An Exploration of Walking Manners.

Manners, He Said

I’ve been meaning to have a word about manners on the hills.
You might ask
what I’ve got to offer and wouldn’t my talents be better employed sorting out
shortcomings on my own side of Paddy’s Milestone. Well I’m fraying a bit at the
edges but etiquette is my middle name and tales in MV over the last year of
dynamiting rocks in hills and car theft in Wicklow suggest someone needs taking
in hand.

First, keep it simple. My standard hill greeting is "How y’doin’". I don’t
expect an answer, just grin and move on. But I don’t expect anything less. There
was a guy on a perfect afternoon on Clach Leathad. He came towards us then at
about 50 metres circled us and headed off towards the Aonach Mor. Now this isn’t
being private – you don’t notice the guy who says "Nice day" and moves on but a
creep like that you remember years later. Equally don’t come up demanding "Did
you see that russet bustard?" We know you’re showing off. This one probably
doesn’t come up much in Ireland as you’ve eaten all your wildlife, as far as I
can tell. When I read the section on flora and fauna in a Kerry guidebook and
the interest concentrated on St Patrick’s Cabbage and a rare albino slug, I knew
it wasn’t going to be a prime time nature ramble.

Try and behave well on the summit. Don’t hog it if it’s pointy, it’s selfish
munching your rolls when someone wants to devour the vista. Arriving on the
summit gassed, stripped to the waist and shouting the odds at your similarly
clad mate is also out. Gordon ran into this behaviour in the Arrochar Alps, a
Glasgow playground. Same day he encountered a steaming pile of human faeces
half-covered by the leg of a pair of Ron Hill tracksters. This is wrong in more
ways than I can count.

Keep equipment under control. I don’t use poles myself but the nearest I’ve
been to a hill accident this year was with a highly conversational pole-user who
would turn to the person she was talking to and ignore the angle her poles swung
at behind her. When you take someone’s eye out, even if you don’t admit
responsibility, try not to blame the victim. As they peer out of their one good
eye, they don’t want you huffing at their failure to give you room. I’ve not
much time for cameras but when someone without preamble thrusts one in your hand
and says "Take our picture," the least you can do is give it back with a
thumbprint on the lens.

Sex can have its place on the mountain. In conversation remember it’s best
confined to tales of spectacular failure or borderline impossible boasting. The
first is generally funny; the second can start an argument that will take you
happily through a six hour mist bound bog trot. If you insist on actually doing
it, get a little privacy. Doing it well in public will just cause envy while the
pair we saw take to dry-humping in the middle of the Munro path to Beinn nan
Aighenan were just unaccountable. I hope I escaped with my reputation intact in
Letterfrack in spring. Ronnie and I found a sheep which had wrapped itself in a
strand of broken barbed wire on An Chailleach. We couldn’t pull it free but
Ronnie produced a pair of rusty nail scissors out of his first aid kit. The
sheep wasn’t cooperating so I kind of crouched behind it with a couple of
handfuls of wool at its shoulders to steady it. Ronnie clipped away and asked if
it was doing anything special at the weekend. Job done, we went over Maumonght
and down to Letterfrack. Just before going into the pub Ronnie gestured at my
trousers. "Going to clean yourself up?" Thighs and crotch were well smeared with
wool and lanolin. I brushed off looking furtively around for nods of
recognition.

Now I’ve little practical experience of the Irish walker. I don’t think I’ve
met one on an Irish hill this century. Partly this reflects my habit of
wandering off-season in Connaught though I’ve still bumped into Belgian, English
and American in that time. I may be wrong though. If two of you encountered
three figures in the mist and rain as you left the summit of Ben Gorm early
afternoon on 15^th April, you’ve broken that run. However I did meet
Simon in that pub and he didn’t stare too hard at my trousers which I take to
show he’s no need of this lecture.

If you’re overtaking someone on the hill, be emphatic. "How’re you doin’",
then accelerate past. Any signs of tentativeness may trigger a race for a couple
of hours along a six kilometre ridge. Don’t try any pleasantries like "Ah,
you’ll have to get going to finish by dark." This can equally be construed as a
challenge to race. Sometimes, though, the victim’s just innocent. Beinn a
Chlachair has a four mile walk out on a good track, plenty of room for mischief.
We started down it with no thought of competition, passed some obvious ramblers,
accelerated past a pair who were just losers then looked for further targets. We
left all in our wake, passing a couple of fit looking lassies by a piece of
corner-cutting for which a fourth official would surely have hauled us in. Soon
there was just one walker left, with a mile to go. He can’t have been unaware.
We were setting a killing pace and anyway he must have heard the sniggering as
we schemed to push him off at a stile or tip him into the Laggan as we crossed.
Gordon was by now getting self-conscious and I swear I heard him tutting as
Ronnie and I broke into a run and passed our victim at the gate of the car park.
We started celebrating in a way that was outrageous for two people who regarded
an exchange of manly handshakes for an outstanding goal at fives as excessive.
The loser blanked us which I thought was bad manners too.

And that should be enough. Oh except to address the problems which got me
started. Don’t blow up rocks on the hills. Leave unattended vehicles alone.
Unless of course they’re camper vans. You look at the owners with wispy beards,
thinning grey hair pulled back in pony-tails, Crocs on their feet. As for their
menfolk…. Anyway they’ve no thought for other road users and clearly want to
give as little as they can to the communities they’re blighting. But dynamiting
is obviously out of the question…I think.