Striding Out To Help Out

The Last Post

2008-05-07T10:10:00.007+01:00

Back to reality after a couple of relaxing days in the Lakes and the tedious drive home yesterday. My feet are mending and starting to forgive me for treating them so badly - I need them to be in tip-top condition for the strappy, high-heeled sandals I'm planning to wear to a wedding on Saturday so I'm trying to pamper them at every given opportunity!

I can't actually believe it's all over - already it seems a lifetime ago. No, that doesn't mean I'm thinking about doing another one, it just means that I'm having to concentrate slightly harder to remember all the way back to the beginning of last December when this madness started! Follow this link to a photo album of the most insane week of my life.

If anyone out there is thinking of doing a long distance trek my short, sharp advice is simply this - don't. If you're still determined, here's a few hints, tips and bits of advice from someone who learned the hard way: the most important thing of all is your boots, get some that fit well and support your feet; use (Leki) poles, they absorb some of the impact going through your knees and they are invaluable for keeping you upright on muddy paths, in streams and on steep slopes (unless you're like me and have a propensity for blundering over); either learn to read a map and use a compass or go with someone who can do those things and don't let them out of your sight; keep your wet weather gear handy even if the weatherman said it would be wall to wall sunshine; be safe and follow advice from people who are more experienced than you; always carry a basic first aid kit that contains lots of blister plasters and/or moleskin (you will also need scissors and an engineer to cut the correct shapes for you); don't carry all your stuff unless you absolutely have to, get it "Sherpa'd" from B&B to B&B, that way you're being much kinder to your body and you can have clean clothes and your own hairdryer every day; take your boots off and cool your feet en route, you'll get a couple of comfortable miles every time you do this.

If any of you fancy following my route, here's the places we stayed: Knowles Lodge, Blue Bell Inn, Swarthghyll Farm, George and Dragon, Bull Hotel, High Barn (Shaw End, Patton - no website) and Royal Oak.

It only leaves my list of thanks before this blog is done. First and foremost, all you blog readers. I'm glad you "came with me" and I suspect you enjoyed the trip more than I did! Many thanks to all my sponsors - that special needs centre will be a better place because of your generosity. To my Reet Grand Yorkshire Lad, whoever you are and wherever you are, thank you so much. To Dan, the other Dales Way walker, the very best of luck - get some early nights because if you're doing 16 miles a day, you will need them! To Jo Thoenes and the team at BBC Radio Oxford (95.2FM), thanks for letting me share my story with your listeners. To They Who Know - support teams don't get any better and all your advice, hospitality, to-ing and fro-ing and thoughtfulness will never be forgotten. Last but never least a thousand, heartfelt thanks right from the bottom of my boots to He Who Hauled Me Along, He Who Wiped My Tears And Fed Me Bounty Bars, He Who Is Truly Wondrous With Moleskin, He Who Plucked Me From The Mud More Than Once, He Who Gave Me Encouragement And Confidence, He Who Made It All Possible, He Who Is Much More Than I Deserve - my darling husband, David.

Seven Down!

2008-05-04T10:54:00.002+01:00

Done it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wall to wall sunshine for the last day and I finally hit my stride - the fourteen miles passed (almost) with ease. I suspect a huge contributing factor was that the female half of They Who Know had most of the weight from my backpack in the boot of her car so I didn't feel as though I had a house on my back.

The day would not have been complete without tears but they were tears of relief when I got to the bench "For Those Who Walk The Dales Way" one of which marks each end of the trek. Another couple of hundred yards saw us at the pub we're staying in, sitting in the shade drinking the chilled Champagne They Who Know produced from a cool box in the back of their car.

I'm finding it hard to separate and articulate all the things I'm feeling; there's elation mixed with relief, there's disbelief mixed with pride, there's gratitude for all the support mixed with something I can't identify but centring around being able to help the special needs people in Kodumela.

There's an enormous irony to all this in that "Kodumela" translates as "dig deep" or "hard work" so I feel I can lay claim to a new verb - in that I have been kodumeling! Man, have I ever had to dig deep and work hard over this last week!

I will upload some pictures and stuff when I get home so don't give up on the blog just yet. Right now I have to finish the superb hot chocolate I'm drinking and get out there to explore the shops of Bowness.

Six Down - One To Go

2008-05-02T20:34:00.002+01:00

Nearly there! Only one more day of this insanity to go - I cannot believe that what started as an idle thought six months ago has proved to be one of the most horrendous experiences of my life. No, not true - it is the most horrendous experience of my life!

We did about eleven miles today between Sedbergh and Shaw End and I only fell over once. Not sure how it happened - I was on my feet one second and flat on my backside the next. No real harm done, just another dent in my pride! My feet are seriously sore and He Who Does Geometrically Wondrous Things With Moleskin is doing a fine job in trying to keep me comfortable.

They Who Know are spending the night with us and the male half is walking the last day with us tomorrow. He's used to people (women) who like walking and are good at it so I'm not entirely sure how he'll cope with someone who needs to pee every five hundred yards, has a good cry at least twice a day and blunders over at the drop of a hat.

At one point today we had the Howgill Fells behind us and the heights of Lakeland in front of us so He Who Is Easily Pleased was in heaven and insisted on a prolonged photo shoot. I shifted my weight from one painful foot to the other, wishing I was anywhere but there.

