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Hadrian’s Walk Update Friday – from Dad Who Writes
by admin on Jul.09, 2010, under Fundraisers
- Some of the walkers – Photo by Oli Walker
I’m tired. The muscles around the back of my neck ache and my calves are twanging like overwound guitar strings. We’re staying in a hostel owned by the local landlord who prices little extras like breakfast and tea the way you’d expect dry-land piranhas to if they owned pubs. This is comparative to other bunk barns and hostels, of course. It feels a bit like Yojimbo (or A Fistful Of Dollars) except there isn’t another Big Family at the other end of the village. There isn’t even another end.
Meanwhile, Phill is wandering around the hostel in bare feet looking very spaced out and I’ve resorted to mint tea with nettles (you’d think I’d have seen enough nettles by now). Keith and Clare are looking for Ibuprofen. I refer them to Ed. Ed is the Man, the Supplier, the possessor of the right stuff. He has a 500 pill carton of CostCo ibuprofen. Like so much of the world, many of us are grateful for American Drugs.
Meanwhile, I’ve progressed from “too shy to talk to Jo Beaufois” to “wearing an item of her clothing next to my skin”. Oh alright. She’s lent me a knee bandage.
Last night I sat up and played Chase The Ace, drank mead and got rather tipsy with a crowd of people – Ian, Oli, Jo, Ellie, the Other Ian and more. Some of you have impressively inventive foul mouths, people. With all this and the tent business, all I need to is start smoking again and I’d be back in scouts.
Hadrian’s Walk Update 2 – from Dad Who Writes
by admin on Jul.07, 2010, under Fundraisers
Today was a tough day. 18 miles, hundreds of stiles and a bloody great hill to drag oneself up as a piece die resistance. And then you realise the Bunkhouse is still a mile away.
I’ll mention that the scenery was surprizingly lovely, that I bravely faced down a prone cow who looked a bit tasty and that we saw our first bit of real, authentic wall.
I tramped through the afternoon with Ed Lamaze. We were both in pain from different uncooperative body parts but having Ed – a laidback fellow blogger formerly of Louisana – certainly made a tricky part of the walk for me a positive pleasure. I’m afraid I interrogated him in great depth about his home and adoptive state and he was goodhumouredly patient for the three hours we spent trekking towards the farm we were staying at.
Now on to the trivial stuff. Injuries spotted today included:
A nasty bit of tendonitis in Rajov’s foot. He also asked Dan if he had a piece of snot in his moustache.
Ed’s cracked skin on his feet. They held up but he hobbled the last few yards and fell asleep as soon as he’d claimed a bunk. He can’t stand the National either but I’ve decided to forgive him.
Justin’s blisters. The Americans are suffering.
Craig’s strained glute which migrated to his calf over the course of the day.
My own dodgy knee which kicked off at the site of the first of an insane number stiles. It was like an obstacle course for a couple of miles.
More blisters for Virginia’s Stephen and Sherry*.
Bad knees for Oya, the mysteriously named Dutch women.
A bad back for Mushy (I have no idea who Mushy is. Sorry, Mushy.)
Devastated dignity for Phil. I’ve never seen chair legs go flying in four different directions before, leaving Phil dumped square on the floor looking bemused at the injustice of the universe. Bet the chair felt worse, though.
Hadrian’s Walk Update from Dad Who Writes
by admin on Jul.06, 2010, under Fundraisers
I’m up and blogging at 5am after waking up with a sore shoulder in a roomful of other men (I sleep awkwardly in new places). No-one was snoring but I was petrified of turning over noisily and waking someone. So I got up. We’re staying at the North Farm Bunkhouse and it’s quiet. Which at 5am kind of figures.
So, Day 1. Fifteen or sixteen miles from Wallsend to Heddon-On-The-Wall. We started off in a huge gang of 35 and the first few hundred yards felt like an invading army swamping the cycle path. The cyclists sharing the Hadrian’s Path were surprisingly relaxed (London cyclists would have simply mown us down) but everyone soon started to spread out into little groups of two, four or six depending on pace and level of acquaintance. Everybody seemed to be getting along tremendously well. Actually, everyone was getting along tremendously well. One of the many amazing things about this whole business has been the ongoing way it demonstrates the tendency of strangers to be well, excellent to each other. The other interesting thing has been how nobody so far seems to have felt the need to authenticate the ongoing excellence of everything by Twittering or blogging about it (I’m always a bit sceptical about events so good that everyone has to constantly stream how good they actually are to the outside world. Though I suppose I’m doing just that, technically).
