When you see someone putting on his big boots, you can be pretty sure an adventure is about to happen.” Sage words uttered not, as you might imagine, by Sir Ranulph Fiennes or George Mallory, but Winnie the Pooh. Even if, like AA Milne’s rotund bear (and me for that matter), you find solo trekking to the pole a touch too adventurous, big boots are still of great importance to us shooting types.
Our sport takes us off-piste, into the realms of knee-high heather and peat hags, marshy bog or impenetrable scrub. Wellingtons might keep your feet dry yet few, if any, provide the ankle support required for crossing truly rugged country. Meanwhile, most lace-ups are just too short; the moment you step in anything deeper than a puddle, you find your socks are soaked and cold, wet feet is
