Day 7 - Ups, downs and colourful feet

St. Breward to Pipers Pool - 27/5/08

It dawned on me gradually this morning that for once I wouldn't have to bother with my usual ritual of dismantling camp. It was a nice feeling and even nicer to be in a comfy bed rather than my normal 5 star canvas accommodation. Despite the lack of chores, it was still almost 10-o-clock before I finally loaded myself up and staggered back onto the trail. Most of the blame for the delay (besides pure laziness on my part) was down to the fantastic feast laid on by my hostess for breakfast. It turned out that she was actually the head chef over at the pub I had eaten at last night and given how good my meal had been there, I didn't want to waste a single morsel this morning.

Such a filling start to the day turned out to be a very good thing as today turned out to be another long one. It was also probably the trickiest navigation I have had to do so far, as my route took me right across the middle of Bodmin Moor. In fact I not only walked right across the moor but I also did it via the highest point, Brown Willy, which at 1,377 feet, also happens to be the highest point in Cornwall. This means that for the 20 minutes that I spent having a break at the summit, I was higher than anyone else in the whole of Cornwall, which is not something you get to say everyday !!

The downside of bagging the peak before lunchtime swiftly became apparent as, by the time I had scrambled up to the summit and down the other side, I was already thoroughly worn out. Sadly, at this point, I still had some 10 or so miles to go, so there was nothing to do but suck it up and press on. The pressing on went fine for about an hour but upon seeing the sign for Jamaica Inn, my will power crumbled and I found myself suddenly inside this atmospheric little tavern. Being something of a tourist trap due to its connection with the novels of Daphne du Maurier, I ended up paying somewhat over the odds for my afternoon refreshments. Whilst this was a little irritating, the food was fine and the drink was cold and at this point in the day both were exceedingly welcome.

Suitably refreshed, I left the old coaching inn behind me and took a series of lanes to the wide open spaces of Hendra Downs, where I promptly got lost. I've noticed a slightly devious nature in some of the Cornish rights of way. On more than one occasion, I have been lured away from the roads with the beginning of a well waymarked trail, only to have the said trail vanish. It's almost as if the person responsible for waymarking has lost interest after marking the first couple of points and wandered off to do something else. I therefore found myself in the middle of an expanse of common land with only a vague idea of the direction I needed to be heading in. Fortunately my compass came to the rescue and with a bit of common sense (not to mention following field boundaries looking for exits) I did eventually get myself back on track.

This was the last thing I needed at this point to be honest. I was already feeling pretty tired and an extra hour trying to exit the downs all but finished me off. The last hour to Pipers Pool was a nightmare. Everything hurt (it still does) but special mention must go to my feet which felt as though they were being steadily crushed into two large pancakes by the weight of my pack.

Eventually I made it into Pipers Pool and to the front door of the Rudona B&B and a welcome from Barbara and Roger, which started to ease the pain. I've decided to take an unscheduled day off tomorrow to try to give my feet a chance to return to their normal colour (right now they are literally black and blue). It's actually good timing, as I'm running low on supplies and as I should be back to camping again for the next few nights, I really need to stock up.

Day 6 - Moors, Camels and a typical Bank Holiday

Trekenning, St. Columb Major to St. Breward - 26/5/08

Hurrah for the great British Bank Holiday !! As with every bank holiday since the dawn of time, the weather today consisted of a non-stop downpour. Added into the mix for this particular holiday were gale force winds, which it has to be said, made the conditions far from ideal for a nice long hike. However, that's exactly what I have been "enjoying" all day, but on the plus side, it makes the evening visit to the pub all the more pleasurable (I'm writing this in The Old Inn, St. Breward)

Even better news is that tonight, after four nights under canvas, I've finally got a real bed and a roof over my head. Of course, all of that pleasure has to be balanced by the considerable pain, which takes the form of my increasingly blistered feet. My little toe on my right foot has a blister three layers deep, having blistered, burst, blistered again, burst again and today has managed to blister yet again. Bandaging doesn't seem to make any difference - I think I might just leave it "au natural" tomorrow and see what difference that makes (only joking).

