Another week gone and another week closer to setting off on my little stroll.
I'm actually feeling pretty optimistic about the whole endeavour at the moment, which is something of a change from a couple of weeks ago where I couldn't see beyond the endless stream of jobs laid out before me. Now that I have for the most part sorted those little conundrums I'm feeling much more organised although from a purely physical standpoint I would still really like to get out and get some more practice miles under my belt. Alas it does as ever come down to the quantity of free time available to me and as I have yet to perfect a method of being in two places at once I've just got to accept a few compromises with my preparation I suppose. It's just occurred to me that you're probably not reading this in order to hear a grown man complain (though if you are, might I take a moment to point out what an odd taste in reading material you have) so I'll concentrate instead on what I have actually accomplished rather than what I haven’t. 
As you well know by now, I'm doing this challenge in order to raise money for Katharine House Hospice (though I must confess that my own ambition to walk the weather map is also a factor) so to try to drum up some support from the fine people of Stafford I penned a letter to all the local papers with the hopes that they would stick a mug shot of yours truly and a few well chosen words in their next publication. At the time of writing only the Stafford Chronicle have had the excellent judgement to take me up on this tempting offer though I'm hoping to turn on the charm (if I can remember how that is) and talk my way into a few others before setting off. As far as I can remember Monday morning was the first press interview I've ever had and it was certainly my first photo shoot. I'm generally one of those people who is happier to be behind the camera rather than in front of it, so having to strike a variety of poses for the photographer whilst passing shoppers tried to figure out who I was supposed to be, was a slightly uncomfortable experience. I think it’s the smiling that I have a problem with. Look at a selection of pictures of my good self and on the vast majority I will be wearing the same sort of impassive expression. This has nothing to do with my mood at the time of the shot, but is more to do with the fact that any time I attempt to force a smile for the sake of photographic posterity I invariably come off looking either hopelessly vacant or worryingly sinister. It was with some trepidation then that I searched for my article in the latest issue of the paper wondering which side of the scale I was going to land on this time. It may sound a bit vain, but I was nonetheless pleasantly surprised then to find that the picture was actually not too bad (I suppose that’s the difference a professional photographer makes) however such relief was short-lived when I read the accompanying caption declaring the fund raising trek of a "Mr Chris Perry". Better luck next time I suppose. 
It's official, I now have reached the point where I have more equipment than I can fit into the pack that I'm attempting to carry it in. Up until last weekend even fully packed my bag was worryingly empty considering the length of the journey I've got ahead of me. That is definitely not the case any longer and I've been forced to look at my assembled possessions with a "what do I need" rather than a "what do I want" perspective. To be fair to myself (and I'm writing this so why would I be anything else) pretty much everything I've bought is safely in the essential pile and it’s really only my clothes that have been trickier to categorize. The tricky part is trying to decide how many days I can cope with looking/smelling like Tarzan before I reach somewhere with laundry facilities and make myself presentable again. This isn't helped by the fact that I have always sweated like a beast during any form of exercise and when you add a weighty 70 litre rucksack into the mix my chances of being arrested for vagrancy on my travels are looking high.
