The Great To Do day 4

On the way back to Newcastle for day 4 we reflected on our encounter with the locals. We had also met a pair of walkers who had stayed at the same campsite in Llantillo Crossnenny. Apparently someone called Doris is on site but has poorly lags so sits in a rocker similar to Mrs Bates watching the passers by. If there was a red car on the site it belonged to Doris. Poor Doris must have watched us leave, if only she could have reached her campsite fees. Bless.

Anyway day fours start was up a massive big hill through ferns, nettles and all sorts of wonderful plants designed to sting, trip and otherwise delay weary legs. By now the tummy bug had claimed me so they provided useful cover as I had to attend the call of nature every five miles or so.

We were glad we had stopped at Newcastle simply because it meant we avoided the ascents and descents in and around Churchstone for 12 hours, a very interesting church with, well a massive stone in it, taken apparently from a place called Mainstone. Imaginative folks round these parts.

The countryside was simply breathtaking and had I not been keen on getting 30 miles under my belt, or even more keen on getting my belt undone every hour to avoid accidents I would have appreciated it more. Still, as I said to Stu, despite the pain from walking and stomach bug at least the weather was being kind to us. Fate must have been bored with our happy progress so did a deal with his mates Storm and Tempest for no sooner had the words left my lips than thunder roared, rain fell, and then fell heavier. We plodded on, past Montgomery in monsoon like deluge, ha I thought, is this it, is this all you have, I've had worse in the Alps. Then it hailed. I kept my thoughts to myself.

And so we made it to Buttington where a kindly soul promised us a barbque and a few pints. Through the rain I could just about see my watch, half four, two and a half hours til opening time and not the weather for standing around eating burgers. We headed off along the canal both of us thought we would be drier in the canal rather than the towpath. The last ten miles of the day were miserable, a new problem developed for me, chaffing of the thighs from the wet trousers. Still it took my mind off the blisters. Finally just by Llangamatoc or similar we found a pub, with a kind landlord who didn't mind two very drowned tired rats stinking up his bar.

Two pints later I was smiling like a Cheshire cat.

Day Four 30 plus miles Newcastle, Churchstone, Kerry Ridge, Montgomery, Welshpool, Buttington, Welshpool, Buttington, Welshpool (lost in a business park Offa had'nt counted on) Montgomery canal and beyond to death and glory, er pub. Pack weight 24 pound, calories consumed 0

Needs must!

After all the trouble the goats give me and the effort I go to to keep them out of the garden it might seem strange that today I chose to take Juliet and Bravo with me while I planted out the courgettes and sorted the tomato greenhouse.

While I was otherwise engaged they made short work of the weeds that have got a bit out of hand in the raised beds that are being rested and the brambles around the pig pen. It worked a treat, I would like to claim the idea as my own but all good ideas at Rock HQ stem from Tracey.

Mind you I watched them like a hawk, like that saying goes, keep your friends close and your enemies closer still!

The Offas Dyke Ordeal day 3

Day three was always going to be a test, walking away from the comforts of Rock HQ and along trails already walked in practice sessions but Stu and I dutifully packed our bags, ate a hearty breakfast and set off into wilderness. I ignored some strange rumblings going on in my stomach, putting it down to fizzy pop reacting with muesli bars. The sun shone, the birds sang and we plodded merrily on knowing that today we would be half way, way past halfway.

Unfortunately the excitement of reaching Knighton was shattered when we found that actually it wasn't half way along the trail as advertised, it was at least 8 miles short of halfway. Undeterred we went into the Offas Dyke visitor centre to buy an ice cream. Here we were interrogated by the Dyke Gestapo, custodians of the trail who ensure no cheating. A kindly old lady played good cop, innocently enquiring if we were going the whole way. By now we had realised that if you were asked that while walking you were not encountering ramblers with an interest in swinging, no, it meant going all the way along the dyke. Yes, we announced with pride, we are going the whole way. Excellent she purred, when did you start?

Sunday.

Sunday?

Yes

But, she paused, but its only Tuesday lunchtime! She bellowed growing in size like some weird Gerald Scarfe puppet. Get out! she screamed pointing at the door, no one gets here by Tuesday lunchtime!

We grabbed our ice creams and fled with the shout of wheres your kit ringing in our ears.

Outside we were top trumped by two walkers who were going from John O'Groats to Lands End. Our moods further darkened when we were confronted by the hills ahead, we passed a couple who envied our walking poles, yes they do make thing easier we agreed as he clutched his chest and fell to the floor gasping. The day progressed, endless ups and downs physically and mentally. Eventually we came out on some sort of common that went on for miles.

