The third article in a series of humorous rambles by Mike Knipe. Read the first article, Daft Baggers and the Art of Ticking Summits here and the second one, Tips For Leading A Walk here.

When provided with a list of almost anything, list tickers have to work through whatever is on it and then tick it off. Thus an LDP list ticker will have a list of LDPs and will work through these methodically, returning to those which temporarily defeated him until all is complete. List tickers sometimes have list ticking companions. Thus, list ticking competitions will add a bit of interest and the odd dispute to the experience. List tickers sometimes frame their walk certificates and have them on the wall in the dining room. List tickers' friends and relatives sometimes have a glazed expression and will often be seen to consult their watches to see if it's time to go home yet.

Then there's your escapologists. These may consider doing the Pennine Way as a prelude to a completely new life. All they have to do is fail to stop at Kirk Yetholm and keep going till somebody offers them a job. There is a slim but tempting opportunity to disappear completely and go and be a shepherd or something. Escapologists rarely escape on their first LDP. They keep going back for another go, though. They seldom, if ever fail to return home. This success may thus be considered a failure. Life is sometimes hard in the LDP game.

Impressing a potential mate is another possible motivation. An impressive feat of endurance and stoicism on a week's walking holiday at midgie time could be just the thing. This basic motivation is considered by many eminent psychologists and the lass at the chip shop as man's main reason for doing almost anything. The basic idea is to achieve immortality of the genes by passing them on. A romantic union which finally ends the aching loneliness; the prospect of joyful happy weekends with the great grandchildren; the economic and social safety of generating a large and happy family and, finally, a packed funeral at the crematorium accompanied by a CD playing "I did it my way". And all you have to do to get there is Hadrian's Wall in six days. Maybe.

Other people see the execution of an LDP as a kind of extended Lads' Night Out. There will be a small gang. There will be heavy drinking, heavy smoking, blisters, unhealthy pies, fart and bottom jokes and stinky socks. The novelty along with the ribald verbal horseplay may well wear off after a day or two, but many complete their walk and celebrate at the end by getting absolutely rat-faced in the hotel ... Again.

Some people end up doing it with the list-ticker they married, or to keep an eye on their beloved escapologist, or be a bit suspicious about their man's intentions regarding that Sandra lass, or to calm down the alcoholic instincts of the lad.

Others do it to resolve a self-confidence issue. They may be seen carrying a pack that's too big, nervously exploring the lower reaches of Jacob's Ladder or thrusting a fist into the air at the top. They will inevitably succeed by sheer determination, grit and bloody-mindedness. They're probably more likely to arrive at the other end than any of the above.

Are you a Purist who considers that ALL of the route, EXACTLY as it is written in the guidebook will have to be followed in order to qualify for the badge? Would you say that staying on the route every night provides that additional logistical problem which needs to be solved to really enjoy your achievement? Or are you perhaps a more relaxed Rebel who thinks that as long as you start at the start and finish at the end, what happens is between you, your chosen path and your proposed companion? Would you accept a lift if you were limping, tired, hungry, wet and fed up? Or would you plod on, considering a lift as a personal defeat from which honour would not allow you to accept the certificate and badge?

You need to answer all of these questions about yourself and your proposed companions before continuing. Don't leave this matter till Day 1.

"...All companions' inner fears and most disgusting faults will be revealed over the first few days..."

The key here is that potential companions will not really know much about each other at all, even if they think they've known each other for twenty years. What they haven't yet experienced is the constant whingeing, the unremitting expressions of nervousness about the route, the lack of movement out of the stink-pit in the morning before half nine, differing views about acceptable levels of personal hygiene and, frankly, the pratting about. And I haven't yet mentioned the all-night snoring marathons and the belief that an extended session of noisy windypops in the tent or B&B is a source of hysterical amusement, even if it has to be accepted that there has to be a certain amount of skill and muscle control employed to be able to sound off a reasonable approximation of the French National anthem on a whim complete with hilarious saluting. Apparently.

Undertaking a long distance walk will place heavy pressure on already shaky relationships. All companions' inner fears and most disgusting faults will be revealed over the first few days. Large groups will split into factions. Small groups will split into smaller groups and there will be pairs of subdued and lonely individuals. Walkers coming the other way will be greeted enthusiastically like long-lost kin, chocolate will be offered and they will be engaged in long, delaying discussions about the route ahead, the weather, the walking partner's lack of a sense of direction and jokes will be shared about the depth of the bogs and that dog at the B&B with no teeth. There will be much empathising, and, probably, a bit of sympathising, too. Then the plod will start again. The dreary, dreary, silent plod.

