August, usually a delightful month in the sense it is usually spent completely away from work for all but Saturdays with only the odd day spent doing timetables and exams. Mornings last an hour or two with late risings and afternoons spent planning which pages of the Purple Book to fulfil next. This year would prove differently. I remembered thinking as Big Ben sounded a second after 23:59:59 December 31st 2012 that Peru would be the only thing to look forward to in 2013 and unfortunately I've been proven half right. The first half of the year passed without much drama but soon after things started to take a turn for the worse on both sides of the family. August, contender alongside December for the year's greatest month was turning into the worst month of our lives. The one thing that would get us away from all the misery would be a big family event, in this case a sponsored walk to raise money for Al the Legend's charity MNDA. The Ridgeway, reportedly Britain's oldest road would give us 6 days from everything and everyone and give us something positive to focus on.
Going back at least 5,000 years, the Ridgeway stretches from Overton Hill near Avebury to Ivinghoe Beacon beyond Tring and was used right back to our Prehistoric ancestors. Mum had come up with the idea of walking it as I was looking for the next big thing for my birthday. The 3 peaks challenge was proving a bit too big for the other two so the Ridgeway seemed a bit more manageable with the added bonus of it being local so people could join us on the way. The training for the walk began months in advance. I had Peru booked and was getting ready for that and Dad was starting to realise that doing the walk in jeans, trainers and cotton socks wasn't really going to cut it. Doing Peru had helped my trekking experience no end. The thing about going on walking expeditions is that you learn something new every time. Peru had taught me about walking techniques and hydration and the Pennine Way before that gave me invaluable lessons on brining the correct kit. In a role reversal it was the son giving his father advice and despite the odd bit of sarcasm he seemed to be taking it all in. The first time you go for a 'proper' walk you soon realise it is much harder than a simple walk down the local shops. Dad started to do practise walks every Sunday to break his new shoes in and more importantly to get his feet and limbs ready for what was to come. A lifetime doing sport means nothing if you're doing something your body has never experienced, in some ways it makes it worse as you have to use specific muscles and joints in ways you've never had to before.
After all the months of training and planning it was suddenly time to go. Naturally with Mum driving the car we had plenty of everything we could possibly need (except leg room sat in the back seats! ;) ). We'd been joined by Sheila, Mum's friend she met whilst volunteering as Games Makers in the Olympics last year. Mum was still in a dark place after all that had happened with all the relatives and Sheila was perfect in keeping Mum distracted as well as cheering me and Dad on. She joined us on all but one day when we were joined by my favourite Godparents along with Brad and Ni.
Day 1 saw us driving to Avebury and Overton Hill, start of the Ridgeway. The first day was spent on the route's gentle introductory walk; a mere 9 miles with only one average hill to walk up and pretty easy ground conditions on the whole. After a few minutes we were joined by Al the Legend, Chris, Vicky, Phil and baby Joseph. Ever since Al did his walk in Forbury park that time and thus earning his legendary status me and Dad have been looking for suitable events to honour him and his effort on that day. Short of walking to the moon and back we'll never top his day, and rightly so. We all took a few promo pics, which will undoubtedly end up in a newsletter somewhere, and where then waved off with yours truly having to quickly dash back to get my hiking sticks, the very ones I credit with getting me through Peru in one piece. The walk was a mirror image of the first practise walk for most of it, the only addition was leaving our mark on a handily placed whiteboard a mile or two into the route. The views were unchanged, we'd passed people on bikes, horseback and motor bikes. We did meet one girl on route though who unexplainably decided to topple into a puddle right in front of us. Being the gentleman that I am not only did I rush straight over to help, I waited a good few seconds after passing her before me and the old one burst out laughing ;)
Day 1 also started the tradition of non-events on the walk when it came to land marks. What looks like the world's biggest tree from afar is merely a group of trees creating an optical illusion, 'the' white horse is one of seven which you can't see on the route and Barbury Castle is nowt but a few hills and a hole in the ground, I felt a bit cheesed off after going up the one steep hill on the day to be greeted by a glorified bunker covered in grass. After the confined tracks at the start of the day we walked out onto vast fields with great views of the 'rolling countryside' so famed in the area. The problem with said countryside is that you soon become blasé about it. With no trees, mountains, lakes, corners or landmarks you find yourself faced with the same views you saw half an hour ago. I have to say I felt this way about the first 3 days of the trek with regard to the views. Unfortunately after the easy going first day things started to get much trickier.
