three day hiking trip in Dovre. We had three potential routes planned as Julia didn't know how long a day she would be able to handle, particularly with a heavy backpack. We left the train station, going past a collection of hyttes and within the first 15 minutes the rain started. It did not stop. There were slight variations between heavy rain, so heavy that we could barely hear each other speak, to lighter rain where it was possible to eat a sandwich before it was washed away.

We walked along, I made jokes and sang songs. Encouraging Julia to keep trying to navigate as they got used to the compass and map. Aiding when they got confused and pointing out that with the low cloud and poor visibility it was a particularly difficult task. Calm seas don't make the best sailor. There were moments of beauty including stunning rainbows. Callum was always careful to point out these things which I am sure cheered the group. At one point that morning Julia started to laugh out of nowhere. I was confused about what she found so funny. She pointed out that even though it was raining and breezy Callum and I still seemed cheery. We were going a lot slower than usual and sliding our way through mud and bog but we still seemed happy and this in turn kept her happy. She was glad that we were there on her introduction to this pastime and aware that not everyone would be taking joy from the current situation.

River Crossing

The ability to find joy in the small things, definitely helps when dealing with poor weather or tricky situations. Be that a mouthful of chocolate, a glance of a beautiful view, a bird flitting past or just a silly song. There is a peacefulness in being alone in the wilderness, but the right companion won’t disrupt that, while giving someone to share the good moments with and distract you from the bad. Someone to remind you of the story, someone to get stubborn for.

I find a certain stubbornness kicks in when the going gets tough. Beyond the joy of finishing a challenge. I am probably the most stubborn person I know. I rarely put my foot down but when I decide to do something it happens. I can trace this trait from both sides of my family, but particularly my Gran, who seemed to stubbornly survive when people expected her not to. Finally dying at 94, having watched each of her grandchildren grow up and even meeting 3 great grandchildren. The grit to get through a tough challenge is vital in many aspects of life, but when you are far from others in exposed situations it can be a matter of life or death. As can adaptability and problem solving.

On that day hiking with Julia we kept ploughing on in the morning due to the weather. We finally stopped for lunch quite late as we realised there was no chance of the weather easing. Sitting back to back on a rock Callum noticed he was cooling a lot quicker than usual. I figured he must be hungry and made it a priority to get a sandwich and a hot cup of tea into his hands. Sitting there he realised the issue. He wasn't just damp from sweat as he had assumed, but completely soaked through. After 10 years of good use his trusty rain jacket had failed.

When your raincoat fails

With lunch and changing into his spare layers he managed to get properly warm. As we ate lunch, the rain stopped, so Callum was able to enjoy a short period of dryness. When the rain started up before long, it was back on with his soggy raincoat, for the little protection it gave him. He also dangled two drybags on his shoulders; extended his map case over his front and stretched his backpack's rain cover up to create a hood: all in an attempt to keep the worst of the rain off his body. Adding to his troubles, Callum had not found time to replace his hiking boots, which he already knew were on their last legs, and the sole began detaching from one boot. We taped the boots up using sports tape, which helped. However, we weren’t sure how well the fix would hold on trickier terrain and knew that Callum would have, at the very least, damp feet all weekend.

We reached our suggested area and found a spot which was flat enough for the tent and most importantly was more soil than pond or swamp. Slightly higher than our surroundings left us exposed on one side but I knew the tent would handle it. Callum and I quickly pitched the tent while Julia watched on impressed. We have practised a lot and at this point don't need words to know what the other is doing. Not knowing how to pitch their tent is the mistake I am always surprised people make. I have dragged myself across campsites in the dark too many times to help someone who has never pitched their tent before.

Tent pitched, we then lazily lounged in the porch making dinner; keeping warm and discussing the next day. Attempting to dry clothes within a tent while it is raining is often futile. If a layer is slightly damp you can get them to dry out by wearing them (often on top of another layer) with the heat from your body causing the water to evaporate. This relies on you being roasty and the layer not being too wet to begin with. Shame the tent or sleeping bag often traps this moisture. If it just needs airing I sometimes try to hang them on the connectors between the inner and outer tent. This at least stops them getting wetter and keeps the smell out of the inner tent. For socks or boots, I have found filling a tough water bottle with boiling water and then placing it in can dry them out, but this is a time and energy intensive solution. This technique does work for heating up a sleeping bag while winter camping. Yet, when faced with a thick fleece soaked through while the wind drums the rain onto the tent there are limited options. Taking spares and using layers made of wool or polyester which still keep the heat in when wet is the best preemptive solution.

For someone who is easily woken I often sleep well when camping. The next day I awoke and crept out the tent; enjoying the sun on my face. I watched the morning mist drift away apart from in the deeper parts of the valleys. I gathered Callum's wet layers and hung them in the nearby trees. Bright sun and a slight breeze can be great drying conditions.

