Inspirational

So there I was, plodding along up the track along the side of the Bonsai Mountain and onto the Ridge, my fellow commuters were sheep (two badger faced ones which were new) and my fellow foot slogger Rocky panting away by my side.

Signs of life down in the valley but up on the ridge the Rockmeister and I had it all to ourselves.

And then we spotted Mandy.

Never met her before, will more than likely never meet her again, but what an inspiration she was. Slogging her way up to the ridge line, huge pack with tango rain cover, obviously not out for a stroll. Me in my usual inquisitorial style had to know who why where when and so after a cheery "Hello" dived in with the looks like your set for a major expedition, walking far. Now I expected a Offa's Dyke response, as we were both on the track designated Offa's Dyke but this section is about as Dykish as a rugby pitch. John O'Groats to Lands End. Thats a top trump answer (see our meeting with the top trump walkers in the great TODO) So many questions to ask, but in essence, answers were, day 28, 15 to 20 a day, hope to finish end Sept, carrying all gear so camping out, made redundant so got the time to do it, loving it, mostly and feeling good about the whole venture. Amazing. The Jogle is on my to do list, but time wont allow even an insane attempt on bikes planning 100 miles a day. The great TODO was 30 a day on foot for 6 days, half an idea to do that again, all 180 but in 5 days, do able, but boring, done it. So nows the time to announce that all being well solstice next year will be spent doing the OTT, or the Over The Top, where yours truly and a select few are going to walk from John O'Groats to Cape Wrath, bivvying on the beaches, in 5 days or less. Raising money again for Prostate Cancer Research. Meanwhile good luck to Mandy, what an epic adventure!

Tortoise and the Hare

After skiving off to do the Family Guy bit yesterday it was a massive day here at Rock HQ where the jobs list got whats called a kicking. As so often and in keeping with The Rules Of Smallholding (TROS) each job attempted meant the time spent actually on the job an equally proportionate amount of time had to be spent finding the tools/bits/thingies necessary to complete the task, a similar amount of time then spent keeping other critters away from task in hand and finally the most important rule (aside from always shut the gate) that of for every job done you create two more.

Case in point, move Pamela the Mangaliza sow about to give birth to stable. First find buckets to fill with tempting feed to get pig to follow. Buckets found are all broken, no handled or pink (sorry, not ever going to be seen using pink bucket) Locate macho blue buckets up on Willow Rise where they were dropped while chasing cow the previous morning. Loaded with feed run the gauntlet of Ryelands who are eager to make the load lighter. Drop one bucket off for sheep to savour, thus removed from equation when moving pig. Pigs are released. Mistake. Instead of following second blue bucket up lane into stable they scamper downhill to the feasting flock. There then follows a mad half hour while we separate the woolly backs from the, er.... other bigger woolly backs. Through luck rather than judgement Pamela was finally contained in the stable. Having got our quarry cornered, and totally ignoring the fact that now we had a pig in the garden (Bridget, Pamela's not so pregnant litter mate) pig in pen created two jobs, one being fix big metal gate over hole left by stable door (to answer the immediately obvious, pig would make door into splinters, this needed heavy metal) and muck out stable. Smart arses might comment that the stable should have been mucked out before the pig was put in it, but they don't have the only wheel barrow trapping the goats (long story) (and goats cant be moved until pig has been re homed) and heavy metal gate cant be put in place before pig because once in place it wont move so entry and egress is done by climbing gate, pigs are loathe to climb gates (except in emergency) so in all a sound plan.

Heavy metal gate is held in place by an assortment of heavy metal hinges screwed into the stable wall. To do this we use electric screwdriver once we find it, then find the spare posidrive bit as the brass one we intended using fell off onto the golden barley straw (new take on looking for a needle in a haystack), recharged the battery as none of the four batteries owned by yours truly could be located except the dead one attached to drill. The actual fixing of gate took minutes, but fending off a curious pig which coated itself in the doings of previous occupants of the stable (she did this by lifting the rubber matting, each one weighs over 100 pounds) and rolling in the juices located underneath. As I worked and she watched the ammonia fumes from her were eye watering, but as you can see she was very happy. Gate on, mucked out, no its not over, feed pig, water pig, so fit feeder to gate with climbing carribiner (from previous life) and fetch water drinker thing from pig sty at bottom of holding. Empty trailer, move trailer, get pig out of garden, empty tack room, repair greenhouse, put together whelping box for Reba, move goats, move horses, and then what with feeding everything, ourselves and spending quality time with Tristan its hardly a surprise that paint the annex was ignored in favour of sit down with feet up and watch BBC Countryfile which for the majority of the programme used a long shot of our Bonsai Mountain as a backdrop.>

There was a very interesting bit about Offas Dyke, our backyard, and some chap who in 2003 walked its length in an astonishing 9 days, sometimes doing 20 miles a day, the reporter spoke in awe of this while he (the apprentice tortoise) talked to the trees. I must say I mightily impressed and it made our attempt, The Offas Dyke Ordeal in June 2009, where I walked the 180 miles in 6 days, doing 30 miles a day fuelled mainly by Vimto and a desire to raise a lot of cash for Prostate Cancer Research seem rather ordinary. Still each to his own. Anyone wishing to see the tree man who walked Offas Dyke taking half as long again as what I did should log on to http://www.bbc.co.uk/countryfile and those who want to revisit our epic trek should explore the blog using the labels The Great To Do, or go to the archive, its all there, June 2009, and if it prompts you to donate to Prostate Cancer Research then that's a good thing.

