Yesterday was a sunny day in Yorkshire. We went for a walk along the cliffs by the White Horse at Sutton Bank.
The air was so clear. It was very atmospheric. The views were spectacular.
In order to see the white horse properly you had to be further away. Unfortunately its head was invisible.
The trees were going into their Autumn colours.
Such a perfect day for a walk up my new favourite hill to have a view over the wolds.
The chalky rolling hills with their patchwork of colours.
There are two red kites nesting in a tree in the distance.
On the way up I stopped to watch a kestrel hovering next to a hedgerow.
The verges were a mass of buttercups, speedwell and daisy.
The dandelions had formed their perfect spheres of fluff.
The cowslips have all gone to seed.
It’s a three mile walk – just right!
Well I failed. I gave it a good try and I fell short.
The plan was to walk a hundred miles in six days. I thought that would be some kind of challenge. Walking up to twenty miles a day for six days was going to be a strain. I was most concerned about my feet (I am prone to blisters) but I also had doubts about knees, hips, calf muscles and general muscle ache.
I took precautions: I bought some double blister proof socks and a ton of special blister plasters. I checked out my boots and threw them away. I checked out some other boots and thought them OK. I took some comfortable trainers.
I resolved to practice and organised a group of friends to go on regular longish walks. That didn’t work out too well – what with the weather and other things – we only managed a couple.
I was not daunted.
We started with five of us but two dropped out before the starting line. On the day before the three remaining intrepid walkers met to discuss last minute logistics. We ordered a take-away Chinese. One of our merry crew nipped out to pick up the grub, tripped on the step, sprained their ankle, and then we were down to two.
You couldn’t write it.
The two remaining heroes set off into the depths of Northumberland. We toiled up hills, braved high winds, got sunburnt, and generally walked at a fast steady pace for seven or eight hours a day. I sustained four blisters but nothing walk threatening. By the end of day four I was weary and struggled in.
The scenery was stunning, the weather fair, the food, brilliant, the beer sustaining and the company great. What more could you ask for?
Two thirds of the way through day five disaster struck. My thighs had started to hurt on day four. That had progressed on day five until my left thigh muscle completely seized up and I was reduced to a painful hobble and could not continue.
The dream had died.
All great walks eventually end in failure. Or was that political careers, lives or sporting careers?
Anyway, it meant that I was able to drive in to Lindisfarne and Holy Island by car and at least get to the finish and I also got to visit the wonderful Farne Islands as a booby prize.
My friend Nick strode on to capture the full prize and majestically complete the course. Well done Nick of the indefatigable legs and constitution of an ox.
I did get to walk for four and a half days – worryingly put on two pounds – and see some of the most beautiful countryside in the world! It wasn’t for nothing; and there’s always next year!!
I’ll be older and wiser then!