Baking flatbreads in the morning sun

For breakfast we made flatbreads, a new recipe that Julia introduced us to. While Callum and I schemed about how best to solve the problem of a raincoat which let the rain through. The solution came in the form of the survival bag. Apart from as a seat and one questionable decision of using it as a sledge I don't think Callum or I had ever used a survival bag before. Nevertheless, on advice from lecturers, friends and those more knowledgeable than us, it has had a space in our kit from our very first hike together, from Dalwhinnie to Corrour. That morning we took a penknife to it.

Problem solving and adaptability are definitely skills I have honed while being out and about. Tape, string, a knife and a bit of creativity have allowed me to fix many things. At least enough to get everyone home. Before we left Callum was modelling a bright orange survival-bag jacket with an awkward face hole/ hood and one arm. As there wasn't enough material for two arms, for the other arm we used a drybag to give some protection if he felt the need to use it. It was quite a comical sight.

Survival Bag Coat

The weather was still mixed, but a lot better than the day before. The forecast indicated that Sunday would be better still, so we decided to stick to our plan for a three day hike rather than heading back that day. The day passed pleasantly in warm sunshine with our route following along a babbling brook. The strange aspect that often the best days are the ones which lead to few stories. The heat of the day allowed for some of Callum's layers to continue drying off while tied to the top of our bags. He was relieved as he no longer had any spares left if he got wet and cold again.

Here comes the sun ♫

We lent Julia our walking pole as she was finding the bag was putting strain on her knees, an issue I know too well. It was also useful and passed between the group when traversing streams. Balancing on wet stones is tricky and an extra point touching the ground can stop you upending yourself into the chilly water.

That night we camped below a boulder-swept mountain, knowing that tomorrow our task was to go over it. Happily we had made it to camp before the showers started. We enjoyed dinner sitting in the porch of the tent, with a view over a herd of wild musk oxen, watching rain showers and fog patches sweep along the valley.

The next morning the sky was grey, and there was drizzle in the air. The darker grey rocks looked more imposing than the gorse and marshland we left behind. Even though it was August there was snow in our sights as we headed up the mountain from showers during the evening and overnight.

Initially Callum donned his survival bag coat, but fortunately the drizzle gave way before long and he was able to emerge from his bag before he got too sweaty. Callum scampered like a goat up the hill. I followed more sedately, chatting to Julia. As we ascended I noticed that she was clearly uncomfortable. I was making sure to keep up the chit chat as I was a little concerned about altitude. We weren't going above 2000 m, but I have noticed people being affected above 1000 m. I also find those who have had a cold or have asthma tend to be affected a lot lower down than you might expect. Then she admitted that actually she was just scared. The rocks were wet and were easy to lose your balance on and it was a long way down.

I called Callum back and then we all took a pause. We watched a very brave lemming crawl towards us then dart away as we discussed our options. It's always important to have a plan B and to know when to give up on the original plan. By this stage we reckoned the route up and over was likely to be easier than attempting to make our way around the hill at the same altitude. Julia was keen to keep going, just a little nervous, so Callum and I took some of the weight from her bag and we continued up the hill. We kept closer than previously and made sure to point out potential hazards to each other. At particularly tricky points Callum or I would first take our own bag up then return and bring Julia’s up. Your centre of balance changes greatly with a backpack on and it puts a larger strain on your knees. It is also a lot easier to climb using all your limbs without a backpack getting in the way.

Climbing Syndre Knutshøa

Julia focused on her feet with the occasional encouragement from us as we continued up Syndre Knutshøa. Within two hours we had reached the top at 1690 m and were rewarded with beautiful views of the surrounding landscape - for about one minute - and then the snow started again. Being on top we were a lot more exposed to the wind and snow, so we started down the other side of the mountain. Looking at the newly exposed view we kept plodding until our stomachs were rumbling and it was lunch time.

Atop Syndre Knutshøa

Lunchtime brought a change in weather. The sun shone. The mountain behind us offered protection from the wind and we spent a while making more flatbreads. We knew we only had four more kilometres till we were at the train station and there was plenty of time till our train arrived. Having eaten two days worth of food, and needing to carry less water due to the plentiful springs that two days of precipitation had brought our bags were light for the rest of the hike.

Fresh Flatbreads for Lunch

We calmly sauntered down the hill. Stopping to take photos and admire the views. Having a cuppa while sitting above a small waterfall we looked back over the trip. Julia had enjoyed the long weekend, even with the weather and various difficulties to overcome. I dozed on the train home as Callum and Julia gabbed in Swedish, looking forward to the next hike we had planned.

Back in the Valley