Five Down - Two To Go

2008-05-01T15:27:00.003+01:00

A simple six miles today then the promise of clean clothes - yes, there is a launderette in Sedbergh! I am so sick of screwed up, damp, stinking clothes but I am even more sick of one bad hair day after another - I cannot wait to get my hands on some decent shampoo and my hairdryer.

I have blisters on my right foot after the hell that was traipsing over Cam Fell and Blea Moor yesterday so He Who Is An Excellent Engineer is in charge of cutting moleskin to just the right shape and size to protect my delicate feet.

About eleven miles tomorrow and fourteen on Saturday then absolutely sod all on Sunday! A boat on Windermere beckons, maybe a boat that serves lunch and maybe a boat that even serves cocktails!

In answer to all who ask "will you keep walking once you've finished the Dales Way?" the resounding answer is "NO. Not ever again. Not even if my life depends on it."

Four Down - Three To Go

2008-04-30T19:47:00.002+01:00

OK, whose bright idea was this?

I knew today would be tough, but this was hard beyond my worst nightmares. Fifteen miles that felt like forty and every single one of them hard going.

I am hot, I am tired, I ache from head to toe and I have more pain in my feet than I ever thought possible. No, that's not true, what I can feel in my feet goes way beyond pain.

I did manage to record an interview with BBC Radio Oxford which should have gone out on the Jo Thones show this afternoon, so if you get a chance, do the "listen again" thing. Fortunately, I did that before I started crying. I have shed bucket loads of tears today, not least for the tiny lamb stuck on a ledge beside a fast flowing river which we simply could not rescue.

My brother and sister-in-law bought me a pedicure for my birthday last week and if I had a pound for every time I've looked forward to that today, I would double my sponsorship!

Best bit of today - it's over.

Three Down - Four To Go

2008-04-29T17:19:00.000+01:00

Day three brought beautiful warm sunshine until we were about a mile from our accommodation then we had a colossal thunder storm complete with fierce lightning and pin sharp hail. Fortunately I had just had my boots off to bathe my feet in a fast flowing stream so they didn’t complain too loudly at the end of day sprint! I did cry though – it was terrifying out in the open with nowhere to hide. The truly stupid thing is that I’m afraid of thunder not lightning!

We’ve now done Ilkley to Appletreewick, Appletreewick to Kettlewell and Kettlewell to Swarthghyll Farm and it’s not too bad at all if you don’t count the sheer agony, the overwhelming weight of the backpack and the constant aerobic exercise which is about a hundred times harder than being on a treadmill in the gym.

The scenery is dramatic, high and unwelcoming, all around us but right beside us is the river Wharfe which is beautiful as it tumbles over rocks and weirs. The lambs are a delight, gambolling and frolicking and always running (or springing) back to Mum if we get too close.

Best bit of the day – a little black lamb sitting in a food trough.

Two Down - Five To Go

2008-04-29T09:10:00.002+01:00

It rained for most of the first half of day two and when it wasn't raining, it was chucking hail down! It eased up after lunch and stayed fine for most of the rest of the day. The rain, of course, makes for lots of mud - which I'm used to from all that training (and at least there isn't cow and horse poo all over the place up here), but when I fell off the steps cut into a dry stone wall, I got rather too up close and personal with the Yorkshire variety of liquid earth! I was covered head to foot but fortunately only wrenched my shoulder because I couldn't stop the weight of my pack pushing me downwards. Luckily I had my compact and lippy handy to repair the damage and we were soon (nervously) on our way.

We stopped for lunch in Grassington and it has to be said that these Yorkshire folk sure know how to run a tea shop. Our cuppa and teacake turned into hot chocolate with whipped cream, toasted cheese sandwich and a bowl of chips!

He Who Should Be Tucked Up In Bed With A Hot Water Bottle and Lemsip is poorly. He has man 'flu so we are both suffering..............! For three quarters of yesterday he also had a dodgy stomach which I blame on the copious amounts of local brew he sampled the night before.

Today we have about 12/13 miles to go but I'm told it's all flat - strange because as far as I can see, Yorkshire doesn't do flat.

Best bit of yesterday - lambs that had just discovered their legs are springy!

One Down - Six To Go

2008-04-28T08:45:00.003+01:00

Well that was fun. Trudging about in teeming rain with a pack the size of a small shed on my back. The view would have been fantastic if we could see it but the cloud was so low it looked like the end of the world. The ice cream at Bolton Abbey and cuppa half an hour later feature as the very best bits.

He Who Walks With A Limp and the male half of They Who Know both have cranky hips and unfortunately it's the right side for both of them so I couldn't even make them into a decent three-legged team!

The female half of They Who Know met us at our B&B then we all had dinner at the local pub before They went back home and we went to bed - absolutely shattered and sooooooo looking forward to more of the same!

And They're Off!!!!!!

2008-04-27T08:04:00.003+01:00

I packed my bag and in it I put just enough meagre bits and pieces to survive a week without sinking too far beyonds the depths of decency. I unpacked my bag and started again because I could barely pick it up! I have now sunk way beyond the depths of decency and hope I don't meet anyone I know along the way.