Day 2, directly across the road from where we'd ended day 1 but a world apart. This would be a common theme throughout the walk, every day brought with it a completely new walk. Over the road we were faced by a sudden, steep hill on much rockier terrain. The easy going underfoot from the previous day had been completely changed with loose stone and hardened mud. The old one had to slow me down several times as I tried to canter off ahead. We originally had 12 miles down as the target for the day but would later have a shock on our hands. In a way we were also against the clock. The afternoon involved getting arrangements sorted out for Granddad's funeral with the other two Sutton girls so time was of the essence. Dad had with him a pedometer of sorts which he was using to pace his journey. he reckoned he had a certain number of steps for every mile he walked and thus used this to judge how far we'd progressed every day. Unfortunately this seemed to be playing up on day 2, There's only so many times I could have heard 'should only be a mile more to go' before blowing a fuse, especially after having a disagreement with some nettles growing by a map on the route. When we eventually got to the end of the stage we were knackered, with good reason. After day 3 I did some research and found that instead of doing 12 miles non stop we'd done just over 16 on hard terrain. On the plus side we'd still gotten back in time to deal with Granddad's funeral. A memorable part of that was whilst looking for a jacket to bury him in. Glyn picked up one of them, had a quick look through the pockets and found a receipt from her, dated 7 years to the day. Call it fate or a sign depending on which side of the fence you stand, it certainly brought us closer together at that moment.
Day 3, no time restraint especially as it was the first big day 16 miles (or so we thought). It was Sheila's turn to drive and she did so in her swanky convertible car. The bucket seats in the back were great to ride in but a bugger to get in and out of. She wasted no time in getting to our starting point. Doing 80mph in one of our cars feels very fast indeed but is effortless in a sporty VW. This day was by far the worst of the trip for me. The previous day we'd had Wayland Smithy and another white horse to look at (and we actually got to see both this time!) this day had no such niceties to look at. Add to that a hot day with very little protection from the heat and a hard chalk road which had been churned up after years of pedestrian and vehicular use. It was great at lunch though, our first actual break as we'd simply eaten on route before and we were joined by Aunt Norm and Great Uncle Cyril (as well as some random guy with some homing pigeons). Mum had brought us lunch, a frozen bottle of squash and a parasol to sit under. Annoyingly, straight after lunch my Achilles in both heels started to play up with every step being really painful. Needless to say at this point I was starting to get well and truly fed up of the walk. I needed things to change very quickly and luckily enough, they did. Despite being knackered and damn near crippled we ended up at the Bull at Streatley. The sight of tea and ice cream was a delight, with the added bonus of meeting and old friend from school who was working at the Bull. He couldn't believe how much i'd grown and I couldn't believe how much he hadn't (mind you everyone looks small to me!).
As I hobbled back to the car in my post walk flip flops this had been a much needed boost. The other had come earlier on when I was greeted by a random group of walkers. They saw mine and Dad's charity T-shirts and asked me about why we were walking. After telling them about 'Mandy' (Mum's nickname for the charity) and The Legend they gave me £10 in sponsorship. Ralph and Anne, a big thanks to you both and also to my guardian if you exist and made it happen.
A quick aside just in case you think I've started bible bashing. Far from being religious, I've always been very straight minded when it comes to anything supernatural; too many quacks and fraudsters out there and i'm having none of it. There have been however a few times on epic purple book events, most noticeably Find the bridge parts I and II, where I've had interventions at times where I've been closest to giving up and needed help the most. I can't explain it and quite frankly don't want to. As with most things i'll remain postimistic about it all, expect nothing and except everything new and good that comes my way. Moving on...
Day 4, good in so many ways. Slightly cooler weather, breeze blowing, walking close to the river and off course being joined by My favourite godparents and grandkids Brad and Ni. David had his best jeans on, Buncy her trail finder trainers but it was Ni who was best dressed in short shorts and converse shoes. If there's the slightest hint of sarcasm sensed in this paragraph it's purely accidental... Mind you David did accuse me and the old one of showing up in fancy dress. I have to admit we did look like Bear Grylls and Ranulph Fiennes after raiding a hat shop. Dad came up with the idea of a different hat for both of us each day. The promise was of a short, gentle walk for the group before stopping for lunch and me and the old one doing another 9 - 10 miles. The lunch stops for the days was something of a mystery to us each day. Despite all the planning we were never sure on what time we'd get to each venue or how easy it was to drive there so had to stay in regular contact on the phone. The walk was brilliant. Great views, soft underfoot, plenty of shade and great company. The pace was also spot on as well. Days 2 and 3 had come close to breaking the pair of us, especially after finding out we'd misjudged the distances. We'd seen a sign two miles from the end of the previous day telling us we were approaching half distance. After doing a spot of research that evening I calculated we'd done around 6 miles more than planned which really helped to get our spirits up.