First, there's the "O" level stage

This is suitable for first timers or "newbies" having their first arguments along the trail. "O" level routes can usually be undertaken in a week, for those still pretending to be getting along nicely, or a few days for those in a rush to get it over with. Rows will usually fall into the category of "spats" and will not last long; on the surface at least.

"As you pour the water over the only serviceable teabag left in your pack after that exciting river crossing, a large black slug floats to the top. Smashing."

Suitable trails are: Hadrian's Wall, The Dales Way and The West Highland Way. The trails are heavily populated with groups not talking to each other and there are loads of pubs, hotels, B&B's Hostels and campsites along the way to make planning and splitting up so much easier. Public transport is easily available for those who just want to go home and forget about it all. Being heavily used, there's usually a stranger to complain to and swap stories of misery, 48-hour sulks and sleepless nights of seething anger in the tent as another shivery grey dawn breaks mistily through the drizzle. And then, as you pour the water over the only serviceable teabag left in your pack after that exciting river crossing, a large black slug floats to the top. Smashing.

Next up the scale are "A" level walks

Offa's Dyke and the Coast to Coast are good examples. Again, a fair amount of accommodation is available, and there's public transport, often after a bit of a walk. But the main difference is that these walks are longer – taking more days to complete. This gives more opportunity for rows to develop into really nasty verbal skirmishing during which people can call into question each other's personal hygiene, morning habits, financial carefulness, dubious criminal records and sexual peccadilloes. Its usually not until the second week that actual threats are made, and these are usually veiled. Getting your walking partner into fisticuffs with locals outside a country pub is a useful but sneaky strategy, usually fairly easy if he or she is opposed to fox hunting or considers stock farming to be outrageously cruel. Social skills like this are at a premium on such LDPs.

"This gives more opportunity for rows to develop into really nasty verbal skirmishing during which people can call into question each other's personal hygiene, morning habits, financial carefulness, dubious criminal records and sexual peccadilloes."

Diploma level walks

Include The Pennine Way and Southern Upland Way. First timers rarely achieve success and often give up during the first week of constant rain and persistent headwind. Blisters and unpleasant rashes happen. Relationships inevitably take a bit of a pounding in such circumstances and the recent ancestry and provenance of group members and their resemblance to the family dog may be discussed during the increasingly brief meetings along the trail after about day 6. As the group splits, those lagging behind may find that their reputations have been slandered by those going before and that there are difficulties in finding accommodation and meals. Landladies will eye you suspiciously. Publicans may shake their heads and point to the door. If you're behind, you may encounter locals unreasonably accusing you of fly-tipping, leaving gates open for stock to wander along the local trunk road, or of being the carrier of a particularly nasty bovine virus. Watch out for the wanted posters and beware of a flashing blue light. A state of constant paranoia should be developed for successful survival to the end. They really are out to get you, you know.

Honours degree walkers

On such as The Cape Wrath Trail, The Cambrian Way or the TGO Challenge walkers will have to invent their own routes to some extent. Thus, it's quite possible that relationships may not be so strained as on more prescribed routes. It's much more possible for group members to have entirely different routes, only meeting up at the beginning and the end of the walk – and thus, enjoying the possibility of swapping stirring tales of whatever happened along the way, always assuming that something did actually happen and it wasn't just walking walking walking. Meetings will happen briefly and by chance and there will be much mutual congratulation and back-slapping. Jelly babies may be shared. You will give up your last cupful of hot water for their brew. Then you will part, like brothers – you for the High Road, he for the Low Road AKA.

Alternatively, less confident participants may well feel the need to stick more closely together in the face of wilderness. This is extremely dangerous. Day 12 tents can be very rowdy. It's remarkable just how deep a hole can be fashioned with a poo trowel, given three metres depth of soft peat – if you catch my drift...

"...It's remarkable just how deep a hole can be fashioned with a poo trowel, given three metres depth of soft peat – if you catch my drift..."