This is it - the moment all those miles of training have been for. We're about to leave for the start of the longest walk in the world and wouldn't you know it - it's raining!

Thanks for the sponsorship and thanks for all the messages of support - it's an enormous help to know that you're all "coming with me". I'll try to post at the end of each day but I can't guarantee it - might not have internet access/might not have energy! I will be recording an interview for Radio Oxford on Wednesday morning and that should go out after 1pm that afternoon so tune in if you can.

All that's left to say is LET'S GET THIS SHOW ON THE ROAD.

Hang on a sec, I've forgotten my lippy............................

To Shop Or Not To Shop......

2008-04-21T18:47:00.000+01:00

They Who Know declared “training over” after my 16 and 13 miles, complete with blisters, last weekend and even encouraged me to go shopping instead of walking this weekend! Unfortunately, I had a mountain of work to get through before taking the week off so I sat in front of my computer the whole time trying to get words and pictures do the things I wanted them to do and as dull as that was, at no time did I think “I’d rather be walking”………….

I have, however, noticed that when I’m driving about, I spot footpath signs a mile off and always look to see if (a) anyone is on the path and (b) the state of it (dry/muddy/overgrown). I had no idea there were so many public paths in this area and I never really realised how pretty it is round here – the countryside is green, well wooded, gently rolling and dotted with beautiful red brick farm houses and cottages. There are of course some absolute eyesores, then there’s all that poo but all in all it’s not bad. A few weekends ago an article in one of the papers declared Buckinghamshire the best place in the country to live and now that I’ve walked every square inch of it, I’m inclined to agree.

Next Saturday will see us heading for the North Country to spend the night with They Who Know before we start the real walk on Sunday. I can’t believe it’s so close and every now and then my heart skips a beat and I have a moment of panic thinking “I can’t do this” and I have to go through the ritual of reminding myself that I will have all day to cover the distances between B&Bs, I will be able to take a “lunch break” instead of leaning against a fence post for ten minutes and I won’t have to Hoover or cook when I get to where I’m going!

I try to picture taking a rest beside a fast running stream, surrounded by beautiful scenery, breathing in clean, fresh air but that image is always spoiled by the thought that sitting on the ground is always a bit iffy. There be creepies and there be crawlies down there and I like neither…………..

Time Is Running Out

2008-04-13T21:26:00.005+01:00

Weekend statistics:
16.5 mile walks – 1
13 mile walks – 1
Hot pursuits by inquisitive cows – 2
Bounty ice lollies – 2
Drenchings – 1
Blisters – 4
Bus rides – 1
Train rides – 1
Hills summited – 6
Assaults with deadly weapon – 2
Sunburnt necks – 1

Saturday morning saw He Who Gets Up With The Lark bringing me tea at 6.20. Twenty minutes after six in the morning. On a Saturday. Just so we could “get an early start” on what would be our second longest walk together – the longest was walking home from High Wycombe back in the depths of winter. Do you remember that one? I’ll never forget it – mostly because it almost killed me.

I didn’t actually drag myself out of bed until gone 7 so ended up rushing about like a looney to catch the 8.24 bus to Wheatley where we started the trek across the countryside to Holton, Bernwood Forests, Oakley, Brill, Dorton, Ashendon, Nether Winchendon, Cuddington and home. This epic trudge took in four hills, the highest point being 184m or 603 feet – dizzying stuff! At one point I was trying to emphasise a point to He Who Takes A Lot Of Persuasion by jabbing the spikes of my poles into the ground in front of me; it wasn’t until he yelled out and started hopping that I realised I had stabbed him in the top of his right foot. On it’s own, that would have been bad enough but it happened only about seven minutes after I had mis-timed an effort to bash his pole with my pole and had accidentally smashed him on the knee instead.

The last 3 or 4 miles were tough – very tough. We were both flagging and had to make monumental efforts to get one foot in front of the other enough times to get us home. We finally crawled up our drive at about 6.30pm and had to be at a friend’s house for dinner at 7pm. Sometimes being notorious for being late for everything comes in handy!

As I was ready to leave the house at about 10.30 Sunday morning, He Who Needs His Beauty Sleep appeared looking tousled and bleary eyed. It’s rare for him to sleep late so yesterday’s exertions must have all but knackered him. I will admit to not feeling particularly energetic or enthusiastic but with only two weeks to the Big Event, I need all the training I can get. I set off to do the same walk we did last Sunday and what a difference a week makes – last week everything was blanketed with snow and this week it was all bathed in sunshine.

The 13 miles passed pretty uneventfully but the last two were agony and I am now sporting sore heels (with blisters), tender little toes (one with blister, one without) and all sorts of random aches and pains. I could have done without the hail storm which drenched me to the skin before I had time to get my jacket on and I certainly could have done without the cheery Frenchman who was on the latter stages of the same route with a group of friends.

At one passing he said “Every time you see us, we are eating, no?” and I replied in cheerful fashion then at a later passing I said “Aha, you are not eating this time” as my brain was screaming “Every time you see me, I have my knickers round my ankles because I think no one can see me peeing in this bush!”

I did manage a first this weekend – I pee’d without taking my back pack off! A greater feat than you might imagine given the possible consequences of over balancing (think tortoise stuck on its shell with legs waving in the air………………..!!)