Anyway, I must stop moaning and concentrate on the positives, as reading about the deterioration of my body scarcely makes riveting reading. Today's walk started like every other so far, with a delightful trundle down the side of a road. Mercifully, it wasn't long before I left the asphalt behind and struck out along the path to the ancient hill fort of Castle an Dinas. If I had thought it was windy down the road, then up on the hill it was blowing a gale. It did make me think just how bleak life must have been when the fort was in use, especially seeing as they would not have had a comfy "Gore-Tex" shell like myself. Still, even with the "Gore-Tex" I was getting a touch on the chilly side, so I left the windy summit and headed off across the surrounding moor. Sadly, I managed to head off in completely the wrong direction, though after much head scratching, I did eventually make it back onto the road; just not quite where I had intended.

Fortunately, navigation for the rest of the day proved to be a doddle, with more lanes to follow before joining the Camel Trail at Boscarne Junction. The Camel Trail was an unexpected pleasure after so many days of road walking. Following the path of an abandoned railway, the trail passes through picturesque woodland alongside the course of the Camel River. Probably the best thing about the trail (besides the lovely setting) is that, being an ex-railway, it's almost completely flat. Given how hilly Cornwall has been thus far (surprisingly so), a bit of level walking is just what the doctor ordered.

Alas, in order to reach St. Breward and my room for the night, I had to abandon the trail and set foot again on the all too familiar roads. Perhaps it was a form of protest about my previous abandonment, but the road had one last dirty trick up its sleeve. This came in the form of a dirty great hill, which reduced my last half hour to a painful, back breaking slog. Luckily, I have a real bed tonight in which to recover, which, given the continuing downpour outside, is a very good thing indeed!!

Day 5 - Showers, blisters and a walk in the woods

Carnon Downs to Trekenning, St. Columb Major - 25/5/08

After a day off (Day 4) seeing the sights and sounds of Carnon Downs (not sure a whole day was really required for this), it was up with the sun this morning and back on the trail. The route for today was around 17 miles and, for the most part, along Cornish lanes again. This being the case, I was fully expecting my feet to get another hammering and unfortunately I wasn't disappointed. It seems that I now have more blisters than it is actually possible to plaster, which led me to wonder, at one painful moment, why they don't make blister plasters large enough to cover your whole foot. Hmmm seems to be a gap in the market there !!!

Apart from the blisters, today has actually been quite pleasant (apart from the last hour where I was dying on my feet - but nothing new there). This is something of a surprise as today is the longest day I've done thus far. Even more surprising is the fact that my niggly knee (which was becoming particularly tiresome) behaved itself pretty much all day. There were a few exceptions, such as on steeper slopes, but any improvement on the pain front is exceedingly welcome.

What of the walk itself then? It started off, as ever, with a good drenching from the maddeningly inconsistent weather; it's blue skies and lovely now. Sort of expecting that this was going to be the case, I made sure to transform myself into "Gore-tex Man" before setting off. This of course was the best way to ensure that immediately on setting off, it stopped raining, but having just started out on the road I was reluctant to stop to remove my "cocoon" only to have the drizzle re-commence.

First stop, of sorts, was the city of Truro, though given that it was a Bank Holiday Sunday and still early morning, the whole place was deserted, save for the few folks hurrying into the Cathedral in time for morning service. Seeing little point in hanging around an empty town centre, I took a couple of photos for posterity and headed along the road out of town. After a couple of miles of the now familiar lanes, I finally got a chance to bid farewell to the asphalt for an hour or two and threaded my way through Idless Wood.

I've done coastal paths, moorland and country lanes but woodland is a new one on the terrain list for this walk so far, and I must say that the change was very pleasant. It reminded me a little of my rambles through Cannock Chase back home and though I enjoyed it, walking through dense forest for two hours without seeing another person felt a little creepy at times. I admit that on occasions, I found myself stopping to glance down the trail behind me, though quite what I was looking for, I've no idea.

Upon finally escaping the woods, it was back to the lanes once again for the remainder of the day. The problem with Cornish lanes from a hikers perspective is that they are invariably lined with tall hedgerows, which means that your view of the countryside is usually restricted to whatever happens to be growing by the roadside. There were occasions when the hedges relented and the views over the rolling hills were decidedly pleasant, but these seemed to be the exceptions rather than the norm. This is a little sad as I can't help but think that I am expending all of this energy walking through Cornwall, but somehow not seeing very much of it. Ah well; one benefit of a trek this long is that there are plenty more opportunities to see things, I suppose.

Day 3 - Hunger, thirst and a well earned pint

Pengoon Farm to Carnon Downs - 23/5/08

Phew. Today was another tough day for me. Mileage wise it wasn't too bad (though I suspect we may have under-estimated the distance of these first few days). It was just a combination of little things that made the afternoon a bit of a struggle.

