9. Reasons for getting lost: Distraction, part 1
9. Reasons for getting lost: Distraction, part 1
Could the answer really be this simple?
Dear Reader,
My research into why I get lost has been leading me down all sorts of rabbit holes for some time. I’ve got a list of things, factors and situations which I feel might contribute to my losing my way, and I’m working my way through them.
This is Distraction, part 1.
On a walk last week I found I could concentrate on nothing apart from the tiny stones and pieces of grit in my walking boots. Out of deference to the season – we’re in July, after all – I’ve taken to wearing shorts on my walks, and my boots, unprotected by trouser cuffs – and, in turn, my feet – have been taking a hammering.
Why?
Reader, the tongue of a walking boot is the hiking equivalent of motorcycle goggles or the car windscreen: it’s where grit and trail dust land, and where tiny flies and moths go to die. Until this morning, taking off my boots at the back door after my walks would be a revolting experience defined by the mashed flies stuck to my socks and the tongues of my boots, a scattering of prickly grass seeds programmed, it seems, to zone in on tender bare flesh, and stones which despite being almost invisible to the human eye take on princess-and-the-pea proportions when located in that tiny space between sock and boot liner.
When I’m out, grit and other trail debris in my boots distract me from my purpose, my surroundings and my steely efforts to not get lost. But I really don’t want to stop walking. Relace my boots when there’s a trail to explore? No thanks! So I grit my teeth (pun intended) and do my best to ignore my discomfort. On my walk last week I even found myself trying to decide whether I prefer a) static grit which remains stuck in one uncomfortable position but gives me the advantage of being able to anticipate exactly what my next step will feel like, or b) the kind of lumpy debris which enjoys being on the move in a random pattern of assorted agonies but which brings the benefit of perhaps one or two painless steps in every ten. On the whole I wasn’t sure whether I had an out-and-out preference for either undesirable scenario.
In short, I am generally too stubborn to give in and release any stony troublemakers from my boots.
My local walks are all routes I’ve done before. But reader, on this day I was lost. Why was this? Because the constant discomfort in my feet distracted me from everything else, including finding my way.
On my delayed arrival home, and after the familiar routine of emptying my Garibaldi1 boot of its squashed flies, I headed straight online to order a pair of ankle gaiters. I wear standard gaiters for winter walks and rainy day treks to save the drudgery of too much effort with hosepipe, brush and washing machine after every sortie, yet despite my ‘style’ being questionable at the best of times, in that I don’t generally much care what I’m wearing or how daft I look, knee-high waterproof gaiters worn with shorts is not a combo I’d dare to venture out in.
But cute little black ankle gaiters for the summer season? Yes please!
They arrived yesterday. ‘One size fits all’. No. Not true. ‘One size’ does not fit my very clumpy UK size 9 walking boots, which I lace in such a way as to skip a couple of eyelets, meaning there’s about a yard (exaggeration) of bootlace left over to tie in a double-double knot. These sleek new gaiters had no hope of fitting over this tangle of badly-forked lace spaghetti.
So last night I spent close to an hour trying to figure out the accommodation of laces, eventually resorting to a double turn around the top of each boot and tying the not-quite-long-enough remainder in a matched pair of too-small simple bows which I felt would be bound to come undone.
Yet despite last night’s misgivings I was excited to lace up my boots this morning and put my cute gaiters on over the top. It was a fight to the almost-death between me, two press studs, a pair of adjusted-to-their-limit rubber straps and too much Velcro, but I did it! I looked in the mirror. I’d never seen such a smart pair of ankles.
But less than 2km into my walk I was crosser than if I’d just found the contents of an entire gravel pit in each boot. The stiff tops of my gorgeous hateful gaiters were chafing my lower legs.
If this had been the familiar stone-in-boot feeling I would of course have ignored it. But I’d spent over twenty quid – not to mention a tonne of time – on these implements of hiking torture, and I was determined to fix their maddening issues.
I took a long swig of water from my rucksack’s water bladder pipe while I scrutinised my lower legs. And the penny dropped – slowly – into the slot.
Reader, I pulled my socks up. Literally.
#notametaphor
Just a single peep of teal2 sock peeking above my gaiters was enough to prevent any more skin shredding. Now that was better.
The remaining 15km of my walk were delightful as far as foot comfort was concerned, although sadly absolutely not in terms of navigation. I had set off early, in the cool, but as the hours passed and the sun got higher I found I was grateful for the shade of my cap, my 3 litres of water and my gaiters, which were already earning their keep. Not a single stone, grass seed nor gruesome insect body part had breached the Velcro seals above my neatly-packaged ankles. Yet my two and a half hour walk became a three and three quarter hour walk.
Yes, you know why.
I got lost.
A wrong turn had led me to another of my familiar routes, which was at least something, but although I knew the path, it marked a heck of a detour from my intended route for this morning. Oh well.
At last, with my walk ticked off my list, I peeled off my gaiters on the doorstep and asked myself some questions:
Was wearing gaiters the solution to the problem of getting stones in my boots?Definitely.
Did I get lost?
Also definitely.Had the specific distraction of having stones in my boots on my walk last week caused me to get lost?
Possibly.Had a lack of the specific distraction of having stones in my boots today prevent me from getting lost?
NO. Not at all.
So far, I can conclude the following:
Becoming distracted may be a factor in my getting lost.
Becoming distracted by stones in my boots may or may not be a specific factor in getting lost.
Ankle gaiters are difficult to put on, but oh, SO worth it, if I pay attention to my socks.
The research continues.
Love,
Rebecca
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What’s your secret weapon making your life more comfortable when you’re out and about? Are gaiters part of your walking gear?
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Crawfords Garibaldi Biscuits are a British classic consisting of two crispy, golden layers of biscuit with currants squashed in between. Perfect in tandem with a cup of tea!
Garibaldi biscuits are often referred to as dead fly biscuits due to the squashed fly-like appearance of their currants. They were named after the Italian general Giuseppe Garibaldi following his visit to England in 1854.
Quoted from www.britishcornershop.co.uk.
Colour not important. Today’s socks were particularly pretty though, which is why I mention them specifically.
You may be helping untold dozens with your words; for mercy's sake don't stop now!
yes love gaiters when hiking! :) And the joys of getting lost...now you've given me something to write about.