Move Over Sir Ranulph

2008-04-07T11:31:00.003+01:00

I don’t know why there’s so much fuss about being out and about in artic conditions. We got up to deep snow yesterday and after establishing that He Who Has A Screw Loose wasn’t joking about going walking, we did 13 miles without even considering a team of huskies or a sled to drag our stuff along.

By “deep” I mean about 3 inches and whilst that may not be deep by some standards, it’s the most snow we’ve had for a couple of years. We trudged through several blinding blizzards – granted it was the wind blowing snow off the trees but it was cold and blinding nonetheless, and I had to wear sunglasses because the snow was literally dazzling.

He Who Is The Great Provider found shelter for us to eat our lunch and managed to pick the coldest spot of the whole day. We unloaded our backpacks, opened our sandwiches and poured the hot soup after making ourselves comfortable in an empty barn, before realising that the minus 50º wind was whipping round the corner straight on to us. Needless to say, lunch was a pretty quick affair.

We walked from home to Kingsey, Towersey, Henton, Chinnor and Princes Risborough then caught a train back to Haddenham where we had to walk the hardest mile of all – from the station to our house. Once home, I did a swift tidy, whizzed round with the vacuum cleaner and had the quickest shower in history because we had people coming over and the house was a mess. Whilst doing all this I was amazed and thrilled to realise that I was actually able to do it – to move at all, I usually get home and collapse into an immobile heap on the sofa and only get up again to go to bed. Not only that, but I felt we’d only walked around ten miles so finding that we’d done 13 made me calculate that my “eight mile ache” probably didn’t start until about ten miles. Progress indeed.

Another realisation came earlier in the day, whilst walking across a field with a view across most of Buckinghamshire to my left, trees on a snowy ridge to the right, brilliant blue sky with fluffy white clouds above and frozen cow pats under my boots – do I like walking? No, not particularly – a huge advance on the “no, I absolutely hate it” response from three months ago!

Walking - what is it good for?

2008-03-31T16:21:00.003+01:00

I started writing this on Saturday evening after my walk from Stokenchurch to Princes Risborough and, had I finished it, you would have known all about how rough, wet and windy it was but how well I did to read the map and find my way to the station to get a train home. I didn’t finish writing it because there was a lot going on here, what with Dad staying and all, so I cheerfully thought you would be doubly impressed after my Sunday walk from Great Missenden to Princes Risborough when you read all about how great I am at getting from A to B with only a map and my Leki poles for company.

As it turns out you would have been even less impressed than I was. I got hopelessly lost and ended up miles from where I thought I was. I cannot fathom how I managed it in the first place and why I didn’t realise I was going the wrong way for so long is totally beyond me – my only excuse is that I have never claimed to have any sense of direction whatsoever. I am clearly not cut out for life outside a shopping mall where neat little signs point the way to the next major department store, coffee shop or loo and if you take a wrong turn it doesn’t matter because there’s always a major department store, coffee shop or loo whichever direction you take.

So, walking, what is it good for? Well, I have come to realise it is very good for three things – the first two I discovered early on and the third I came across only yesterday. Firstly, plodding along (misreading the map) is great for clearing the mind; it is possible to not think about anything else at all except for putting one foot in front of the other – not stepping in the astonishing variety of poo becomes instinctive so mental effort is not required. The second thing is the exact opposite of the first in that you can re-design your kitchen, deliver an interesting, witty and topical speech or decide how to tackle telling your best friend she has BO as you trudge along (still misreading the map). The obvious point to make here is that I misread the map even when I’m concentrating on it and only it.

The third thing walking is good for is inventing games and I invented an absolute cracker yesterday. After dodging a particularly impressive pile of horse poo, I could still smell it half a mile later and realised I had a sizeable nugget of it spiked on my Leki pole. Can you see where this is going? Yes, you’ve got it – Flung Dung (or Flick The S**t). I’m a bit of a girl when it comes to throwing things in that I simply can’t do it (any more than I can read maps) but with aid of the pole, I managed a respectable distance and caught myself looking around to see if anyone had (a) seen me do it or (b) heard me laugh out loud as it splashed into a puddle roughly the size of Windermere.

The most enjoyable part of yesterday was the huge ice cream I bought from the van at the bottom of Coombe Hill – where I wasn’t supposed to be………………………!!

Happy Easter!

2008-03-23T15:35:00.007Z

Good Friday was indeed a good Friday. Even though the weather was slightly cooler than one might expect at Easter, I laced on my boots and jumped in the back of the Land Rover to be taken to Wendover where He Who Keeps Finding Things To Do In The Shed dropped me so I could walk to Princes Risborough and catch a train the rest of the way home.

I did something I have always vowed and declared I would never do. Not ever. Not for all the tea in China. Not in a million years. Not as long as I live and breathe. I carried a map in a plastic pouch with a cord round my neck! I have to admit it is very convenient when you’re in unknown territory but nonetheless I felt like a complete dork – it was bad enough just walking along but when the wind lifted it and it smacked me straight in the face, I was mighty glad there were only crows and kites watching!