Things started out poorly, with an early morning downpour soaking my camping gear prior to me trying to pack it away (for the second morning in a row). The rain also meant that the surrounding countryside was a touch on the soggy side, which was fine until I turned onto an old bridle way and discovered that the shrubberies had decided to reclaim the area. Not particularly wanting to force my way through waist high vegetation first thing in the morning, I had a "shufty" at the map to see if I could find a reasonable alternative.Alas, the only one that took me even vaguely in the right direction would add another couple of miles to the journey and hence was equally unappealing. In the end, I had to rummage around in my pack and donned the waterproof trousers and gaiters I had brought for just such an occasion. It was hard going, but fortunately after a mile or so of dragging my poles through the surprisingly clingy flora (imagine walking along with a miniature anchor on each arm), I emerged back onto the smooth open road.

Roads then swiftly became the theme of the day, which was great for navigation (roadsigns made my map and compass somewhat redundant for the day), but I can attest that the unyielding surface is pretty hard on the feet. I was more annoyed than usual then when the chance to rest my weary legs for a spell at the pub in Porkellis was snatched away. Apparently the landlord had figured that Friday afternoon would be the best time to close the establishment in order to frustrate passing hikers. And frustrate he did. I had intended Porkellis (being a decent sized village) to be a good place to stop, but the closure of the tavern meant that by the time I reached the next village, some two hours later, I was absolutely starving.

It was at this point that I made a fundamental mistake. So glad was I to finally find some sustenance, that I totally failed to take into account the status of my water supply. Despite the gloomy start, by this point the weather had turned fair and hence I was getting through my beverage somewhat faster than normal. Of course, such a thought failed to cross my mind until I was about an hour from my destination, when I tried to take a swig from my, now completely empty, Camelbak. It's one of those laws of the universe that when you can't do something, the desire to do it increases a hundredfold. Suffice to say that before I finally made it to camp, I was seriously contemplating flagging down random motorists to see if any of them had any spare beverages.

The upside of this is that I shall be unlikely to make the same mistake again and at least it took my mind off my niggly knee for a while. To compensate for my privations, I'm now sitting in the Carnon Inn, supping a cold pint of Cider and eagerly awaiting the arrival of my Steak Pie. One of the best things about a hard days walking is how much better the evening meal tastes when you know you've really earned it; and I think it's fair to say that this one has been well earned.

Days 2 - Sea, tea and niggly knee

Bone Valley (Penzance) to Pengoon Farm - 22/5/08

I'm currently hiding in my tent so I thought I might as well crack on with the blog while I'm trapped. You might assume that I'm hiding from the rain but you'd be wrong (for a change). I'm in fact sheltering from the piercing gazes of the four toddlers from the pitch next to mine. They seem to have found something intensely fascinating about my visage and are content to stand in a silent huddle and stare at me. Finding this a touch on the creepy side, I've retreated to my sanctuary whilst they go and find another hiker to examine.

Unnverving children aside, how has the second day on the road gone I hear you ask? The succinct answer would be slightly schizophrenic I suppose. This morning, as I meandered along the winding coastal path from Penzance, I felt extremely privileged to be doing what I'm doing. On the flip side, after waiving goodbye to the sea (next time I see it will hopefully be in Scotland) and heading inland, it all fell apart and I found myself longing for the campsite well before it appeared.

The problem was not the change in scenery (though I am something of a fan of the sea), but rather the effect that the coastal path had had upon my right knee. It had started to niggle around lunchtime, but after a pit-stop in Marazion to fill up on Cream Tea (whilst in Rome etc), it seemed to have sorted itself out. It would appear, however, that it was merely shy and after an hour or two to bolster its courage, it returned to spend the day as an unwanted companion. It's not so bad that I struggle to walk, but it's irritating enough to be very hard to ignore as I trundle along. Ah well, no one said that this was going to be easy I suppose, and on the plus side I've got a rest day coming up the day after tomorrow so I can give it chance to mend a little.

For now though, I think I might brave a peek outside and see if my audience has dispersed. Mind you, it's a good incentive to get back on the trail and move on to a new site so that I can stop feeling like an exhibit.

Farewells, frustrations and the kindness of strangers

It's begun. Land's End is behind me (about 10 miles behind me in fact) and my journey is shorter than it was last night. Granted it is only 1% shorter (if that) but however you look at it, that's going in the right direction.

