Pulling back the foil lid of my left contact lens this morning, sent a squirt of liquid shooting across the room. It was reminiscent of the time the blister under my toe nail shot its innards at speed towards my newly acquired walking companion. Richard and his friend Alan had allowed me to tag along with them on day two of the Cotswold Way 100k challenge. My toenail had long since parted company with its bed and was floating loose in a large bubble of liquid. Richard copped the lot when it popped and Alan, suffering himself with his post op knee, wrapped zinc oxide tape around it. If you’re going to attach yourself to anyone on a long walk a retired policeman and ex RAF logistics officer are a good bet. Two true gents who dragged me to the end of our challenge, crossing the line arm in arm with a real team spirit. It was quite an achievement for all of us and we were all pleased to finish. No more hunting for little pink arrows.
Now, I don’t mind admitting that I probably would have struggled
to finish that walk without Richard and Alan. It was a particularly hot weekend;
walkers were dropping out left right and centre and I had often found myself
alone on the route. With painfully shredded feet, it wasn’t so much that
I was alone that bothered me, it was the fact that I could end up alone, injured
and unable to continue that frightened me. I had been quite dehydrated
when I finished the first half of the walk the day before, and without the
regular rest stops put on by the organisers I would have been in serious
trouble. I have done the same event 3 years on the trot and it’s always
been the hottest day of the year, so it's this fear that kept me awake the
other night. What if I simply cannot carry enough water or replace salts
efficiently, and I become dehydrated and sick whilst I'm walking on the
Coast2Coast?...
My husband looked at me like I had just spoken to him in a foreign language, "Why would you want to do that?" he asked incredulously. Ever the optimist my husband doesn't do thinking ahead and wondering if that pub on the map will be open on that day or indeed still exists. "I want to be prepared, I don't want to walk all that way expecting to get lunch and find that I can't because you have to book 3 weeks in advance" I replied pronouncing each word clearly as if talking to an elderly deaf person. Still looking at me like I was mad and now not understanding my obvious irritation either, my husband replied "But there will be somewhere open you can get a drink, you'll still be in England" My husband thinks I'm a bit of a pessimist, he might have a point but I would prefer to call it "being realistic". I sit and bite my tongue remembering how, his best man, ended up in the wrong Holiday Inn on the other side of town the night before our wedding, because my then fiancé wouldn't let me book for everyone at once. I expect you can imagine the slow inhale of breath and eye rolling that I did when I found that out. But it was their inevitable cock up, they could deal with it their way. I had other things to worry about at the time, like how two bridesmaids, my parents, my brother and myself were going to get ready on time with only one bathroom! I was also remembering the time we tried to go for an impromptu lunch out with my parents and the kids one Sunday. We ended up driving around the local countryside looking for a pub that could accommodate us all, getting more and more hungry and breaking more and more rules of the road. Eventually out of desperation we ate in the mother of all rank and nasty pubs. Hey ho, my husband and I rock and roll differently. Such is life, love and marriage. We will be celebrating 9 years in July; his optimism and my "realism" do tend to work well together.
But of course, plans are not always fool proof. I once went
to the wedding of a lovely old university friend of mine called Jo. She
had sent out maps with the invitations with everything marked on it with a big
arrow. I went on my own and stayed in a little B&B not too far from
the where I thought the arrow was pointing. But it's a good job I went on
a recky the day before as I found myself looking at the map and realising I was standing under the large arrow. I couldn't figure out
where I was supposed to go. So, I decided to play a little game and dared
myself to ask the next handsome man I saw for directions. No mobile
phones in those days you had to just be braved and communicate with a fellow
human. Anyway, smiling and flirting I did indeed get the directions I
needed from a nice-looking chap who smiled politely back. It wasn't until
I visited the public toilets two minutes after our conversation and looked in
the mirror, that I realised I had an enormous piece of chicken stuck in my
teeth.
Having thought that I was all
about going off into the wild hills and not worrying about where I am, I've
come to realise that I will enjoy a good wander off the grid if I am better
able to place myself on the grid in the first place. I'm really
enjoying planning my targets along the way, if I plan them now it saves me
thinking about it too much when I'm on my walk, possibly tired and
frustrated. I want brain space to paint and think while I'm up there in
the hills. If something better comes up then great, I'll go with it. The point is I want the choice,
without my arrows being too big.
...as for the weather, I'm not
in charge of that and I can only take it as it comes and plan each day
accordingly. If it's too hot then I'll have to rest, in the open pub, at
the table that I booked 3 months in advance. Maybe.
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