For all its convenience, I didn’t do a particularly good job of reading the map and reached a road which really shouldn’t have been there! It took me a while to work out where I was and it was only catching sight of part of a beautiful red brick house bathed in sunshine that confirmed my position on the map. Chequers. As I trudged passed the security cameras I considered fainting; I thought that maybe the guards would come to my rescue and carry me inside for a nice hot cuppa. Then again, I thought they might arrest me on suspicion of something suspicious and throw me in a cold, dark cell so I just kept walking.

I got to Risborough by a more circuitous route than I had intended and despite the artic wind that only twenty four hours earlier had been ruffling the fur of polar bears, I felt energetic enough to walk home so I headed for the Phoenix Trail and found a stream where once there had been a road. Some people were having a whale of a time riding through it and making huge waves on their bikes but they were kind enough to stop for long enough for me to wade through without too much of a soaking.

Mother Nature wasn’t quite so considerate though, half an hour later I had blue sky and bright sunshine to my left and gathering dark clouds to my right so I knew it might rain but it was a casual glance over my shoulder that took my breath away – a complete, dazzling rainbow set against an almost black sky. It was stunningly beautiful for a very short time then it faded and gave way to horizontal hail which lasted ages, laid everywhere like snow and cut visibility to about six feet. The hail finally turned to rain and it just poured relentlessly but at least it was blowing across me and not straight into my face – or my map.

I could see water laying in the fields either side of me so I knew walking all the way home might end up as swimming all the way home and, apart from that, it was very gloomy because of the storm clouds which meant getting dark earlier than expected so I wimped out and called He Who Knows How To Please. Ten minutes later he collected me from the bus shelter in Towersey where I sat like a bedraggled hobo surrounded by soaking backpack, muddy poles and slightly soggy map pouch. I'd walked just under twelve miles so not walking the last two or three miles home isn't so very bad really.

Hair And Safety

2008-03-16T22:48:00.003Z

I’m not a morning person at the best of times so having to make big decisions before I get up is like asking me to choose between Bounty and Flake – it’s the perfect recipe for a very long wait. That’s how I came to be laying in bed this morning, listening to the rain slamming into the window on the wings of a force ten gale and wondering whether going for a walk would be an entirely sensible thing to do. It took about forty five minutes, two cups of tea, a consultation with He Who Is Far Too Cheerful In The Morning and the sight of our bird table being blown round the garden like a matchstick to decide not to go. We had planned to walk in the woods on the hills where it might not have been so wet underfoot but thought it might end up being us getting blown around so chose safety over fitness and made another cup of tea.

The whole weekend has been a bit of a washout really because I hummed and harred about when to walk on Friday and in the end left it too late. It was lovely early on so I should have put my boots on and gone first thing but I had work to do so I gave that the priority and ended up regretting it when it started raining just after lunch time. No contest on Saturday because the rugby was on.

Yes, I know I’ll have to walk no matter what the weather when it comes to the actual Dales Way walk, but this isn’t the actual Dales Way walk………………………

It may have been a washout as far as walking is concerned but the weekend hasn’t been totally wasted as I managed to get my hair coloured this morning. He Who Has Hidden Talents very bravely slipped into his second career as colour technician and got busy with the L’Oreal (because I’m worth it). He then swapped the tinting brush for hammer and nails and went off to do what men do in sheds. No, I don’t know what that is either.

From Start To Party

2008-03-11T21:53:00.001Z

Going.......Going......Gone!

2008-03-09T20:28:00.009Z

A weekend for firsts! Being allowed out with just a map for company on Friday and taking a nasty tumble on a wet, slippery style today. It happened in a flash – stepping over it one moment and in a painful heap the next. He Who Proves The Age Of Chivalry Is Not Dead took control and hoisted my backpack off whilst trying to stay calm in the face thoughts centring around “Oh my God, she’s broken her back.” As it turned out there was no serious injury, thank goodness, but the shock was enormous – I felt shaky for ages afterwards and I now have a fabulous bruise on my arm.

We did almost 12 miles and only got one soaking, and that was just as we sat down for lunch. Fortunately I like soggy corned beef sandwiches and a dissolving cereal bar stuck to its wrapper is a particular favourite. The rain came out of nowhere and was gone just as quickly leaving bright sunshine which was really warm in sheltered places but the wind was surprisingly fierce out in the open so my face is now kind of glowing from wind-burn.

A couple of muddy fields proved hard going even though the ground is nowhere near as wet as it was a few weeks ago. The mud is “sticky” so at the end of one field I had a perfect mould of my boots to step out of; the trouble is it's heavy and feels like concrete blocks round your ankles.

We played Pied Piper to about five hundred sheep. They are the oddest creatures, as soon as you set foot in their field they all run away then about half way across the field you look over your shoulder and they’re silently following you – it’s like that children’s game called Statues where the group have to be absolutely still when the leader turns to look at them. The sheep stop dead in their tracks the moment you turn round then creep along behind you when you get going again. As soon as you’re out of their field, they all bleat and baa as if to say “well that’s scared them off.”

We came across a group of the cutest cows and they were keen to follow us too; a few fields later we passed a huge black bull who, thankfully, only bothered to spare us a disinterested glance before going back to eating grass.

Growing Up At Last!