The slow pace helped my heels and the soles of Dad's feet to recover. We'd also started to walk through my personal favourite, woodland. I guess i'm living up to what Dad's always feared from me in turning semi-hippyish, with good reason for our trip. Woods meant shade, soft ground and of course beautiful and varied views. The mood started to change though as the topic of where we were stopping for lunch came up. With the usual uncertainty of our stop we walked a little further, and a little further again. I could tell Dad was getting nervous as he darted off in front to see where Mum was. The group's pace had also quickened at this point as our fellow walkers were beginning to feel the pinch. At one point Brad and Ni were close to refusing to take another step. Eventually though we saw the silver Focus and a row of folding chairs laid out for us. We sat and had lunch and then me and Dad left everyone to it. I'm told Brad and Ni both fell asleep on the car journey back, so much for the energy and exuberance of the youth ;) The two of us strided off and quickly found a new rhythm which had been lacking from the previous two days. Later on we came to our first problem when it came to directions. The Ridgeway is noticeable for it's near perfect signage. Whereas the Pennine Way is merely strewn with the odd cairn here and there (piles of rocks to you and me) the Ridgeway had proper signs, black signs with clear white writing and an acorn symbol. It is this symbol which we started to rely on from day 4 onwards. We reached Nuffield and found ourselves flummoxed. Where were the signs? We'd later find out that golf courses and the bigger settlements on the route are very snooty about this sort of thing and don't want to advertise the fact any Tom, Dick or Harry (or Ross or Paul) can walk through. We were faced with a country road going two ways, a nettle strewn path or entrance to a golf club. The locals seemed baffled as to the paths route (also a common theme) so we tried in the golf club. A couple of helpful members guided us through the course which involved following various wooden posts all showing the acorn symbol which went across several fairways. We hopped across looking out for any stray balls flying through the air and followed the route Mum had given me over the phone. A few more miles after that and it was the end of the day's trek.
Day 5. Starting the day with just the two of us and feeling relatively fresh we motored off towards Wendover where we'd be spending the night. As well as passing what seemed like the umpteenth 'White House' we knew we'd also be walking alongside Chequers, official holiday shack of Sam Cam and the PM. Day 4 had really turned things around for me as I was loving the walk. The scenery for the day was the best we'd seen so far in my book. As well as lovely forests we also walked through crop fields where I took my favourite shots. I had this image of the start of the great novel 'Of Mice and Men', i'll leave you to decide which one of us it George and which one is Lenny... Despite being a much easier day than days 2 and 3 it gave us the biggest challenges. Be sure that Dad won't be forgetting the name of the steepest hill of the route, Brush Hill was pretty epic in its continuous steepness, we both needed a breather after that one! Despite a bit of dodgy signage we eventually made it to our overnight stop. Wendover is a delightful little place, even if the locals appear a bit vague at times. The Red Lion Hotel would have appeared luxury after our efforts even if it was a 2 star haven but it was that and more. The great looking rooms ticked the 4 boxes i'd been hoping for; Shower, bed, kettle and TV. Within minutes of arriving it was bliss. The cup of tea, despite having a pretty rank blend in it still went down a treat, the shower felt like getting caught in a perfect rain storm, the bed felt great and it was Man vs Food on the telly, bliss. Mum brought in another frozen bottle of orange, dinner was ham, eggs and chips and after a spot of Big bang theory and 101 things removed from the human body on the box it was time for sleep.
Final day. Breakfast at the hotel where the old one called me a tart for choosing pancakes and syrup for breakfast. As it was my birthday I promptly told him to do one and would later berate him after he complained his full English brekkie was threatening to pop back up to pay him a visit. As well as loving the idea of pancakes and syrup for breakfast and never being ar$ed to do them myself, I'd had them in New York so was remembering another great birthday which I hoped this one would be. After getting a bit lost at the start of the day 6 trek we eventually found the route again. We'd asked 3 elderly women and a rather nice looking resident in a nightdress who all seemed clueless as where to go but we sorted it in the end. Getting lost turned into a theme for the day as later on we'd find ourselves lost twice more, going half a mile out of our way at one point. Day 6 had the most memorable sections to it for me. Dad had told me of two of his four great fears. We didn't come across any frogs or rats on the route but in the same day were faced with a stampeding group of white faced sheep (who knew!) and a footbridge over a main road.
The sheep scenario was Ok as he had me with him (bless!) but it was a case of a bridge too far when crossing the A41. While I wanted to look over the side and take pictures I was ordered to keep talking to him and walk VERY slowly right in the middle with him holding onto my backpack! It was after that we missed one of the usual black signs and walked a while in the wrong direction and had to double back. On the same day we came to our lunch stop in Hastoe, a tiny village with a touch of quirkiness I always love. It didn't go down well with the old one when we had to double back to meet up with Mum and Sheila after mis-judging the stop point. We were quickly bundled into the back and drove down to road to the lunch point. Shortly after that, my favourite part of the walk through Tring Park. This was by far the most beautiful forest we'd been through with huge trees. We were also within single figures for miles to our destination. We eventually reached Aldbury Nowers which is the entrance to Ivinghoe Beacon. The long gradual climb up to the top gave us our final glimpse of the great scenery which now took on more significance as we reached the end of the trip. At the end it was not the welcome we'd planned with all the games makers and the like, just a group of mates who we asked to take our pictures. It did help that the girl taking our pictures was completely stunning so every cloud and all that.
