The natural Navigation: The Right Course, Naturally

I’m just back from some micronavigation in the Black Mountains in Wales.

I should get a chance to blog in more detail in time, but for now I just wanted to share a couple of nice clues I found in the light snow and ice I walked amongst.

The first photo shows the first snow I encountered on a climb out of the Vale of Ewyas. We are looking east in this picture, the only snow to have survived the thawing warmth of the day are the thin strips hiding in the shade on the south side of the path. This technique is analogous to the one using puddles on the south side of west-east tracks.

The sunlight can be seen lighting the hillside in the background and unsurprisingly there is little snow to be found there. It is only in the shadows that it survives on the lower…

Read More...

My thanks to Tim and Laura Moss, who braved the elements on Bignor Hill yesterday afternoon. They found themselves wrapping up warm and staring into the November wind thanks to a wedding present of a natural navigation course. (I didn’t get to read the card, but maybe it said something along the lines of ‘If you can smile through this, you’ll be very happy!’).

It was a fun afternoon, especially as I got to watch Tim and Laura’s face expressions as they grappled with such fun concepts as ‘How to find the south celestial pole from a field in West Sussex.’ Well, they did ask!

My main reason for posting is to let you know about Tim’s work. He runs ‘The Next Challenge‘, which offers advice, research and logistical support for those who are planning their own expeditions. He’s currently helping Sarah Outen in this capacity, as she…

Read More...

My thanks to Richard Webber for sending in this photo. The telegraph poles in this picture are leaning from the southwest to the northeast. This is in line with the prevailing wind, which is easy to tell in the photo if you look at the straggly bits that have been combed over at the top of the hedge.

The question is, is this a coincidence or the cause?

Please could anyone pass on any observations they have of leaning telegraph poles and together we may be able to forge a new technique.

Day in, day out, paths experience a different life to that of their verges.

Very often there is undergrowth on each side of a path, sheltering one side of them from the sun’s drying rays, but their exposure to and shelter from wind also sets them apart. This can be seen most clearly when snow or frost is thawing. The path will either thaw first, or, as in this picture which I took about ten days ago, they hold onto their snow for longer.

As I mention in the book, this is something that can be of value when walking at night. If the path is big, bold and broad like this one (an old Roman road) then no help is needed in following a path at night, but if you are following one of those less clearly defined snakes in the grass then all help will be welcome.…

Read More...

BBC Devon have a delightful story about the sculptor, Marcus Vergette, on their section of the BBC website.

Marcus is sculpting a series of ‘tidal bells’ that will ring out at high tide around the country. There is no mention of springs or neaps in the article, so I’m presuming the bells are being placed low enough to ring at a neap tide (the narrowest range between high and low).

In the book I touch on the fact that humans have become very adept at approximating tidal behaviour, but it is still impossible to predict tidal times or heights with absolute precision. The tides are influenced by the orbits of the Moon about the Earth of course, but also very significantly by the orbit of the Earth around the Sun, which fewer people realise. These are the factors that are relatively easy to predict. The effects of…

Read More...

I went for a short circuitous walk in the Lavington Plantation area yesterday morning. Always on the lookout for natural navigational treats, I was also secretly hoping to spot an adder – the area is known as a popular refuge for our island’s only poisonous snake. In fact there is even a marked walk known as ‘The Serpent’s Trail‘, thought by many to be named after its twists and turns, but actually in testimony to the reptiles that enjoy the mixture of sand and mud on its heathland.

The conditions were perfect, I could feel the summer heat rising up off the dust and sand and, had I been a snake myself, I would certainly have availed myself of the opportunity to do some serious basking. But sadly I met none and returned home without having dodged any venomous fangs, knowingly at least. Read More...

I landed back at Gatwick last night following an accidental visit to Tenerife.

The wind has been my friend on so many occasions recently, a dependable breeze helping me on my way through the woods or the clouds scudding overhead pointing the way home. It was probably time that it reminded me that it is not just in the business of helping me on my walks.

The plan was simple: I wanted to use a one week gap in the diary to get out to one of the wildest spots within five hours of home to do some natural navigation research. Days one to six went well as I walked, mainly without reference to map, compass or GPS (all were within reach), around the dramatic volcanic landscapes of La Palma in the Canary Islands. More details to follow here over the coming weeks, including photos of the incredible ‘

Read More...

The snow is melting away, but not at the same speed everywhere. The warmer wind which is blowing from the southeast today is leaving green swathes wherever it reaches. In this photo, which is taken looking east, the snow in the top right corner is being sheltered by woodland, but the snow to the left is also being left relatively untouched by the same wind because it is partly in the lee of the hill, but also because the woodland to the left of the picture is forcing the airflow up over it. In aviation terms the wind appears to be performing a ‘touch-and-go‘, coming into land before taking off again straight away.

I had hoped to sail to the Isle of Wight on Saturday with some old friends. We slipped Chichester marina at eight in the morning in my Contessa 32, fully aware that the forecast was a bit spicy. The sense of foreboding increased slightly when the Chichester marina lock-keeper called down to me, ‘Have you seen the forecast?’ I said ‘Yes. Force 6 gusting 9.’ He replied, ‘OK, well when the lock gates open you will need to gun the engine full throttle and hold your line otherwise you will be blown straight onto the piles.’ I thanked him and felt a small surge of adrenaline.

We made our way out into the harbour and at times it was hard to hear each other speaking as the wind whistled past our ears. After an hour I decided that we ought to swallow our pride and return to the marina…

Read More...