Now that I've finally got all of my gear together, I thought it was well past time I throw it all into my bag and try carrying it across the countryside for a bit. I reckon the only way I'm going to be able to get an idea of how much weight I'm going to want strapped to my back for three months (if you're curious, none at all would be my ideal answer) is to go ahead and try it as many times as I can in advance. So with my folks in tow, we decided to spend Sunday walking another small section of my route for the summer, namely Shugborough to Penkridge. I've done this walk before and I can see myself doing it a few more times yet before the 21st. At a little over 10 miles it’s hardly a mammoth trek but it's long enough to get the blood pumping and strengthen up my legs a fraction more. As a training walk, probably the best selling point in my opinion is that it has a little bit of everything, woodland and hills on the chase, roads and fields around Bednall and canal towpaths into Penkridge. Given that this was the first walk with everything I intend to take with me on the LEJOG I wasn't really sure what to expect and more importantly whether my back and knees would protest about the extra strain. I was really pleased (and a little suprised) then when we reached Penkridge and I still felt pretty fresh. I know it was a short day in comparison to some of the 20-21 milers ahead but hopefully by the time I get to the longer days I will have had a chance to build up some strength on the trail. Besides I'm not attempting to break any records, and if I feel that I need an hour or two resting my legs in the pub half way through one of the longer stretches then I shan't hesitate to do so. After all, it would be rude not to sample the local beverages of the places I pass through now wouldn't it.Cheers
I'm quite fond of Cannock Chase. Not only because it's a lovely place for a stroll that's right on my doorstep but also because I've been walking up at the Chase with my family since I was a kid. I remember my dad used to drag my brother and me for a ramble every Christmas Eve in a valiant but vain attempt to wear us out so that he and my mum could enjoy a bit of a lie-in come Christmas Day. Another family favourite is a short stroll from the Punch Bowl (car park in a little valley) to the stepping stones (speaks for itself really) which is only a couple of miles at most but has nonetheless been the Sunday afternoon walk of choice in our family for years. That being the case there was really only one place for me to tromp about amongst the snow and so I shrugged into my pack (it's slowly getting heavier as I acquire more gear though for the time being it's still quite acceptable) and set out along the usual trail. 
It was one of those walks where I didn't really have a plan, though a quick glance at the map provided me with a vague circuit of seven or eight miles which I figured would be ideal. I was quite content just to wander along at my own pace and enjoy the snow covered landscape before me. I found myself contemplating what exactly it was about snow that makes everyone into a budding photographer. There's no denying that a snowy scene can be exceedingly photogenic but after dodging around my forth camera tripod (conveniently set up in the middle of the path for maximum annoyance) I did begin to wonder whether I'd accidentally wandered into an outdoor photography convention. Such was my musing on the snow's appearance that I totally failed to spot the fact that it is also rather adept at concealing the various tracks and trails criss-crossing my route. This fact was hammered home rather effectively however when it suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't seen another person in about 20 minutes (the Chase is something of a magnet to outdoorsy types on a nice day) and whilst I wasn't lost I also had no idea where I was going. A hasty consultation of the map later, I had a plan to rejoin the trail.
I'd take the next path to the right and join up with the main road that I knew was running vaguely parallel to my route somewhere just out of sight (I could hear the occasional traffic quite clearly so I knew it was probably only a mile at most). I could then follow the road to the next junction where I could pick up another trail to take me along a winding stream and back into familiar territory. It started promisingly enough, the next path I took was wide, clear and most importantly heading in the right direction. Sadly said path also thought it would be amusing to lead me the brink of the road without a hitch and then dump me unceremoniously in an overgrown copse of trees. I wasted the next 20 minutes trying to find a way around the obstruction before finally losing patience and battering my way directly through the stubborn undergrowth whilst the snow from the branches above battered its way directly down the back of my shirt. It must be said that despite this little hiccup the rest of the walk went like clockwork. I found the next path a little further down the main road as I had expected and after a brief moment where I thought I had gone astray once again the little stream appeared from under its snowy blanket and led me all the way back to the stepping stones. Not a particularly strenuous walk really, but every mile I get in my boots makes them that little bit more comfortable which is going to pay dividends when I hit the trail for real.
Speaking of hitting the trail, I've now finally pinned down a start date for this little adventure after spending forever trying to find the best way to dodge around the bank holiday. I shall be setting off from Land's End on the 21st May with the hope of arriving in John O' Groats some 91 days later on the 19th August (though this will no doubt alter once I get under way). This gives me little over 5 weeks before the big day which is not much time at all given how the past week has flown by. It has however allowed me to add a bit more structure to my itinerary to the extent that I think it's ready for its first public appearance. What follows is my plan as it stands at the moment although until I stagger into John O Groats in August it should really be considered a work in progress. Still, it should give you some idea of where I will be and when, so if you fancy joining me for a day or two you'll know vaguely where to look.