And miles.

We had a lie down and think.

Newcastle was ahead, by our calculations that was half way, once there we would summons the cavalry and await rescue at a pub, there had to be one. We would bunker down back at Rock HQ and get a good nights sleep and start again tomorrow. By the time we got to Newcastle it was just about opening time. Stu asked for a pint of pear cider. The landlady reacted like he had asked for the blood of her first born and told him in no uncertain terms that she didn't serve that sort of drink. Settling for two pints of what everybody in the village drinks we sat outside and waited rescue while the locals constructed a Wicker Man to deal with the two demons in their midst. Sara arrived and we escaped in the nick of time. Funny folk round those parts.

Day 3 miles walked 26 time started 08.30 ended 18.20 pack weight 24 pound calories consumed 127,000,000sq

Back to business

It had to happen, after all the self indulgence of last week I had to get back to work today. No dramas, I fly a desk so no worries whether my legs would last and it was nice to be back amongst friends who all seemed happy I had completed the task set.

I also managed to do the early morning round thus giving Tracey a well earned break, she had after all done the hard work while I was rambling. Admittedly my speed was akin to a stupoured sloth and my language would have made Royston Vasey blush as I jarred my blisters but I achieved the aim of feeding and watering the beasts without making us too late for work.

I earned a massive amount of brownie points for agreeing with Tracey that we needed new furniture and so we bought some.

The evening rounds were conducted in the same manner as the mornings, once done we went out to meet Beth and Tom who wanted to tell me how fantastic I am. Bless them, they are only human. So we had a very nice curry and all is well at Rock HQ tonight.

The Offas Dyke Ordeal day 2

We all woke up really early after a nigh under canvas, or rather, I woke us up really early, 4 am to be accurate, as I was convinced there was something wrong with the campsite and we were lucky not to be murdered in our sleeping bags. More of that later.

Everyone was bright eyed and bushy tailed raring to go so by 5.45 we were packed and on the move heading for Pandy. A slight error in navigation meant Pandy didn't arrive on the scene as it should have and a two mile detour was received by all with the good humour of those on an endurance event. After what became known as Offas Tourettes, the uncontrollable desire to swear loudly at whoever is leading we soldiered on and reached Pandy by 9am. Here the unthinkable happened. Sara, above, the Duracell bunny of endurance events, the girl who blagged her way onto an alpine expedition I led by convincing me of her climbing prowess when in actual fact heronly mountain experience consisted of walking across a car park in Snowdonia saying oooh they look big, well her, she ran out of go. And stopped. A totally startling almost surreal experience to any one who knows her, she just never stops. But she did. In Pandy. Sorry, it all feels wrong I cant go on. Bye.

We left her safe a bus stop and pressed on over the hills and far away, and as we were traversing the Black Mountains another strange experience. A reporter, Jess Childs, from the Hereford Times called me to ask what on earth we thought we were doing. Inn between gasping for air I told her of The Great To Do. Fantastic a photographer would meet us in Hay on Wye at half 3.

Now we had a deadline the plan started to unravel, Jimbo, a stalwart was suffering in silence and finally let on that his boots were crippling him. So much so he could not endure the pain, he pulled the eject handle and baled out on Hay Bluff. And then there were two. Stuart and me.

How we pushed on I don't know but somehow both of us made it to the RV with the nice photographer who made us parade up and down a bit for action pics. Finally in Hay On Wye we could resupply with drink, but no food, all food sales are banned it seems after 6 pm on a Monday. If you want to buy a book, well there are 24 hour dealers, sustenance to stop you eating your own arm, sorry no sale.

So fuelled with Vimto (one can 330ml can give enough energy to power up a 1 in 4 hill) Stuart and I merely had to complete another 14 miles before bedtime at Rock HQ which as we all know is somewhere on Offas Dyke.

Again a combination of e numbers, stupidity and determination got us to our destination where Tracey and Sara were waiting . Sara seemed a bit better, Tracey was as ever just wonderful and tended to our every need.

I managed to get upstairs before my legs set and fell asleep in the safety of Rock HQ.

Day 2 Llantillo Crossnenny, Pandy, Llantony Priory, Hay on Wye, Newchurch, Rock HQ. 34 or so miles. Start 05.45 finish 21.45 Pack weight 43 pound. Calories consumed 1,000,000,000,000,000,000.098

Shear fun in the real world!

