Aaaarrgh...... aaaaaaaarrrrgh!
I feel like I’m wading through treacle – I’ve fallen into a medics man trap!
I went to the docs last week to get some pills for a minor problem, or so I thought, but instead I’ve ended up with an appointment at Macc General to see another medic.
I’m sure it will all turn out to be a mistake, I’ll get my pills and be off like a shot. Problem is the wheels can turn slowly and in roundabout ways so I don’t know exactly how it will pan out, but my target remains to finish this walk by my 60th birthday which is November - will keep you posted.
Thanks for your messages of support, they are much appreciated.

Stay well everybody – don’t get blisters, and don’t fall into any ‘medics man traps’!
Meanwhile, here are a few photos to remind you of the weather in April! Roy.

er...ahem.... .... ahem, hmm, er... umm, what I’m trying to say is, ... er, I’m feeling like a bit of a twerp – I’m still here. I should be half way up the Pennine Way by now, but instead I’m gazing into a grisly looking hole in the back of my heel, wondering how long it will take to fill itself in.
I did start again last Monday, and made it to Edale. But I’d made a big mistake in changing the insoles in my boots. I had changed them for all singing all dancing, impact resisting, high cushioning, iron your socks, bank account depleting new insoles guaranteed to whizz me up hill and down dale with virtually no effort. And I think they did for the first couple of hours.
As the day went on, a little itch turned into a fiery problem on each foot, and by the time I limped into Edale and unpicked my socks out of the holes I knew I’d have to rest up for a few days.
The new insole is a lot thicker than the original, and I think lifts the back of my heel into conflict with my boot – only one winner – not me.
What makes me mad with myself is that the original insole/boot/sock combination had performed perfectly well for the previous 600 miles or so – what possessed me to change the arrangement?
When I finally get started again I know which insoles I’ll be using!

Stay well everybody – don’t get blisters! Roy.

Well, home for a short while, so I’ve been given the job of writing my own blog – life can be very hard!

Looking back over the last couple of months, I feel almost overdosed in beauty. From sumptuous, soft green rolling low hills to the harsh and wild remoteness of our high moors and white peaks.... white? Did I say white??

Now there was a sneaky double cross by the weather department! Having had a ‘no show’ winter until the end of Feb, I was lulled into feeling that a nice warm spring was next up. Well that little dream soon went out of the window with the 80mph gale which greeted us when we arrived at Lands End!

One of my favourite photos is the one of Helen decked out in full winter gear and including ski mask. Lucky the forecast came in time to warn us so she took the mask, Helen is not good with high wind in the eyeballs. But the sea-scapes along the north Cornish coast in those conditions really were breathtaking.

The walking has never been easy with a pack weight of nearly 40lbs, and sometimes has been hard – very hard. But never (except below) outside the realms of enjoyable, after all, if you go after the easy life you don’t take up walking of any description, let alone hill walking with a full pack.

The only time when I didn’t enjoy it was after Nick went home with Caz and the girls on a day visit, having accompanied me for the best part of a week from mid to north Wales.


I don’t know for certain, but I think the combination of being so close to home, sudden loss of the company of my family, frustration at impeded footpaths and sheer exhaustion led to what I can only imagine was an emotional breakdown. I had battled on for two days after they left and suddenly found myself feeling unable to carry on. On the western edge of the Clocaenog Forest I sat down in an untidy heap and resolved that this was it, as far as I go, finish, done. But the problem of how to get home? That could wait until I’d had something to eat.

During lunch of biltong, nuts and raisins, a bar of chocolate and swallow of water I morphed into a version of Gollum in Mordor. The setting was just perfect for it too, dark pine forest stretching over the horizon, dark brooding sky, and homely comforts a long way off. And there were the two voices in my head –the voice of doom and darkness, ‘give it up, what the hell’; the voice of hope and light ‘no, another push, keep on’.... back and forth.

Even at the time I thought of the Gollum story, but was too far gone to smile at the ridiculousness of the situation. In the end the voice of hope and reason proposed a compromise. A thumbed lift into Denbigh then a bus ride to Ruthin skipped over the Forest, leaving a short walk down to Graig-fechan and a camp for the night.
It was a close run thing, and makes me realise that I am not the fiercely independent type I may have thought.

I subsequently re-learned the lesson that you cannot drop off jogging for 3 years and take it up again as if you never stopped. Even handing over my rucksack for Helen to bring back didn’t make me fly along the Cheshire canals, I was soon reduced to running 200 paces, walking 200 etc. I had to get Helen to pick me up near Congleton, and go back a couple of days later to finish off, but the weather was kind and the walk peaceful – until I came to the collapsed wall just before Macc.

So looking back, it was good preparation for the next phase, starting Monday. A major problem has been ironed out (I’ve now got a tent which will actually support life, not snuff it out!), and some minor tweaks carried out (eg, taking a cut down pot brush).
Since I’ve fought my way past polar bears and stone trolls, forest goblins and the odd dragon (plus a week old black lamb with a particularly mean look in its eye), I have no fears for the next two thirds of the journey. Except home sickness, which is what I have feared from the very start. I’m sure I’ll grow out of it.

Stay well everybody
Roy.