The Great To Do Day 6

Judgement day!
Time to dig deep, five days and over 150 miles would all count for nothing if we failed the final leg. Confidence was high as we posed for photos under the signpost. Without further ceremony we set off. Muscles were sore, feet were even more painful but we were determined to succeed.
Which counted for a lot.
The first six mile we completed in under two hours, despite the hills we were making good time.

But there were many hills in the Clywdd range, some were baby mountains, and we began to slow down.

However we made the Jubilee Tower by midday and had a brief rest, nearly half the distance of the day covered, the sun was shining, the sea was in front of us, admittedly a long way in front of us but every step brought it closer. All we had to do was make the horizon in the picture above and we were on our way home. Success would be ours.

As we began our descent from the tower my right leg refused to move. Not totally, but refused absolutely to tolerate any thought of going downhill. The pain was severe and it took nearly forty minutes to get onto anything that equated to level ground where it was just about tolerable. Progress was literally painfully slow. Stu and Sara disappeared over the hills, not a problem usually, but Stu was carrying the toilet roll. Things could be desperate.

Eventually I caught them up, but only because they had stopped at the bottom of Moel Arther, a particularly steep section which I came down in a crab like shuffle. Thankfully they were tired and we spent over forty five minutes resting. I spent most of that time scouring the map or crouched in the bracken as I had been reunited with the precious bog roll.

I kept telling myself that Joe Simpon had managed to get off a glacier with a broken femur, I therefore would complete the next 14 miles with a sore leg. We got underway, uphill was fine, there was some relief that the downhills were short and eventually we were on the last of the Clywdd range, a huge hill fort.

As we descended I had just enough time to shout out to Stu and Sara that I needed to stop before my leg gave way and they turned in time to see me hit the deck at some speed. Sara, thinking it was a competition immediately followed suit, dropping onto the path and taking 40 winks, Stu rested in a more manly fashion and waited patiently. I tried a very undignified bum shuffle but as a method of completing the last 12 miles it was hopeless. In desperation I looked at the map, the hill ahead might as well have been Everest, there was no way I would get down it, surely we were close to the next village. The relief at finding that we were less than a mile from the road gave me the minerals to manage the pain for another gruelling session and we made our way to the road where a small shop supplied the necessary liquid calories to restore high spirits as we surfed the sugar rush. Only eleven miles to go. A doddle.

It took another four hours and ten minutes. This did include a stop at a pub where I let the side down by drinking a pint of lager and lime. I know, I must have thought I was on holiday or something.

Finally the end was in sight, my legs went a bit like one of those funny marathon runners for a few seconds but I held it together to the end and the photo shoot, the champagne, the cheering crowds. Ok no cheering crowds but the champagne was a nice touch provided by Karen, Stu's better half.

And then it was over. I threw the stone I was carrying from Sedbury Cliffs onto the beach. Any thought of paddling were dismissed as the tide was out, too far to walk. I sat on the granite blocks that mark the start finish and phoned Tracey.

The signpost said we had walked 182 miles. We had started 10.10 7-6-09 and finished 22.22 on 12-6-09. The distance was covered in 72 hours of walking making an average speed of just under 2.5 miles an hour.

We were happy, mission accomplished.

The impossible is nothing.

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

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

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

48 hours to go

With exactly 48 hours to go to the start of The Great To Do, The Offas Dyke Ordeal, there are one or two flies in the ointment of life who are currently doing the backstroke to see how much irritation they can cause before we set off.

The positives are many, we have been overwhelmed by the generosity of sponsors and whilst there are a few left to sell it looks like the target of selling 178 miles will be reached, so many thanks to you all, keep sending your donations though, if you pay enough I will walk back again. Only joking.

Last night we were given a box of boil in the bag rations which included non meat burgers and beans for the picky eater amongst the group, Sara isn't really a veggie, shes just fussy. One bag I am interested in trying is a lamb curry made from halal meat. Army rations have certainly changed from tinned pink gop masquerading as meat.

Fly one is not having a back pack. I will qualify that, I have more rucksacks than you would ever want ranging from a 100 litre with 20 litre side pocket add ons, 20 litre day sacks, 45 litre alpine climbing rucksacks and so on. What I decided I needed for this venture was a 65 litre bag which since I ordered it over a week ago has changed colour (sorry colour advertised no longer available) and is now somewhere between Rock HQ and Wakefield. Quite why is has taken so long to get here is a mystery, as is fly two who has made off with my trousers.

