I Would Walk 1000 Miles

That question comes up a lot when I tell people that I walk for upwards of 8 hours each day. The other question is “what is the biggest problem you have” or “what is the best / worst thing to happen”. Graham Mack never seems to tire of asking me these questions when he calls me each week for the breakfast show on TFM so I’ll try to answer them here for those who don’t live in the broadcast area.

The thinking thing varies. A lot of the time I’m thinking about blog posts, and how I can relay to you lot on here and on the tour blog how I’m doing and what it’s all like. Sometimes I’m thinking how much further I can walk in the damn rain until I reach shelter of have to unpack a waterproof. I confess that a lot of the time I do still think about “the ex” and how it all fell apart and what minuscule fraction of a percentage chance I have of getting back with her and if there is genuinely a number that close to zero as to actually exist.

I think about what I’m looking at, how far I have to go and how much my shoulders hurt. My feet don’t hurt too much any more - thanks to all who keep asking! I think about the kids in Vietnam. I know this sounds “obvious” or maybe a little soppy but they really do keep me going. That’s what the walk’s about and I do spend a few minutes here and there remembering the little blighters making a complete fool of me at football. And beating me at Jenga. And being cheeky. And tickling me.

Hey, why am I helping them again?
Right now I’m so close to my goal that I have that annoying, aching, “so far but not quite” feeling. One entire hemisphere of my brain seems to be having the same effect of a busload of 7-year-olds all screaming “are we there yet!?” behind a driver who’s taken them from Bognor Regis to Bratislava. I am so near, but still have just a little bit too far to go to feel complete relief yet. It’s almost a physical pull in the chest. Imagine that feeling you get around 3pm on a Friday afternoon when you have the best weekend in the world lined up but you can’t leave till 5:30. Now magnify.

I have also tried counting steps and comparing them to my pedometer to see if 1 mile on there really matches 1.6km on the road, but my stride and its reckoning are out. Or I lose count. But it does while away the time. If my mind wanders in unexpected directions I dig out my notebook and jot some things down. These random brain dumps often make their way into blog postings somewhere.

What are my problems? One is the above - thinking about Louise far too often. Well, you asked. Another is how sick I’m getting of camping. From now on it is reserved purely for festivals! I may relax this rule should I ever get or have to look after kids. That could be fun. But I’ll have an inflatable mattress if I ever camp again. I’m sure I’ve permanently bruised my hip bone. My feet are as fine as can be expected after the agony and disfigurement around Turin. They ache a bit and I sometimes get blisters (I think the pair of socks I wear actually makes a difference) but nothing serious. My shoulders also aren’t as bad as they were, but are still the most frequent excuse for me to stop for a break.

As for the “best / worst” things… Tough. The worst was the pain when I got to Turin, or perhaps losing a load of pictures and video when my camera’s memory card fritzed. The best was probably getting to the top of the mountain pass in the Gran Paradiso two hours behind schedule and not dying. Or meeting and being hosted by such amazing people. None of them knew me from that guy in chapter one of the Bible. You know, the one with the apple fetish. Yet every one opened their doors, fold-down sofas and larders to the mad Englishman with the smelly feet.

If you’ve yet to host me and I’m heading your way, please ignore the bit about smelly feet.

I hope that answers some of your questions. Like I said, those are the most common ones. If you have any more, click on the comments button and ask, ask, ask!

This is the most common question at the moment. How far have I walked? Well, I spent some time this evening going over this. I’ve checked my readings from the pedometer and compared them against Google Maps as closely as I can follow the route I walked. Allowing for differences, averages, skipped corners, map inaccuracies, pedometer inaccuracies and so forth… 962.29 miles. This means I should pass the 1000 mile mark by the time I reach Utrecht!

Here we go. The last country. One more horizontal trek and I hit the big wet space surrounding old Blighty. I can almost taste the salty air! Or maybe that’s the remains of the KFC I scoffed…

Gelsenkirchen was my scheduled stop here, but I couldn’t get accommodation in this actual borough. Instead I walked through to Gladbeck. A huge thank you to Antjé, Jana and Niko for their hospitality here. These folk aren’t even couchsurfers - they only knew to expect me as Manfred from Röetgen called them and told them I was a friend stuck for somewhere to stay in the area. I had to explain about my walk (that got some open mouths and slack jaws) and about the whole couchsurfing thing. They thought I’d met him in England when he was working there a couple of years ago!

Despite all this, I was treated like one of the family. Folks - thank you so much.

I was hoping to get a shot of me with a “twinned with Newcastle” sign on the way into Gelsenkirchen but I suppose they can’t have them on every road. Annoyingly I passed about three on the way into Gladbeck, but I’m not too fussed about a sign that says “twinned with Enfield”.

While in the area I did get to see the amazing Veltins Arena, home to FCShalke04. The guided tour was all in German, but a beautiful young local (Kathleen) kindly translated everything for me so I didn’t miss out. unfortunately getting a ticket for the game wasn’t a possibility as the few remaining seats were far too expensive. I settled for seeing the game in a bar with some of the locals. Shalke won 3-0 so it was a good day for everyone!

Again, I was irked by the lack of signs as I wanted a “Welcome to Holland” one for my collection (of photos - I’m not carrying road signs home) but at length I did enter the Netherlands and my first city stop within the country of Arnhem. There I was met by Tamara who would be my host for a couple of nights while I did the tourist thing. First stop was the local KFC where I indulged in a Mexican Wrap. This is a foodstuff, not Latino gangsta music. But I kind of like that idea. I feel a novelty number one hit coming on…

I spent the rest of the evening fixing her PC so no evil nasties (like Norton Internet Security *spit*) remained on it.