We are all bipeds. We are all experts at walking. Legs require no skills to use or licence to operate. They're built in, cost us nothing to use and are greener than any other means of transport. Legs! Stick 'em in a couple of boots and they'll do thousands of miles without so much as a service. Marvellous things. Legs have been a recent discovery for me. For years I've been travelling on bicycles, occasionally boats and, under pressure, some kind of motorised transport. Horses are fine, but are limited to particular types of terrain. Legs are versatile. You can vary your mode of transport on a whim. Rides in trains or hay-carts, buses and boats are all possible complements to a foot-journey.

At walking pace you become part of the infinitely complicated countryside. After a while, animals and birds tend not to take flight at your approach. Strangers stop to chat, flattered that you are exploring their neighbourhood at a civilised, respectful pace. On foot you pose no threat and appear to have nothing to hide.

My life as a leg-advocate began with a walk across Europe, following the mountain ranges of the continent from Cape Finisterre in Spain to the Black Sea. This 10,000-kilometre hike took me one and a half years, and was the greatest adventure of my life. I learned a lot from that walk and I hope that the notes below will be helpful to you. I must however ask you to remember that I am a newcomer to long-distance walking (my only other hikes have been a youth hostelling trip in the Peak District with my mother, a one-week hike in Wales, and another week in the Greek mountains) and so my 'tips' are based on a limited number of extremely vivid experiences rather than a lifetime's worth of muscled miles.

First, let us consider the principles.

Principles

When I began my trans-European walk I made the mistake of being so excited that I forgot to rest. I walked for eighteen days non-stop through the sierras of northern Spain. It did not occur to me to take a break until my right leg swelled up like a gourd and reduced me to an agonised hobble. After that I stopped every five to seven days for at least one day's rest. I learned that being conscious of incipient ailments will prevent them from becoming problems. Blisters, muscle strain and back-pain can be avoided by being continually aware of how your body is functioning.

The Romans, who were experts at thousand-mile marches, walked to a system of three days on, one day off, a routine which they found ideal for legions crossing continents. One other authority I'd like to mention is Christopher Whinney, who once walked from London to Rome and who subsequently set up the walking-holiday company Alternative Travel Group. After prolonged trial and error, Christopher found that, just like the Romans, his groups remained at their happiest and most cohesive if they took every fourth day as a rest day.

Ultimately, of course, you must find your own rhythm. There is no golden mean for everyone. If you walk one day and take two off, that's fine if it's bringing the best rewards from the journey. On several occasions on my European amble, I spent a week or so in one place, or made wide detours from my planned route, and on a couple of occasions walked backwards to visit places I'd missed the day before. There is no magic distance that should be covered each day; a fit walker with a medium-sized pack can cover say 20 or 30 kilometres in one day with no trouble. Sometimes I've walked over 50 kilometres in one day, but as a result have been wrecked the following day.

I'll just add that I'm not a believer in training. If you want to try a long-distance walk, just go. Take it easy and use the first days (or weeks) to get fit.

So much for the rhythm. Now, where to go? Because walking is the slowest form of travel, you do need to choose a route that brings variety on an almost hourly basis. Either you choose a landscape that is chock-a-block with physical diversity, or you learn to spot the interest in what to many would seem a dull landscape. An interest in flora and fauna, history, geomorphology, agricultural implements, mountain cultures... whatever (the list is endless) will turn a walk into a fascinating quest. Some landscapes hand the walker hourly interest on a plate. Rambling in mountains; following the courses of rivers; following coastlines: all are 'themes' which, through the natural lie of the land, will create a change of view with every hour. Also in this category is the long- distance footpath, way-marked and 'themed' to provide interest. The pilgrims' Cami-o de Santiago, across northern Spain, falls into this category.

The one area of essential knowledge that is required before embarking upon a long walk in wilderness areas is navigation. This means being able to use a compass accurately and in gales and mists. It also means being able to read maps and to master 'dead-reckoning'- the ability to estimate how much time it will take to cover a certain compass-bearing. It is essential to know how to do this before walking in mountains.

There are some terrains, and I'm thinking of mountains in particular, which are potentially dangerous for inexperienced walkers. It is important not to be lulled into a sense of false security by a belief that superior equipment is a substitute for old-fashioned savvy. Had I not spent 25 years messing about trying to climb mountains in Scottish winter white-outs, I would not have survived my trans-European wander. To walk safely in mountains, it is essential to feel confident using a map and compass in zero visibility and gale force winds on precipitous ridges. This is unlikely ever to happen, all being well, but it is a possibility and you need to be ready to cope. This kind of knowledge can be built up over time, in the company of a more experienced companion, on, say, the hills of Wales, the Pennines, the Lake District or Scotland. The most testing ground I've ever found for navigation in mist was Dartmoor.