Now I can forget things, mostly like where I put stuff or more commonly to put things away. Just before the BBMC I remembered something about my Craghopper walking trousers. What was it? Ah yes, I have ripped them, a huge tear just over the left leg pocket revealing a very fetching peice of thigh. No problem I will sow it, or not. Not. I forgot, and being a double hard so and so set off into the fierce summer storm with leaky trousers. However, this was not the only hole in them. It was only at the half way stage when I was sat on a grassy knoll surveying the path whilst eating the compulsory cheese and tomato, chatting to passers by, women mainly who were also on the great trek that I remembered the fact that I had ripped my trousers before the obvious leg tear. I was in fact doing my own version of Privates on Parade sat there in the countryside as the crotch had split along the seam. I finished the walk wet and walking funny.

So they needed replacing, and they have been but the two pairs of replacements are now somewhere between here and Scotland, apparently the post room suffered a malfunction and delayed the dispatch of my trousers.

Strange really considering both these items were bought and paid for in the UK whilst a North Face jacket I ordered from Beijing, China, five days ago arrived in good time.

Fingers crossed that my new rucksack arrives tomorrow or I will be faced with the dilemma of which carrier bag to use, Co-op or Aldi. Probably the one that covers the most of my leg.

Take a horse to water

This picture shows you can, Apollo is "helping" fill the plastic boat that doubles as their water trough. Admittedly his help entails knocking the pipe out of the boat forcing yours truly to march back up the hill to put it back before racing back down again to out the other end back on the tap. The too and fro antics could be stopped by the judicious application of a jubilee clip one end and a sharp smack on the nose at the other. Until then the game continues until either the boat fills, Apollo gets bored or I keel over from exhaustion.

Still its all good training for The Great To Do, walking Offas Dyke in 6 days. The news that I am contemplating this trek has had a strange effect on our neighbours. The Oracle when he heard dug deep into his pocket and handed over a well worn fiver as a contribution. I had to promise not to spend it in the first pub I came across along the trail before he let go of it completely.

Mad Keith spotted the Prostate Cancer T shirt I was wearing when I dropped off his chicken and chips tonight. This sparked a fascinating exploration of his medical history which included graphic details of several operations, hugely interesting facts that he got up 8 times in the night to pee and several medical diagrams scratched into the dirt to illustrate certain technical points. During his gleeful descriptions I wondered how my chicken and chips eaten half an hour earlier was managing to remain in place and not add a Technicolour aspect to his anatomical drawings.

By the time I got back to Rock HQ the technohermit had phoned ahead and promised Tracey some money to support the walk as he saw it as ultimately helping him with his little problem. She did look pale when I walked in. It seems Mad Keith had been equally graphic on the phone. I had seen the diagrams and if too scale it was anything but a little problem.

Pocket Rocket in flight

Trevor spent a happy five minutes racing around tonight keeping us all entertained!

The sunshine continues giving us all new challenges, like getting last years shorts to fit or getting the goats to sit in the shade rather than cook in a sunbeam.

I did intend to get another training walk in tonight as The Great To Do is perilously close, but events overtook me and once I had dismantled the barricade constructed by the piglets (who obviously know I am the bacon butties number one fan so they have constructed a two foot deep barrier that prevents access to their sty) watered the garden and horses (very different techniques used here) fetched the goats, rounded up a wandering beagle who set off across the fields on a mission, got lost, panicked and ran in the opposite direction, it left very little time to entertain Mad Keith who appeared on the track with his bicycle and demijohn.

Seems like the weather has dried up his spring, or rather reduced the flow to such a level that its not fit to drink without boiling. Given the amount of wildlife and vegetation that's suspended in it when its at full flow I would consider it sensible not to drink it full stop but he has survived 45 odd years (some very odd) so it cant be too bad. Or hes immune.

Anyway, glass of squash, conversation about how hot it was, second glass of squash, more tales of how its hot, or too cold, never just right he set off with his eight pints of Rock HQ spring water.

By now any hope of exercise had faded along with the daylight so Tracey and I finished the rounds, got the kids inside and had a bacon omelet, all our own work.

Tomorrow I plan to get up early and definitely exercise before anything distracts me.

Chances of that happening?

View from the hill

Back towards five ways crossing on last nights training walk for The Great To Do!

I can see our house from here!

Today I achieved a long held ambition, well an ambition held since we moved to Rock HQ anyway. We are surrounded by the most amazing scenery and today I walked to our horizon and looked back.

It goes without saying that I am dog tired right now after some 20 miles in seven hours, five of which were in horrible weather, the majority of which was across country.

But Sara and I did it and found the standing stones that are only four miles from Rock HQ but have been particularly hard to find as they are situated right next to a main road and clearly visible for miles. How I managed to miss these for the last two years is beyond me and provided a great source of amusement to my walking buddy.

Why did we do this walk today, well its part of a strict training schedule to prepare ourselves for a 178 mile walk in June which we hope to complete in seven days or less. Sara is like the Duracell bunny on acid, totally unstoppable and extremely fit. I used to be able to keep up but as I have fallen victim to middle age spread I struggle to keep to the pace.

The walk is named The Great To Do, or The Offas Dyke Ordeal. Chepstow to Prestatyn via Rock HQ which lies almost on the path around the mid point. I am doing it to raise money for Prostate Cancer Charities.

How we fare, well watch this space!