Islands in the Stream

We spied Canary Wharf some way off, until it almost disappeared behind a shield of grey. The same grey that soon hung over our heads and relieved itself, pouring down upon us. Maybe not in quite such biblical terms, but we did get wet. My waterproof jacket would have worked brilliantly, had I bought it with me. The majority of training walk no.4 happened under a blanket of cloud. When the sun eventually poked out the wind picked up, so very timely.

We decided on a relatively short walk - compared to our last - from Erith to Greenwich along the Thames Path. This stretch of the Thames is mostly industrial. The view of Ford Dagenham across the river comes with its very own smell of the sewage works on our side, holding your breath just won't do, we tried. Cormorants, a solitary heron, shelduck and wigeon (at least I think they were wigeon) pilfer along the muddy banks. I never expected such an array of bird life, which was foolish, because there's lots.

The planes fly in to land at City Airport, almost close enough to touch. You have to stop and admire them swooping down, wheels deployed. A few sections of the path begin to straighten out, the kind of path that seems to never end. Yet, we plod on. Canary Wharf still marks our end, toying with our minds.

The further you get towards the city, the cranes (not the birds) spring up and the wildlife dies down. The urban sprawl is sucking us in, with weary legs and feet, the thought of food gets ever stronger. I wore proper walking boots for the first time, my feet still hurt but enough to bear. It's becoming more real, this walking lark, but preparation is going in the right direction. It's officially spring so the weather can only start to get better too... The blossom is blooming and buds are, budding...

And now for the grovelling. Alarming news, I need half my sponsor money by April 13th, or I can't even stand on the start line. You can find my sponsor page here and here. And also here. My walking buddy Claire's page is here. Regarding the title of this post, you can do the detective work here.

A brisk walk south...

...100km south. Late last year, when longer days were a thing of the past and a distant and difficult to see future, I was asked a question, "Hey, Wil, would you like to walk with me to Brighton, from London?". My colleague Claire said it very matter-of-factly. After a few seconds of deep thought, I said yes. It's a cliche to say "How hard can it be?!", so I said that too.

I consider myself physically fit but after the first of three 20, give or take, mile training walks the answer to that question punched me in the face. The answer? Bloody hard. Real bloody hard. Hard on the feet, hard on the legs. Not forgetting mentally tough. Nearing the ends of these few walks I find myself revisiting the back of our family car as a child somewhere along the A303 asking that question, "Are we there yet?". Flashbacks of arduous journeys, where initial excitement fades into the simple want to arrive. Corners breed corners, where is that finish line? I just tell myself, that come May 23rd I will have to do this but three times over, 20+ hours of continuous walking, and that's not helping. There's no silver lining.

I may have made it sound like something I don't want to do. But I did say yes. Of course I want to do it, if it was easy, I'd back out. And to be blunt, I'm excited. Steinbeck once said; 'What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness'. I think of this quote a lot. Along with Claire's tiresome offer of a can of man up at every moan that leaves my lips. 

This isn't just a walk for the hell of walks by the way, we're both walking for charity, mine being the British Heart Foundation, which means something to a lot people, including myself. You can support me by donating here. And Claire is walking for The Society for Mucopolysaccharide Diseases, you can donate to her here. 

I'll try and blog a little about our progress from now until the big, big day.