Saving weight has the dual benefit of making the walking less strenuous and reducing the clutter of everyday life to a minimum. I cut my comb in half, trim the edges of maps and keep my hair short, not because these minor weight reductions are noticeable individually, but because each reminds me daily not to overload my rucksack with unnecessary stores. Carrying a half-kilo of jam unopened from one town to the next is a waste of effort. And while a shortage of water is to be avoided at all costs (dehydration is lethal), it is worth remembering than one litre of liquid really does weigh one kilogram. It pays to think ahead. Ask locals where the next spring or tap can be found rather than loading up like a camel.

Practicalities

It is not worth getting obsessive about equipment, beyond the one rule of minimal weight and maximal safety. There are, however, a number of equipment items whose suitability to your needs will affect your enjoyment of the walk.

The single most important requirement is footwear. The first decision to make is between running/training shoes or boots. The former do not need wearing in, are far lighter than boots and have a 'softer' feel. Boots offer ankle support, a leather construction which breathes better than man- made fibres, a degree of waterproofness and grippy treads for steep or uneven surfaces. Again, it is down to personal preference. When my cousins Richard and Adrian made their foot-traverse of the Himalayas in 1982, they wore running shoes; when I made my European mountain hike ten years later, I wore boots. After much experimentation I settled on the British-designed 'Brasher Boot', which combines running-shoe technology with the construction of traditional leather boots. Brasher Boots are lightweight and comfortable.

Footwear, more than any other item of walking equipment, has the power to determine whether a hike is hellish or heavenly. A perfect fit is critical. My method for selecting the correct size (taught to me by Chris Brasher, the Olympic gold medallist runner and designer of the Brasher Boot) is to push my foot forward as far as possible in the unlaced boot or shoe. There should be space to fit a finger down the gap between the heel and the inside of the boot/shoe. Footwear which is slightly too tight is the most common cause of foot problems. No matter how good the footwear, extraneous factors such as wet weather or extreme heat can cause sores and blisters. On extended hikes, washing feet daily helps to prevent infection. Too-long toenails collide with the front of the boot or shoe during descents and, after a period of excruciating discomfort, will turn black then fall off. During my hike I lost a total of ten toenails, to no noticeable disadvantage. They seem fairly superfluous.

Foot problems can be largely circumvented by giving these put-upon appendages considered thought at least three times a day. At the end of a day's walk I wash my feet, even if doing so means using precious supplies of drinking water. With practice, it is possible to wash two feet in half a litre of water, tipped in a trickle from a mug. In winter, feet can be cleaned by running very fast on snow, but the subsequent pain as they thaw is dramatic. Washing feet in the evening means that they spend the night bacteria-free in the sleeping bag, thus encouraging the healing of any sores.

In the morning I inspect each toe and every point of wear on each foot. I always pierce blisters the moment they appear, using the tip of a sewing needle, sterilised in the flame of a cigarette lighter. Blisters are more likely to appear when the skin has been softened by waterlogged footwear or sweat. Morning is also the time to clip toenails which, left unattended, can wear holes in adjacent toes and abrade the ends of socks. At midday, I de-boot for lunch, giving my feet the chance to bask in ultra-violet light and my boots the opportunity to air. This pleasurable diversion has to be forsaken if lunch is being taken in a bar or restaurant.

Toe problems can be averted by using Scholl's Toe Separator. This is a small wedge of foam rubber which can be inserted into the gap between two quarrelling digits. For anyone prone to pronation (walking on the outside of your feet), a toe divider inserted between the two smallest toes on each foot will prevent the little toe being rolled under the ball of the foot and gradually eroded.

While I'm dealing with leg-matters, I'll briefly mention knees. After feet, these are the rambler's least reliable component. Aches (and damage) most frequently occur as a result of long descents or stumbles. I have no idea whether there is any physiological sense in this, but my own technique on long descents is to take exaggeratedly short steps, keeping my knees bent. Walking thus, the legs act like car shock-absorbers. The shorter strides also allow greater control and more precise placement of every footstep. It is easier to be thrown off balance while carrying a loaded rucksack, and knees are frequently the weak link which hit the ground first, or which suffer violent twisting. An accident can be caused by a minor misplacement of the foot: a boot skating on a tiny, unseen pebble, or glancing off a curl of turf, or a heel skidding on a coin-sized spot of ice.