2008-03-07T20:56:00.008Z

A true milestone day today – I was let out on proper paths all by myself! A few weeks ago I walked along the Phoenix Trail on my own, but that doesn’t really count because it’s a disused railway, so even I would be hard pushed to get lost on it and last week I walked to Long Crendon on my own but we had done the same path the week before so I can’t really count that as much of an achievement either. Today, however, is my coming of age as a walker – 10.8 miles in sunshine with a chilly breeze in sole charge of the map!

I started by walking to Long Crendon (again) then went off into previously unknown territory passed Notley Abbey on to Chearsley, Nether Winchendon, Cuddington and home. I only missed one way marker and ended up doing a lap of a field with hundreds of sheep in it. They all started bleating and baa-ing which set off their cousins in the next field so by the time I got back to the gate there were about eight thousand sheep letting me know what they thought – I could imagine them saying “Ha ha, stupid humanoid – and they say sheep are thick!” By way of reply, I was thinking “well at least I look good in something more than mint sauce or filo pastry.”

Other than that and finding the intact skeleton of a small animal that had been picked clean by whichever creatures eat raw meat off the bone, nothing much of real note happened. I’m not complaining mind, more than once thoughts about not returning home for whatever reason crossed my mind – no one would have had the faintest clue where to look for me, always assuming they wanted to look for me at all!

I read the information board at Notley Abbey (click on pic to the right to read if you're interested) and felt a pang of sympathy for the long-gone monks whose days began with matins at 2am and in getting over a style somewhere along the way I encountered yet another type of poo. Bird poo. Big bird poo. Fresh. Right where I put my hand to pull myself up. No, I wasn’t wearing gloves.

An Uphill Struggle

2008-02-29T20:49:00.004Z

Apologies, Dear Readers

2008-02-26T10:39:00.010Z

Posted by They Who Know on February 23rd:
13 DAYS WITHOUT AN UPDATE, EITHER YOU'RE STUCK IN COW POO, FAME HAS GONE TO YOUR HEAD OR, MUCH MORE LIKELY, YOU ARE CHOOSING A DALES WAY OUTFIT WITH MATCHING LIPSTICK AND ACCESSORIES (WHICH YOU DON'T NEED). SOME OF THE DALES FARMERS HAVE NEVER BEEN OUT OF THE DALE AND NEVER SEEN A PRETTY WOMAN - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! KEEP UP THE TRAINING - 64 DAYS TO GO !!!!!!!!!!

What can I say? If They are thinking in terms of matching lippy and accessories, they're clearly coming round to my way of thinking and I'll take the pretty woman bit as a compliment, albeit a backhanded one!

Seriously though, I must apologise for the lack of updates. We had a weekend (16/17 Feb) off from walking to catch up with some jobs around the house and whilst I started an update to tell you that, I never did get to finish it. In my defence, I was working in a client's office most of last week so didn't have as much opportunity to do that sort of thing as I do working from home. Anyway, normal service has been resumed now and I will try not to leave gaps in future!

Ticking Off The Miles

2008-02-24T18:38:00.005Z

PC Whippersnapper dropped us at Aylesbury Golf Club on his way to play football this morning so we were striding out at exactly 10am. As yesterday, we walked part of the way by the river and it was dry and solid underfoot apart from one twenty yard stretch where there was more mud than everywhere else on the planet put together. Naturally, He Who Walks On Water floated across while I sank up to my knees.

Within the first mile or so we passed Hartwell House which brought us sweet memories because that’s where we spent our wedding night just over eight years ago. Snow laid three inches thick at that time so it looked very different today with buds bursting from the trees, daffodils and snow drops on the ground and the sun trying hard to break through the grey clouds.

We rattled off almost nine miles in about three and a half hours without too much trouble but it was very easy walking – quite flat and, as I said, solid under foot. I find it incredibly hard to walk on metalled pathways after miles of soft ground, my feet and knees complain immediately and I have an almighty job not to whinge about it. I don’t whinge of course, that’s not allowed, so when He Who Is The Embodiment Of Kindness asks if I’m ok, I always say I’m fine but I swear like a trooper in my head!

I was afraid that after not wearing my boots for a couple of weeks the memory foam system in them would have forgotten who I am but they clearly have a far better memory than me because remembered by feet very well and felt fine with no chafing at all. At one point I almost snagged my lightweight Paramo Fuera Peak Windproof Jacket, made from Nikwax Windproof, which was strapped to my backpack, on a barbed wire fence but He Who Saves The Day came to my rescue and untangled it; however He did show his penchant for living dangerously by referring to it as a plastic coat.

Business As Usual

2008-02-23T21:16:00.003Z

After having last weekend off from walking it was business as usual today. We took the bus to Tiddington (banana at the bus stop) and walked home via Shabbington (sandwich stop), Thame and Long Crendon (cup of tea stop). Just over nine miles in five hours (including stops) and the walking was easy but now my feet, knees and hips have seized up completely. To make matters worse, the wind was quite rough and has made my head ache. The good bit is that we were home in time to watch the rugby!

He Who Plans Our Routes wanted to walk by the river Thame but was conscious that we might drown given that surrounding fields had been under several feet of water a couple of weeks ago. He knows how much I hate having to cover the same ground twice so was clearly trying to avoid being spit roasted on my Leki pole because he sensibly and patiently explained that if the ground was too wet we would have to retrace our steps and take a higher route. We were both very surprised, and He Who Likes Living Dangerously was visibly relieved, to find solid, dry ground all the way.