Masters Degree

LEJOG Lands End to John o' Groats. Let's just say that everybody turns up on their own eh? Nuff said. No names no pack drill ...

PHD

Just don't even go there. You'd have to walk around the coast or something. Unless you're deeply in love with each other, then it's a different matter. PHD routes are entirely invented by their participants. An example could be Folkestone to Cape Wrath at night in winter wearing a gorilla outfit. A justgiving account is compulsory.

You could backpack all the way

You couldn't, actually. This is very hard work and, combined with the headwind, the midnight flooding, the King Slug in your tea, the stuck sleeping bag zipper as Mr Bladder comes to call at 3:00 a.m., the aches, the pains, the injuries, the depression, the painful lesions on the feet and about the crotch, the stinking sulky companions and the phone call from home about the burglary, and the fact that your Nan has gone missing again will ensure that you only spend the first couple of nights in the tent. If you're doing your own cooking, you'll need lots of toilet paper and some Imodium. If your pal is doing the cooking you'll need a new tent and the phone number of the nearest Burns Unit.

Bed and Breakfast

This is great. A healthy option. There will be a shower. It may have moss growing in it and the water will be a mere tepid dribble of tea-coloured water due to the sheep drowning in the water tank up the hill, but the landlady will cosset your feet, lose one of your socks in the washing and her toothless dog will have donated some extra wildlife to your bedding. Your hosts won't understand the need for heating and the wind howling through the gaps around the window will remind you of Emily Bronte for some reason. You will get an enormous breakfast, though, (after which it will be impossible to walk anywhere till well after lunchtime) and you may be able to visit a local pub which is only a mile and a half away over the fields. On the way back you will investigate various ditches, hedges and sloppy ploughed fields and it will be a lot further back than you thought. The landlady's toothless dog will suck your ankle angrily and growl with frustration as you creak open the front door.

"...You may get beaten up by the locals if you win the jackpot on the bandit or take too long on the pool table, or mention fox hunting, politics, favourite crisps, the national park authority or the NHS..."

Pubs

A luxury option. There will be comfy beds, hot showers, a reasonable breakfast, a packed lunch and beer. True, you may get beaten up by the locals if you win the jackpot on the bandit or take too long on the pool table, or mention fox hunting, politics, favourite crisps, the national park authority or the NHS. Walking with a hangover is a good excuse for silence amongst the group, though, so that's a bonus, really. You'll be able to buy a meal which will involve chips and little packets of red sauce for you to steal. This is good. You may well spend most of your money.

Hotels

Who do you think you are, Madonna?

It's compulsory to pile into a pub and order lots of beer and maybe a fine malt for the celebrations. Sheer relief that the torture has finally ended will express itself in drunken declarations about how much everybody loves each other and how their presence on the hardest bit of the walk (the middle 99% of it) ensured success. Stirring tales of teetering over sucking bogs, fending off aggressive cattle, having your leg sucked by a rabid cross-bred and how your underpants blew away in the night will be explained to the barmaid (the one with the rictus smile and the glazed eyes) who keeps checking what time it is. You will ring home. Your Nan will have been found in the woods by the Langdale Fell rescue team and you'll have an envelope waiting for you at home from those nice people at the Premium Bonds. You will start to consider something for next summer. You will have a lovely tan and you will no longer notice that you smell like a yak-herder's incontinent Uncle Vlad after a hot summer day herding reluctant yaks over a very long and difficult mountain pass. The Ridgeway, perhaps..... Maybe the Cateran Trail.....

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About the author and about the artist

Mike Knipe (left) is ... "an old (ish) codger, or veteran. I've been wandering about the hills since the 1960's (when I were but a lad). A Lancastrian, brought up in Yorkshire and now living in County Durham – so handy for the North Pennines, Lakes, Dales, Cheviots, Borders... I like to walk about a lot, both on the hills and, sometimes, underground. I'm, a TGO Challenge "Leg End" (Ten TGO Challenges), backpacker, bagger, and general outdoor addict with a proper beard and everything. See the blog! www.northernpies.blogspot.com - full of meaty goodness in Northern kind of way."

Illustrations are by Patrick Latham (right) www.3rdmancartoons.co.uk.
Patch is a freelance cartoonist and illustrator living in Oakham, Rutland. He's available for private cartoon and caricature commissions as well as book, magazine and web illustrations.