Many walkers protect their knees by using a walking aid. There are three alternatives. A conventional walking stick is the least expensive and in most mountainous areas can be bought locally. They are usually heavy and cannot be adjusted for length. Far better is the lightweight, adjustable walking pole, such as the Hillmaster series sold by the Brasher Boot Company. These poles come with a variety of hand grips and can be adjusted to suit body weight and terrain. The carbon-fibre model weighs only 266 grams. When not in use, the sections retract, allowing the poles to be strapped to the side of the rucksack. Finally there is the combined umbrella/walking stick (see below).

After boots, the rucksack is the next most critical item of equipment. Like footwear, the rucksack should be carefully chosen to fit the wearer. A waist belt is essential, as is a chest strap. A properly-fitting rucksack divides the load between the shoulder straps and the waist-belt. Rucksacks of the same capacity can range widely in weight. In the Karrimor range, for example, the 35-litre capacity ultra-light 'Kimm 35' model weighs only 650 grams, while the high-specification 'Alpiniste 45+10' (45 litres) weighs 1,900 grams. After various experiments, I now find that it is worth carrying the extra grams to guarantee that a rucksack is comfortable. Rucksacks with non-adjustable backs are substantially lighter than the more sophisticated adjustable models. A zip compartment at the foot of the rucksack can be useful for stowing a tent, where it can be kept separate from the rest of the luggage; a sensible precaution since it will sometimes be wet.

Individual items of clothing should be chosen for their light weight, comfort and insulation properties. On my legs I usually wear poly-cotton trousers, which dry quickly and, with the 'poly' for extra strength, tend to last longer than all-cotton trousers. The most comfortable walking trousers I have ever worn were made from Ventile by Snowsled Clothing (01453 839090). Ventile is a very fine weave of cotton, which is both windproof and has an almost silk-like feel. Snowsled also make a superb range of Ventile smocks and jackets. My shirts are always 100 per cent cotton. With a rucksack semi-permanently glued to the shirt, natural fibres are easier on the skin. I favour shirts with two breast pockets for carrying my compass and money. If possible, the shirt should have double shoulders, to cope with the wear of the rucksack straps.

For summer walking I usually wear Marks and Spencer wool/nylon mix ankle socks, which are durable and which dry overnight after being washed. For extra insulation in the winter, the 'Thor-Lo' brand, with their differentially-padded panels, are comfortable and warm (and expensive). A foot- trick of which I am rather proud is my practice of carrying a spare set of 'footbeds' (the insoles which fit into the floor of the boot). When my boots get wet, I start the next day with the spare, dry pair of footbeds, thus thwarting the misery of early-morning rising damp.

I always carry an 'emergency layer' such as a second fleece jacket or a sleeping bag (which, wrapped around the torso beneath a waterproof jacket, works like a duvet). I have an 'emergency rule' which is that one set of thermal underwear is kept inside my sleeping bag, which is kept inside a plastic bag, inside the rucksack. Under no circumstances are the sleeping bag or underwear allowed to get wet. This means that in a crisis I always have a complete set of warm, dry insulation.

The item I feel most particular about is my hat, which should have a brim to keep the sun (the ultra-violet is intense at higher altitudes) from the eyes and the back of the neck. French berets are virtually indestructible but cast shade on only one part of the head at a time. More suitable is the Basque beret, with its greater diameter. Best of all is the lightweight travelling trilby, which can be rolled up like a cornet when not in use. On the head, its generous brim works well as a cranial parasol. The best trilby is made by Herbert Johnson of New Bond Street, London. It should be noted that the trilby does not perform well in high wind. I always carry supplementary headwear, in the form of a very lightweight thermal balaclava. And my waterproof jacket (whether Ventile or Goretex) has an integral hood. Reducing heat loss from the head is one of the most efficient methods of maintaining overall body temperature. The other item essential for head protection is a pair of sunglasses. In mountains some walkers prefer the glasses which have leather side-pieces fitted, which cut out lateral glare. Walking on snow with unprotected eyes can cause 'snow-blindness', both painful and damaging to the eyes.

