Before I lace a single boot, I read the hill the way you’d read a letter from someone you’re about to meet.
What the contours are telling you
Tight lines mean the ground will argue. A stream splitting early means the valley path floods. A ring contour with nothing around it is your friend in mist — one of the few things up there that can’t be mistaken for anything else.
In my navigation workshops we spend the first hour indoors, and people are always impatient. Then the cloud comes down on the afternoon walk and the kitchen table suddenly seems like the most useful place they’ve ever been.