Christmas 2012: Rambling books - Telegraph Ironically, country ramblers who wish to escape congested city life are often faced with the irritation of other people pompously kitted out in high-visibility "Pertex microlight fabrics" or "Terra Thermic Pants," the slogans a kind of anti-nature poetry. And McKay admits to a hankering for non-rustle trousers: "There are few things more aggravating on a perfectly quiet hill than the noise of one's own legs, encased in synthetic fibres, fissling like crisp packets." It is the disturbance from the nearby A303 that spoils McKay's experience of Stonehenge. Since 1978, the stones have been fenced off from hippies trying to re-enact Druidic rites. Hugh Thomson, a travel writer best known for walking through Inca-land, provides a bold solution to getting near the monument in The Green Road into the Trees (Preface, £18.99). He simply puts on a tie and carries a clipboard knowing that no one will challenge him. Dan Kieran's The Idle Traveller: the Art of Slow Travel (AA, £12.99) quotes William Hazlitt on the nourishment walking can bring to both body and mind: "Give me the clear blue sky above my head, and the green turf beneath my feet, a winding road before me and a three hours" march to dinner - and then to thinking!" Kieran recognises that one of the pleasures of a hard day's yomping is the roaring fire and hot drink at the end. True idleness needs to be earned. No one could accuse the 49-year-old poet Simon Armitage of laziness. In 2010, he decided to walk the 256-mile Pennine Way in 19 days. Being a contrary fellow, he did the route backwards from Kirk Yetholm in Scotland to Edale in the Peak District. The journey takes him towards his village, hence the title of the highly entertaining Walking Home: Travels with a Troubadour on the Pennine Way (Faber, £16.99). Taking no money with him, Armitage relies on the kindness of strangers - mostly pre-arranged kindness, admittedly - and daily poetry readings to earn his keep. His mordant humour keeps him going on what is often a real slog in terrible weather. It takes the hero of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight - which Armitage has translated - only three verses to equip himself for his travels in Dark Ages Britain. "It takes me the best part of an hour to slap on emollients, tighten straps and replenish supplies," writes Armitage. He keeps the flights of fancy to a minimum. After a few days away from his wife, he admits to "admiring the engorged udders on a very large cow" - not something you imagine Robert Macfarlane doing. While the author of The Old Ways is desperate to kick off his walking boots and feel the peat between his toes, Armitage is more worried about sheep droppings and keeps his boots firmly laced. Winningly, he thinks Kendal Mint Cake is inedible. Walking with friends is as much about jokes in the morning and exhaustion by the evening as having a metaphysical experience. Yet there is something about traipsing in the country that appeals to our instinct for exploration. The world makes sense by foot in a way it does not in a train or car. Reading these books in a warm flat made me want to don some boots and follow in the footsteps of these authors who - in different ways - have marked the paths with their presence.