We got home to find PC Whippersnapper had returned after his first week of police training. It was great to see him and hear what he had been up to but he needn’t think that threatening me with arrest is going to make me do his laundry.

I need to take my aching head and body to bed because I think He Who Is A Glutton For Punishment is planning our route for tomorrow!

What A Difference A Day Makes

2008-02-10T22:09:00.000Z

Thursday was my idea of heaven – a spa day at Champneys which began with a facial, then a back, shoulder and neck massage, next was manicure and pedicure and finally make-up. On top of that was morning tea, lunch, afternoon hot choc and shopping opportunities in their two shops (one for clothes and accessories the other for cosmetics and skin care). What more could a girl possibly want? Well OK, George Clooney doing the massage wouldn’t go amiss.

I like girly things, I like lotions and potions that smell divine and make my skin feel like silk, I like my finger nails and toes nails to colour match, I like being pampered and made to feel special. My thanks go to The Cheerleader for illustrating the importance of all this so beautifully. He sent me this:
Chanel was walking down the street when she was accosted by a particularly dirty and shabby-looking homeless woman who asked her for money for food. She took out her wallet, drew out ten pounds and asked, 'If I give you this money, will you buy wine with it instead of dinner?'
'No, I had to stop drinking years ago', the homeless person replied.
'Will you use it to go shopping instead of buying food?' asked Chanel.
'No, I don't waste time shopping,' the homeless woman said. 'I need to spend all my time trying to stay alive.'
'Will you spend this on a beauty salon instead of food?' asked Chanel.
'Are you nuts?' replied the homeless woman. 'I haven't had my hair done in 20 years!'
‘Well,' Chanel said, 'I'm not going to give you the money, instead you can come out for dinner with myself and my husband this evening.'
The homeless woman was shocked and asked. 'Won't your husband be furious with you for doing that? I know I'm dirty and I probably smell pretty disgusting.'
Chanel said, 'That's okay. It's important for him to see what a woman looks like after she has given up shopping, hair appointments and wine.'

Friday was back to earth with a bump as He Who Must Be Obeyed had planned the route for our afternoon trudge. We did six miles starting and ending at Ivinghoe Beacon and going through the Ashridge estate. It was a beautiful, sunny afternoon but again the wind was cold which, I have to say, was quite welcome because my internal central heating seems to have gone haywire at the moment! The hot flushes combined with the sweatiness caused by the backpack produces a particularly enjoyable experience in that I don’t actually cool down after each flush, I just get hotter and hotter as the hours, and the flushes, drag by.

I had specifically asked to go to Ashridge and I had specifically asked to avoid steep ascents and descents but I’m not sure where He Who Narrowly Escaped Being Strangled learned his English because the very last part of the walk was a vertical ascent of the Beacon itself. He saved himself just in time by finding a gentler path round the side of the hill for me while he made for the top via the shortest possible route.

Saturday dawned sunny and quite warm so off we went with the intention of taking a circuitous route to Princes Risborough station and getting a train home. We’d walked about a mile when I began to overheat so an early stop saw the first of several changes of clothes. I shed my jacket first, about three miles later we were both too warm so off came more clothes – I swapped my long sleeved top for the short sleeved one being discarded by He Who Strips In Public, (at that point I didn’t know he had worn it on Friday and slept in it Friday night), then after another three or four miles, he whipped his trousers off to reveal the shorts he was wearing underneath, being slightly more modest I just opened the vent zips on my trousers and made do with a bit of cool air circulation.

The ground was still very wet making the going incredibly tough in places and every time I hear the squelching noise of quagmire sucking at my boots I’m reminded of being a child and playing on a building site where we had been expressly forbidden to go when my welly got stuck in a knee deep boggy puddle so the next step I took resulted in my white sock becoming a stinking black sock leaving me with the challenge of explaining how it had all happened to my mum.

We did ten miles including walking home from the station so all in all I feel I’m not doing too badly but I’m just not sure how I’m supposed to do it every day for a week. They Who Know have advised tackling the Dales Way over seven days even though some people can run it in less than ten hours – I’ll be doing that when I’m reincarnated as a cheetah.

Blood, Sweat and Tears

2008-02-04T18:07:00.000Z

Well, no blood actually but plenty of sweat and yes, tears too. In the immortal words of Meatloaf, Two Out Of Three Ain’t Bad!

I can knock off 5/6/7 mile walks with ease now so our Friday afternoon stroll in the hills around Hampden and Prestwood was unremarkable in many ways. The highlights for me are always the snack stops and the friendly animals we meet en route.

He Who Has The Memory Of A Goldfish still keeps trying to show and tell me where we’ve been and where we’re going and he only manages to remember that I really don’t care for about 8 seconds then he’s off again “…we’re going up this hill and long that path blah blah blah” by then of course, I’m half a mile ahead of him.

I was almost afraid to tempt fate and say that my boots were bordering on comfortable but towards the end of the walk, I mentioned it to Himself, fully expecting my feet to erupt in agonising blisters because I had dared to say it out loud but you know what, no blisters, no chafing round the top of my ankle and no pinched toes. I do believe my boots are going to be comfortable!

