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Start with the day you actually have

The best Lakeland day out is the one that finishes in daylight with something left in the tank. Before you fall in love with a route, do a little honest arithmetic. Distance and ascent matter far more than the numbers suggest: a rough rule is 4 km/h on the flat, plus about a minute for every 10 m of climb, then add time for bogs, scree and the stops you will inevitably take. A 10 km circuit with 700 m of ascent is a solid full day for most walkers, not a morning's stroll.

Then look at the calendar. In mid-December it is dark by half past four, so a big horseshoe needs an early start or a shorter line. In June you can be out until ten at night. Be honest about your experience, too: if you have not used a map and compass in anger, choose a route with clear paths, handrails such as walls and streams, and a straightforward retreat.

Read the map before you commit

A 1:25,000 map is your route plan, not just a backup. Spread it out and ask questions. Where does the path actually go? Are those tight lines on the hillside crags, scree or just steep grass? Is there a wall to follow in mist? Does the descent funnel into a narrow gully?

• Count the contour lines to gauge steepness — several close-packed lines at 10 m intervals is a lot of climb in a very short distance.
• Mark the escape routes: a ridge path that drops to a road, a bridleway, a valley track.
• Note the water crossings. After heavy rain, a normally easy beck can be a serious obstacle.
• Check a guidebook for path detail, but trust the map when the two disagree.

If the route has no option to shorten or bail out, it is not a route for an uncertain day.

Check the conditions, twice

Look at a mountain-specific forecast the night before, then again over breakfast. The numbers that matter are wind speed, cloud base, visibility, precipitation and the temperature on the tops, not in the valley car park.

Wind is the one people underestimate. Twenty miles per hour on the summit feels bracing; forty makes narrow ridges hard work and balance unreliable; sixty is a day to stay low. If the cloud base sits below your highest point and the summit is a featureless plateau, plan on compass work and pacing rather than following footprints. In winter, add ice in gullies and hard old snow on north-facing slopes. After rain, expect standing water, greasy rock and becks in spate.

Pack for the worst half-hour, not the best

You are packing for the fifteen minutes when the weather turns, you twist an ankle, or the light goes. A day pack of six to eight kilograms is plenty.

• Waterproof jacket and trousers, even in a good forecast.
• A spare insulating layer, hat and gloves, kept dry in a bag.
• Map, compass and a written note of your route and timings.
• Headtorch with spare batteries — checked at home, not on the fell.
• Food you will actually eat, plus a little extra.
• One to one and a half litres of water, more in heat.
• Small first aid kit, blister plasters, painkillers you know you can take.
• Emergency shelter or a large survival bag, whistle, and a charged phone in a waterproof case.

Hillcraft on the move

Set a turnaround time before you leave and treat it as a promise rather than a suggestion. Aim to be off the high ground well before dark, and give someone at home your route and expected return. On the move, navigate by timing and pacing as well as by eye. Tick off features — a col, a cairn, a stream junction — and if two or three do not match the map, stop and work out where you really are rather than pressing on hopefully.

Eat and drink before you feel you need to. Take short, frequent breaks in shelter rather than long, cold ones on an exposed summit. Turning back is not failure; it is the skill that keeps you walking for decades.

Small repair skills worth carrying

Most day-walk kit failures are minor and fixable in ten minutes with a little forethought. Carry a compact repair pouch: a metre of duct tape wrapped around a pencil, a couple of metres of thin cord, a needle and strong thread, a spare rucksack buckle, and a short length of wire or a split pin for a walking pole.

Learn a few fixes at home where your fingers are warm. A snapped boot lace can be rethreaded with cord. A torn gaiter seam can be closed with a simple running stitch. A pole whose locking mechanism has failed can often be splinted with a rigid sleeve and tape. A strap that has pulled free of its buckle can be knotted through temporarily. None of this replaces good kit, but it turns a miserable retreat into a manageable one.

Plan the route you can finish, carry the kit you hope not to use, and leave something on the fells for next time.