The only item of equipment that I duplicate is my compass. Without one I am lost, literally and philosophically. I use liquid-filled, Swedish-made 'Silva' compasses. The Type 3 model tucks into my breast pocket, tied with cord to the buttonhole. The much smaller Type 23 model, which weighs only 15 grams and is supplied in a modified form for the pilots' survival packs in the seats of Tornado aircraft, is kept in reserve, in my rucksack.

Without maps, long-distance walking can be erratic. Every popular mountain area in Western Europe is mapped at a scale of 1:50,000 or, even better, 1:25,000. No other series is comparable for accuracy or clarity to the Ordnance Survey, however, so Britons heading overseas must prepare for a lesser quality of cartography. The best source for walking maps in Britain is Stanfords, 12-14 Long Acre, London WC2E 9LP. For hiking in Eastern Europe, the best source is Fretytag & Berndt, Kohlmarkt 9, Vienna 1010, Austria and the Bundesamt fur Eich-und Vermessungswesen at Krotenthallergasse 3, Vienna 1080, who sell the old maps of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The sense of history imparted by these beautifully drawn maps compensates for the fact that most users will spend 90 per cent of the time completely lost. I relied on them for walking 3,000 kilometres through the Carpathians. They were invaluable.

There is an inverse relationship between the number of days you've been hiking, and the number of tent-pegs remaining to erect your nightly home. Pegs disappear in long grass, drop down rabbit holes, or get used as a tea-stirrer then left on a tree-stump. Peg loss can be reduced by reciting BBC-man Brian Hanrahan's famous Falklands quote ('I counted them all out; I counted them all back'), when inserting pegs in the evening and retrieving them next morning.

I've often noticed how that red-handled talisman, the Swiss Army knife, is more treasured than it is used. At the top of the Victorinox range of penknives is the 'Swiss Champ', whose 29 features (among them a hacksaw, a reamer and a ballpoint pen) would be useful for hikers who think that they might be called upon to construct a biplane using nothing but driftwood and the contents of their rucksack. I carry the smallest and lightest in the range, the two-bladed Pocket Pal. I use the larger blade for cutting food and the smaller blade for less hygienic roles such as emergency chiropody.

I would not go walking without an umbrella. Furled, it can be used for parrying dog- attacks or beating back briars. Driven spike first into the ground, it is handy for drying socks. Reversing the umbrella and holding the spike converts it into a harvesting tool for out-of-reach blackberries. In the open mode, it is both rain and snow shelter, a sun shade and - during exposed picnics - a handy wind-break. My favourite umbrella was obtained when I visited the 'Que Chova' ('What Rain!' in Galician) umbrella factory in Santiago de Compostela, one of the wettest places in Europe. The best mountaineering umbrellas are made by James Smith & Son (53 New Oxford Street, London): their hickory-shafted model is strong enough to serve as a walking stick, and unlike the metal-shafted models, does not act as a lightening conductor when strapped to a rucksack. A good mountaineering umbrella has 8 ribs, and it is fallacy to imagine that 10- and 16-rib umbrellas are tougher: the extra ribs create variable shrinkage in the umbrella's fabric, and thus encourage wear and tear.

After some experimentation, I have settled on the Parker 'Vector' fountain pen, which costs less than a round of beer and is available throughout Europe (on the Continent it is a favourite among French schoolchildren, an indication more of its durability than its writing quality). Such a pen is more suitable than a ballpoint, whose ink become treacly at low temperatures and leaks in the heat, while fancy fibre-tips are expensive and have to be thrown away once they have run dry - not a very green option. In sub-zero temperatures, the conventional ink in my fountain pen will thaw from frozen after a few minutes compression under an armpit. Ten spare Parker cartridges bunched in an elastic band lasted me about 1,000 kilometres of note-making and postcard writing. Uni-ball rollerball pens (by Mitsubishi Pencil Company) write well and are filled with waterproof ink.

Diet is not a facet of everyday life that many long-distance walkers are likely to be able to control to any great extent. You eat what you can find (I do not carry food from home, since part of the interest of travelling is in discovering the local food). But on extended walks, dietary deficiencies can lead to a lowering of the body's defences against bugs and a reduction of its capacity to heal wounds. During my 507-day hike across Europe I lived largely on bread and sardines, bread and pork fat, and bread and jam - the staples generally available in mountain villages. During the same period I ate 1,014 tablets of Vitamin B Complex, Vitamin C and zinc. I was never ill and wounds healed within 3 or 4 days, without the use of antiseptic.

I'll round off this fairly random checklist of my tips with a thought: the best way of finding out about long-distance walking is to start with a short walk and not to stop.