Sunday’s effort was my first attempt at one of my initial training goals – to walk home from High Wycombe. We caught the 8.37am train and were striding homeward by 9 o’clock. In no time flat I was in a bit of a tizz because I was too hot with my coat on and the sun on my back so I called a stop and began the marathon kafuffle that you always have to go through when you want something out of a backpack.

That’s what I really hate about all this – you can’t just rummage about in a chic little handbag (or even a chic suitcase sized bag) and find what you want in less that thirty seconds, oh no, you have to heave a bag the size of a small bungalow off your back, unpack the whole thing because what you are looking for is always at the bottom, try to get everything back in the bag before it either gets soaking wet or blows away then swing it back on to your back, invariably concussing several previously unnoticed small children in the process, and do up all the straps and catches before remembering you need some clean tissues for your constantly running nose and they’re at the bottom of your bag............................

Anyway, the fact that I was hot and bothered and I’d had to go through the whole bag thing made me slightly irritable so not being able to get my jacket through the lacing on the top of the pack just made everything so much worse. I didn’t have a tantrum as such, it was more a tantette – I threw my jacket on the ground and said a great big swear word; He Who Knows When To Keep Quiet started to look quite worried and I could see him thinking that this was going to be a long day because we’d been going less than an hour at this point.

We had a quick snack stop about 11.30am and set off again with no problem but it was harder to get going again after the next stop a couple of hours later. It doesn’t take long for joints this old to start seizing up and Himself looked like he’d got a wooden leg because it took him a mile and half to be able to bend his knee! It got really hard when we had to walk on the Phoenix Trail between Princes Risborough and Towersey because it’s a metalled pathway which is incredibly hard on your feet. Stupidly we stopped for a rest and that’s when the tears happened, the first lot of tears that is. The Last Boy Scout Who Is Always Prepared produced a Bounty bar and magically the tears stopped but neither of us could walk without hobbling and limping when we started again – fortunately at that point we didn’t know the agony that was to come or we might still be sitting there.

Following the Ordnance Survey map that He Who Leads The Way never leaves home without, we left the Phoenix Trail and headed for a farm on the edge of Towersey and the footpath that would take us home. Instead of the way markers pointing out the path we found signs saying “private keep out”, “no public right of way” etc. Ignoring these completely, we waded through ninety four tons of cow poo and across the field shown on the map only to find, well that’s the agonising point, we didn’t find the stile or gate to give us access to the path. We walked round the field, waded back through ninety two tons of cow poo (the other two tons were stuck to my boots) to get into the field next door and still there was no way out. We had no choice but to go all the way back to the road and into Towersey itself where The Font Of All Knowledge could find another path home. That’s where the next lot of tears happened – my feet and knees hurt so much I didn’t know how to keep going and I was crushed to think I was going to fail the first real goal of the whole exercise. I could see He Who Is Calm Under Fire mentally working through the options – friendly stranger with car, sober offspring with car, air ambulance………… In the end he settled for hugs, confidence boosting encouragement and slowing the pace to hardly moving.

We came across another field where access to the gate and stile had been obstructed by electrified wires so we had to get our back packs off and clamber over two metal, railing type fences – just what we needed when our bodies were stiff with fatigue. We almost crawled the rest of the way in fading light but at least on familiar ground with home in sight.

I don’t know how we did it, but we did it – all 18¾, yes, that’s eighteen and three quarter, miles of it. We got home about 6pm in the pitch dark and I have never felt so relieved in my life. He Who Is More Than I Deserve managed to get down on all fours and take my boots off for me then I hobbled into the house and collapsed on the sofa where I sat in the dark because I just couldn’t walk as far as the light switch.

Do I like walking? No, I most certainly do not.

Biting Off More Than I Can Chew

2008-01-26T21:23:00.000Z

In answer to yesterday’s question, is it possible that I will actually be able to do the Dales Way? I have to say I wouldn’t bet on it after today’s performance.

The first two miles from the car park in the centre of Wendover to Coombe Hill were ok, even though they forgot to install the Stannah stair lifts when they cut steps into the hillside, but then came a near vertical descent which caused a great deal of discomfort to my knees and made the next nine miles almost unbearable.

I found it really tough, in fact at one point I did one of the things I do best, I cried! Only a little bit but tears nonetheless – I felt so totally useless because I could barely drag one foot in front of the other. My energy level was low and the weather didn’t help – gloriously sunny and warm in sheltered places but a wind chill of minus twenty in the open. It was too ambitious on our first attempt at walking two days back to back and that is entirely my fault because I told He Who Plans Routes to make it long and make it tough which clearly shows that my boots are bigger than my brain.

We revised our plan and cut a couple of miles off the route, found a fallen tree to sit on then He Who Is In Charge Of Emergency Supplies did one of the things he does best and produced a Bounty bar to cheer me up – a taste of paradise in a God forsaken wilderness of trees, mud and endless hills.

I am now so tired I could sleep standing up and every joint below my waist hurts. Tomorrow I am going to help some friends plan their wedding reception and if I so much as see a walking boot, I will not be responsible for my actions.