Back in the real world, the one where Tracey has had to do all the work while I stroll around the countryside with my friends, there is lots of work to be done. Yesterday passed slowly as I recovered from the exertions of the trek, both feet had swelled from bruising so I spent a jolly day with them in a bucket of cold water reading and drinking a few beers. We went to The Harp to celebrate and had the usual fantastic meal, once again David cooked a steak that could not be surpassed in any way shape or form.


Sunday dawned, along with a new batch of aches and pains but the shearing had to be done so no more lounging in the garden. Typically instead of being in the yard for breakfast the Ryelands were all over the place so very slowly the round up began. By the time this butch itinerant shearer arrived we were missing last years lambs, Sandy, Hercules, Maude and Bonny, two ewes, Roxy and Ebony and our Suffolk cross, Meg. Tracey volunteered to walk around the hill to seek them out whilst I kept up a steady supply of tea and chocolate hob nobs for the Shearer Man. Some of you may recognise him, for he is famous, not for being the sheep equivalent of Vidal Sassoon but for being the captain of Hereford Rugby Club.

Whilst Tracey was doing the Bo Peep bit he manfully wrestled the sheep and gave them their annual short back and sides, all the time keeping them calm by singing to them (see photos above and below)

Tracey returned with the missing flockers apart from Meg. Now we have already lost three Suffolks since we have been here, see postings for M.I.A.s to read the full story, and again it looked like Meg was now M.I.A and probably on her way to a pie filling plant, caught up in the annual roundup.

Job done the Shearer Man waived his fee donating it to the Prostate Cancer charity, a big gesture as the amount would have bought him five miles, so many thanks Pritch, you cant sing but you are a generous soul.

Once the sheep were over their trauma they wandered off, cooler if not happy.

Early this evening I took Mad Keith his dinner. Whilst we were chatting a lone sheep wandered down the trail towards the rest of our flock gathered on the technohermits lawn. Meg had returned, safe and crustless. She now has a choice, stay hot all summer or allow me to shear her by handshears, and does anyone remember how that turned out our first year?

The Offas Dyke Ordeal Day 1

We set off from Sedbury Cliffs by 10 am after various false starts due to bad weather, nerves and the need for caffeine. Once on our way we were in high spirits and soon realised as we wandered around various back gardens and alleyways of Chepstow that Offas was as good at plotting the route for a defensive system as MP's are at keeping track of expenses, it just didn't add up. Time and time again we found we were sent the long way round and so progress was slow. Very slow.

Eventually we broke out into the Wye Valley and the Forest of Dean on into Monmouth. By now we were all pretty hungry so finding the only place open, a kebab shop stocked up on calories and pop. This may have been where I picked up a stomach upset that lasted the rest of the trip.

A few quick snaps for the album and we set off aiming to get another 17 miles done before bedtime. This proved a tad ambitious give the hours of daylight left but we managed another 11 before searching for a suitable campsite.

Campsites were few and far between but we located a spot at Llantillo Crossenny (or similar) and planted ourselves for the night. Beth and Tom arrived at 11pm with much needed spaghetti bolognaise and we made ourselves comfortable in our scratches until day two dawned all too quickly.

Day 1. Approx 30 miles. Pack load 41 pound. Start time 10.10 am finish time 22.30 pm

Mission Impossible?

After 6 days, enduring an average of 30 miles per day, Tony and Stuart joined by Sara reached Prestatyn, the great ToDo has been accomplished. We knew it was do-able but those of you who walk regularly will appreciate just how difficult this task was. There was many ups and downs, both physically and emotionally but the determined team rose to the challenge in aid of this worthwhile cause. I couldn't be prouder of them, each of them showing immense strength of character and incredible resilience - this champagne is more than well deserved. We hope to have raised between £1,500 and £2,000 for the Prostate Cancer Charity but will let you know the final total very soon. As you may know, this charity was chosen because unfortunately this illness has affected our family personally so I'd like to thank 'The Team', Tony, Stuart, Sara and Jim for their commitment and determination, they really are very special people and in the words of Queen "The Champions".

And it couldn't have been done without our friends so thank you so much. Unfortunately I didn't get chance to list the remaining sponsors yesterday as I was collecting Tony but thanks go to the following people for their sponsorship

Gemma
Paul and Anne Dockerty
Sam Dockerty
Ken Jones
Derrick and Helen Layton Morris
Amanda and Neil Morgan
Pete Kyle
Lesley and Jess Marsh and Allan
Darren and Shelley Wood and family
Tony and Christine Collier
Keith Wilson and Family
Robin and Jenny Richardson
Sandra and John Gough and family
Kelly Dallow and family
Heath and Emily Crosby
Clive Baker
Adrian Andrew
Sam Barr
Jane Hill
Russell Williams
Alan Jasper