I must admit that, even a whole day in, the fact that I've finally started this big adventure has yet to hit home. I'm sure that in the coming days it will strike me like an anvil to the face but for now I'm happy to believe myself to be out for a weekend of rambling. That being the case, I'm happy to say that my "weekend" has started rather nicely.

After spending the night at the all but deserted Land's End Hotel (can't get much closer to the start than that really) and having the obligatory cheesy photo by the famous signpost, it was finally time to set my boots to the path and head North. For the first hour it turned out that I would be enjoying some company in the form of my Dad. Never one to waste good walking weather he was keen to walk off breakfast and being glad of the company, we set off along the coastal path together. Of course, that only served to delay the emotional goodbye's and "good lucks" but having already been on the trail for part of the morning somehow made the whole affair a bit easier.

After finally parting ways, my route took me over the most westerly hill in England, Chapel Carn Brea. I would like to tell you that the views from the top were stunning, but I'm afraid my efforts to reach the summit died about half way up the thickly overgrown "footpath". Instead, I decided to veer off and leave the shrubbery filled Carn Brea behind me and instead concentrate on reaching the iron age village of Carn Euny. And reach it I did, though even looking at the maps now from the "comfort" of my tent, I can't quite figure out how. I remember taking a slightly dubious shortcut through someone's garden and then I was somehow wandering around the ruins. Not knowing how I had got there made getting out again somewhat tricky, but after plodding through a few fields and elegantly heaving myself over a wall, I managed to get back on track.

The rest of the walk was blessedly uneventful, although my shoulders were starting to protest against the weight of my pack long before I was able to shrug out of it. I suspect this is going to be a recurring theme over the next couple of weeks whilst my body adjusts to the extra strain. Apologies in advance therefore for all the moaning I will almost certainly be doing on the subject.

To counter the moaning, allow me to speak of my delight about my first "freebie" of the trip. Before leaving, I fashioned a sign that I could strap to my trekking poles when making camp each night, declaring my intentions to walk the weather map for charity and making a general call for donations. Having had a shifty look at my poster whilst I was showering, my new neighbours decided to donate some home made Banana bread to the cause. I'm not quite sure how to enter Banana bread on the sponsor form, but to save any confusion I've decided to brew a nice cup of coffee and consume the donation on Katherine House's behalf. It's tough, this fundraising malarky isn't it?

Butterflies, Thanks And A Bit Of A Rushed Job

Morning all,

Overnight I appear to have inhaled a wandering band of butterflies who are seemingly making the most of their new found lodgings by having a party in my stomach. Yes, today is the day and whilst I've been fruitlessly trying to nudge along the passage of time to get here over the last few months now that it's finally arrived I'm wising I had more time to prepare. Still it wouldn't be an adventure if it was easy now would it and given my working status up until last Friday I think I've done all I can in the time I've had.

Of course, that doesn't mean that I'm not going to spend the rest of the morning re-checking (and probably re-re-checking) the contents of my backpack for all those things that I've undoubtedly forgotten and as such this final pre-walk blog entry is going to be a little on the brief side I'm afraid. That said, once I hit the trail tomorrow morning I'll be trying to write a diary entry every day, which should hopefully be inserted into the blog on a vaguely weekly basis depending on the speed of the local postal service (yes I really am that low-tech).

Before I scurry off to continue my final preparations, I just want to say a few words of thanks. First on the list is my family, without whose endless support and encouragement this journey would certainly have never become a reality. Thanks also to my awesome friends who have shown outstanding patience with my endless LEJOG conversations and when the going gets tough their support will keep me on the trail. Thanks to everyone who has generously donated a portion of their hard-earned money towards my fundraising endeavours for the hospice, I promise you that it will make a huge difference to the lives of patients and their families. On the fundraising front, special thanks go out to Walton High School, Barnfields Primary and Berkswitch Primary who have all been kind enough to raise money on my behalf. A special mention goes out also to my Canadian friends across the pond for their extremely generous contribution to my fundraising total. Finally thanks to any and all who have taken the time to read this little rambling diary of mine over the past months, I'm sure it will continue to be an excellent vent for my thoughts, joys and frustrations over the next 1200 miles.

Right, that’s about it for now I'm afraid. I would have liked to write a little section about the excellent weekend (despite the weather) I've just spent camping with my friends in the Peaks but I fear the butterflies will not let me sit still any longer. In compensation to the fine individuals that gave up their weekend to sit in a field with me, I've inserted a few photos from the trip to make up for the lack of prose.
All the best to everyone and I'll speak to you from the trail soon.