Planning · Catalonia
How the circle decides go or no-go on a doubtful forecast
Most of our bad days were not caused by bad weather. They were caused by a group of reasonable people not wanting to be the one who said the walk should not happen.
- Distance
- 16.8 km
- Moving time
- 6 h 4 min
- Total ascent
- 735 m
- Shape of day
- Full day
- Walked
- 13 Jun 2026
- Checked
- 30 Aug 2026
Waypoint 01
The Friday call, made once
We make one decision, at around nine on Friday evening, and we stick to it. Whoever proposed the route reads the forecast for the actual altitude and aspect of the walk rather than for the nearest town, posts a short message with the numbers, and states go, swap or cancel. Nobody is asked to vote on the weather. The alternative, which we tried for a year, is a thread that runs until midnight and produces a hungover compromise route that nobody wanted.
The message is deliberately boring: expected temperature range on the tops, wind speed, chance and timing of rain, freezing level in winter, and sunrise and sunset. Those six numbers decide almost everything. If the person writing the message is unsure, the default is swap rather than cancel, because there is nearly always a lower, more sheltered version of the day available within an hour of the city. The forest options in particular absorb a great deal of weather without becoming miserable.
Waypoint 02
What actually causes a cancellation
Rain on its own almost never cancels a walk. Rain plus wind plus an exposed ridge does. Our real triggers are quite specific and we have written them down so that nobody has to make a judgment call under social pressure. They are not clever rules; they are thresholds that were expensive to learn and are cheap to apply from a sofa on a Friday evening, which is exactly when a group is least inclined to think clearly about wind on an exposed ridge.
The value of a written threshold is that it removes the person from the decision. Saying the wind is above our number is easy. Saying I would rather not, when five other people have already arranged their Saturday, is hard. Every group we know that has had a genuinely frightening day had at least one member who was privately unhappy and said nothing. Writing the numbers down in advance means the awkward conversation has already happened, in the calm, weeks earlier.
- Sustained wind above roughly 50 km/h on an exposed route: swap to forest or valley
- Storms forecast before 15:00 in the mountains: cancel the high option outright
- Freezing level below the route with no winter equipment in the group: cancel
- Heat above 33 degrees on shadeless limestone: swap, regardless of distance
- Anyone in the group ill, injured or badly slept: the day gets shorter, not faster
Waypoint 03
The swap list does most of the work
Cancelling feels like failure, so we removed most of the reasons to do it. We keep a standing list of four or five short, low, sheltered, station-accessible routes that work in almost any conditions, and swapping to one of them is treated as a completely normal outcome rather than a disappointment. The group still meets, still walks, still ends up somewhere with a drink, and nobody has driven two hours to stand in cloud.
The list gets updated every spring. A route drops off if the waymarking has gone, if the approach has become unpleasant, or if we simply got bored of it. The point is that on Friday evening the alternative already exists and does not need designing. Decision fatigue at nine at night is the thing that pushes groups into going ahead with a plan they have already stopped believing in, and the cure is having the easy answer written down before anybody is tired enough to need it.
Waypoint 04
Turnaround is a separate decision
Going ahead on Saturday morning does not commit anyone to finishing the route. We set a turnaround time before we start walking, based on the last sensible train plus an hour of slack, and anyone in the group can call it at any point without explaining themselves. That last part matters more than the time does. A turnaround that requires a justification is a turnaround that gets delayed until it is no longer optional.
Afterwards we write two lines in the group notes: what the weather actually did, and whether the decision was right. Over four years that record has quietly corrected most of our instincts. We are more relaxed about rain than we were, considerably more cautious about wind and afternoon storms, and we no longer believe anybody who says the last section goes quickly. The notes also settle arguments, which is a smaller benefit but a real one.
Our figures, our day, our pace. Weather, waymarking and water availability change; carry a current map and a plan for turning back.