We left the comfort of the marquee and had glow sticks attached to our bags. Our shoulders were beginning to really feel it, the weight was taking its toll after 14 hours of walking. We headed into the still darkness. Not a breath of wind to blow away the clouds. Clouds that covered the stars but kept in the warmth. I aimed the beam of light from my head torch up into the trees, to the left or right, just to see what was out there.
The profile rolled on, long lanes, open fields, woodland. As I looked straight ahead I could see quick flashes of bats banking in the cone of light. Moths clumsily flew into me, or I clumsily walked into them, probably the latter, I was the intruder here. Eventually, after some sombre hours we reached the bottom of a steep lane, to the right was a reservoir, spread across in the darkness, it was a sight to behold, you could just make out the far trees. We heard voices of encouragement as we neared the summit, two men had boxes of sweets, giving us words of encouragement, telling us it wasn't far until the next rest stop at 67km.
The majority of this stage had been on country lanes, which I hated, I hated the hardness under foot, jarring every sinew. My walking poles were useless on this surface. I was feeling low, we both were. We finally reached our target after a numbing downhill road section. Descents on the road, my least favourite terrain, you have to use more effort to slow yourself. Our passes were scanned, we found some chairs and sat.
This was the worst I'd seen it. Glassy eyed faces stared into god knows where. People wrapped in foil blankets were fumbling about with plasters, socks, food or just quietly chatting amongst themselves trying to make the situation sound better. Heads were down. A member of staff called out telling us a shuttle bus to Brighton Racecourse, our ultimate destination, was about to leave. And honestly, I wasn't the slightest bit tempted. But I was becoming slightly hacked off.
We stuffed our faces with some food, with hindsight probably not enough, and set off. We decided to not stay long, why prolong the misery? This next section was 13km, we knew it would be tough, really hard, difficult, arduous, strenuous, laborious, painful. Every terrain you can imagine was there. I was in a situation like no other I'd entered but we were getting through it. As the long night slowly grew lighter, the birds began. I'd been waiting for the dawn chorus but it was somewhat anti climatical, mainly because I just couldn't enjoy it. I had legs of lead and feet that were numb. It was nice to hear but it just didn't seem to matter.
We started to pass some people in really bad ways. Walkers who had to grab hold of their thighs and lift their legs over stiles, in a pained whimper. Walkers who were almost being carried to the next rest stop. It was light now and we were moving at a good pace, mainly because the night was over and the rest stop was almost there, around only a few more corners. It was a welcoming sight when we saw it but I was a little indifferent. We'd made it to 80km, that was for me the real sign we would make it the whole way.
I was surprised with how well I was dealing with the lack of sleep. I leant my head on the table and could feel my mind wanting to drift off somewhere else but I shook it away. A hot sausage sandwich sorted that out. I was the epitome of grumpy and my answers were becoming short. Groups were giving each other pep talks, "we've got this far" they were telling each other. Each section's difficulty was severely heightened. It was now all about numbers, how many hours would it take? The next few kilometres were for me to be the worst of the whole damned thing.
-
You can still donate to me and Claire. I walked for the British Heart Foundation and you can donate here. Claire walked for the MPS Society, you can donate to her here.
No comments:
Post a Comment