The upside of entering the month of April is that we can now enjoy lighter evenings and (in theory) some respite from the wintry weather, the downside is that it means I now have less than two months to try and get everything sorted before I hit the trail. This might seem like a long time and in terms of hours/days I suppose it is, but throw in a full time job and a multitude of house warming parties that require my presence (why have you all chosen April as the month to move!) and it suddenly becomes no time at all. This time deficit is further compounded by the seemingly unending quantity of tasks I appear to have left to do. Every job that I complete seems to somehow spawn two further jobs and I find myself thinking that if only I could replicate this technique with £10 notes then perhaps I could pack in the job and actually have time to do some planning. Hmm, I've just noticed that I seem to be moaning a lot this evening. Apologies, I shall henceforth attempt to be relentlessly chipper, well at least for the remainder of this blog entry anyway. So without further ado, my to-do list as it stands at the mo:
-Gear
- Accommodation
- Maps/Food Parcels
- Fundraising
- Training
- Blogging
First off apologies for the absence of posts for the last few weeks, especially given that I promised to up date you with random nonsense on a regular basis. In my defence I've been pretty busy recently and when trying to decide between actually getting some sleep and updating my ramblings, poor old Mr Blog is inevitably going to end up with a bad case of negligence. On the plus side, by August you're all going to be pretty sick of reading about my exploits so consider this somewhat disjointed blogging phase my way of easing you in. You're Welcome.
Most of you I'm sure have at some point purchased or had purchased for them a new pair of shoes. You will know full well then that breaking-in the aforementioned footwear is not a task to be relished and in my opinion is one of the best arguments against shoe shopping besides its overwhelming tedium (sorry girls but its true). Walking boots being generally studier than your average pair of trainers require considerably more miles of tramping before they mould themselves to the shape of your feet. My boots in particular seem to have taken this period of shape transition as a personal affront to their dignity and as a form of protest have taken it upon themselves to shred my feet to buggery. Next time I plan to walk this sort of distance I think I'll get myself a pair of flip flops!!
The plan for the day was a trek of roughly 14 miles from the outskirts of Uttoxeter across country to the residence of Lord Lichfield at Shugborough. I must admit I was a little nervous at first as my folks dropped me off in the suburbs of Uttoxeter. All I had was a couple of bottles of water, a bundle of tracker bars (see my Tracker Tracker) and my map and whilst this was hardly going to be a trek through the Sahara or Amazon rainforest, I've not really had to rely on my own map reading before and I didn't really want to end the day in Plymouth. After crossing the first few fields and stiles my worries had pretty much disappeared, the Staffordshire Way is fantastically well way marked (at least the bits I've walked thus far have been) and seeing that marker on the gate you think the map is pointing you towards is a huge confidence booster to the rookie navigator. The majority of the first half of this walk is across farmland, following hedgerows and field boundaries as it winds its way slowly south towards the village of Abbots Bromley. The views can't honestly be described as spectacular, but to someone who works in an industrial estate, the wild hedgerows and deserted woodlands were pretty enough and served as a good reminder that there is still a lot of green places in this country if you get off the beaten track.
Understandably I rejoined the trail with something of a relief after lunch and was happy to leave Abbots Bromley behind me which was something of a shame, as the village itself is exceedingly photogenic and I would have enjoyed exploring the place a little more extensively. But for now that would have to wait till I passed this way again in the summer I still had quite a way to go before I could stop for the day. The afternoon was a continuation of the farmland theme from the morning though it was broken up somewhat a couple of miles south of Abbots Bromley by Blithfield Reservoir where I spent a few minutes watching the windsurfers whizzing across the water when they weren’t busy falling off. After that, it was back to the fields and stiles and I found myself drifting off into a happy little walking trance only to find myself leaping twelve feet into the air seconds later as a loud explosion erupted from the middle of the field. Apparently the farmers of the Staffordshire have decided that the traditional scarecrows of the past no longer cut the mustard and have instead decided to fire off air cannons at random intervals to scare off the birds and give heart attacks to random passers by.
I also reckon that I've rambled on for far too long now and that you're probably getting a bit bored of reading by now so I'll be merciful and wind things up. Rest assured that once I'm on the road for real and writing my blog entry’s by torchlight in my tent they will be somewhat shorter and probably even less coherent if that’s possible. I'll be back with more ramblings in the next couple of weeks where I'll talk about my visit to the Outdoors Show at the NEC and a variety of other assorted nonsense