Mum phoned us up at that point as she was in the car park a short walk back from the finish point. Me and Dad walked back and were eventually joined by my favourite godparents and The Legend and his clan. It was great to have everyone there who had supported us the most during the trip and it was brill to hear of all the donations pouring in which we're so grateful for. At the time of writing this we're around the £1,700 mark which I think is pretty epic considering none of us belong to any big businesses. The others may be upset not everyone replied to the begging letters but i'm so happy with the amounts coming in from those who have given, seriously generous stuff so a huge thanks to everyone whose helped us.
A big congrats to the old one for completing what he's calling his very own Peru. Despite falling over in that ditch (forgot to mention that bit...) he got through the walk relatively injury free which isn't bad considering he's in his 60s. A big thanks to our great support crew in Mum and Sheila. Yes they may have been sipping tea and eating ice cream at certain times while we were trekking out in the later 20s on hard ground but they were always there to keep us going and look after us after each day. A year's break until the next biggie which will probably be the Bath to Reading walk I've been promising myself for a while now. So many walks and ideas, so little time. As long as Al the Legend draws breath and continues to inspire i'll do whatever it takes to help his charity out. As for the Purple Book, another worthy entry and timely good experience to end this truly crap month on. May life be infinitely more enjoyable from this point on for yours truly and everyone I hold dear.
Rossifer / The Bear xx
The slow pace helped my heels and the soles of Dad's feet to recover. We'd also started to walk through my personal favourite, woodland. I guess i'm living up to what Dad's always feared from me in turning semi-hippyish, with good reason for our trip. Woods meant shade, soft ground and of course beautiful and varied views. The mood started to change though as the topic of where we were stopping for lunch came up. With the usual uncertainty of our stop we walked a little further, and a little further again. I could tell Dad was getting nervous as he darted off in front to see where Mum was. The group's pace had also quickened at this point as our fellow walkers were beginning to feel the pinch. At one point Brad and Ni were close to refusing to take another step. Eventually though we saw the silver Focus and a row of folding chairs laid out for us. We sat and had lunch and then me and Dad left everyone to it. I'm told Brad and Ni both fell asleep on the car journey back, so much for the energy and exuberance of the youth ;) The two of us strided off and quickly found a new rhythm which had been lacking from the previous two days. Later on we came to our first problem when it came to directions. The Ridgeway is noticeable for it's near perfect signage. Whereas the Pennine Way is merely strewn with the odd cairn here and there (piles of rocks to you and me) the Ridgeway had proper signs, black signs with clear white writing and an acorn symbol. It is this symbol which we started to rely on from day 4 onwards. We reached Nuffield and found ourselves flummoxed. Where were the signs? We'd later find out that golf courses and the bigger settlements on the route are very snooty about this sort of thing and don't want to advertise the fact any Tom, Dick or Harry (or Ross or Paul) can walk through. We were faced with a country road going two ways, a nettle strewn path or entrance to a golf club. The locals seemed baffled as to the paths route (also a common theme) so we tried in the golf club. A couple of helpful members guided us through the course which involved following various wooden posts all showing the acorn symbol which went across several fairways. We hopped across looking out for any stray balls flying through the air and followed the route Mum had given me over the phone. A few more miles after that and it was the end of the day's trek.
Final day. Breakfast at the hotel where the old one called me a tart for choosing pancakes and syrup for breakfast. As it was my birthday I promptly told him to do one and would later berate him after he complained his full English brekkie was threatening to pop back up to pay him a visit. As well as loving the idea of pancakes and syrup for breakfast and never being ar$ed to do them myself, I'd had them in New York so was remembering another great birthday which I hoped this one would be. After getting a bit lost at the start of the day 6 trek we eventually found the route again. We'd asked 3 elderly women and a rather nice looking resident in a nightdress who all seemed clueless as where to go but we sorted it in the end. Getting lost turned into a theme for the day as later on we'd find ourselves lost twice more, going half a mile out of our way at one point. Day 6 had the most memorable sections to it for me. Dad had told me of two of his four great fears. We didn't come across any frogs or rats on the route but in the same day were faced with a stampeding group of white faced sheep (who knew!) and a footbridge over a main road.
