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50 PLUS MAGAZINE
50 Plus Travel
sponsored by “What is that terrible smell?” I heard a Frenchman say to his colleague. They were in a far corner of our crowded dormitory. “Disgusting,” the colleague replied. “Ugh!” exclaimed another. “I’m going to be sick,” said a fourth, and headed for the door. I lay in silence, feeling guilty. The smell was my lightweights, positioned under my bunk. You make no friends going lightweight, especially in a refuge.
CHOOSING THE PERFECT WALKING BOOTS By RichardVillar for Silver Travel Advisor “How do they feel?” asked my grandmother, as she watched me march the length of the climbing shop. “Fine,” I grunted monosyllabically. I was only 12 years old. Granny nodded. “We’ll have these,” she declared to the shop assistant and pointed at the leather walking boots that were weighing down my feet. “They’ll last forever and will see him out.” Granny was wrong, as my feet grew, the boots leaked and were soon replaced by others.Yet that was the understanding of the era. Walking boots would last for life and be with you to the end. I now know differently. Granny’s shopping was followed by a lifetime of poor footwear, including a spell in the British Army, which seemed to feel that all feet were identical. One look at my shoe cupboard and a disorganised pile of mountaineering footwear falls out. Boots, trainers, approach shoes, even mountain sandals. My favourites are the trainers, as they are lightweight, should not leak but do, and carry the Quicklace system, which saves me tying a bow. One tug with ice-cold hands and the trainer is secure. 10
For a day’s walking in the mountains, especially when carrying a rucksack, my trainers struggle. Should that happen, on go my boots. I try to be lightweight, which means synthetic, as leather is generally heavy. Lightweights can wear out quickly, so I buy a new pair each year. Be warned that lightweights can pong. I once spent six weeks crossing the Alps, from Geneva to the Mediterranean, and slept in many cramped mountain refuges. Walkers were usually on bunks. One night it happened.
The weight of footwear is important, as mountain lore has long declared that one pound on the feet is five pounds on the back. My two mountain trainers weigh 1.8 pounds (0.82 kg) and I barely realise they are on. My winter boots, with crampons, weigh 10 pounds (4.5 kg), a fifty-pound rucksack on my feet. I try to stay light. There are no shortcuts when buying new boots, as a wrong fitting can be ruinous. The secret is not the boot, but the sock. I spend as long choosing the one as the other. My socks are woollen for sure, merino especially, with something man-made thrown in. This gives socks strength, allows them to stretch, as well as survive a washing machine. Socks chosen, next the boots. I buy them in the afternoon, when my feet will be bigger, and I do not do a last-minute dash the day before a holiday. I know what design I seek before I enter the shop, and I choose an assistant who understands mountains. For most, a boot should be flexible but not too bendy. If I seek full bend, I choose a trainer. I like a rand that covers the toe, while
