Reflections on a long run.

"There was a time when meadow, grove and stream,
The earth and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and freshness of a dream".

Like a good Coast Path runner, I tripped over this quotation a few days before travelling down from Camberley to Minehead. It's from Wordsworth's "Ode on Intimations of Immortality" and in many ways it seems to capture the essence, the heart and soul of the forbidding Coast Path, particularly during periods of benign weather! It touches upon the wonder of the place and could probably serve as an anthem for St Ives with its "artists' light".Hence the attraction for me combined with the more prosaic challenge of the soaring, undulating cliffs, the fields, the beaches, the fishing villages and the skies, whatever their mood.

But although I was going to be prancing around the cliff tops like some demented idiot, all the while, uppermost in my mind, was the funding we might raise to help alleviate the stricken conditions of  Great Ormond Street's Sick Children. And linked to this was the vital umbilical communication cord (courtesy of  Nokia and Orange) twixt Pat and me to keep us on the not-always-straight-and-sometimes-very-narrow.

The highs and lows of the enterprise were many and varied but although we thought we had planned meticulously for every contingency there were two which knocked us for six, i.e., weather and  injuries. And I mean the kind of injury which could easily have jeopardised the whole project.Our early days were severely hit by the tail-end of hurricane Irene; we had thunderstorms to contend with over Port Isaac (where someone must have upset Doc Martin again) and then there was the sea mist and fog over Peak Hill at Sidmouth. I couldn't see the path, I couldn't see the cliff edge. How scary was that? When I got my compass out even the sheep were asking for a bearing! As for running down the stepped paths, I had to forget it. They were as deadly as gin-traps. Every stride had to be carefully calibrated and every blast of wind anticipated. Yes, wind AND fog at the same time. Work that one out!

As for the injuries, you are probably as much acquainted with them as me, if you've been following the blog, and you can see how they gobbled up so much time (a) by their impact and (b) by the need to transport them across Cornwall and Devon to the physios who had no trouble in diagnosing the dreaded medical condition known technically as Achilles Knackeritis. How about the degree of difficulty for running the Coast Path? In crude terms, compared with a standard city marathon and being assisted by a back-up team of only one person, you could probably increase the difficulty and time by a factor of at least 50% to 75%.

On the positive side, when the sun had his hat on it was as if we were on a different planet, running to a new zippy rhythm (try spelling that at 11pm without a dictionary!) which put a spring in my step. The contrast between the gun metal grey, doom-laden skies and the dazzling, electrifying turquoise of the sunshine waves was astonishing.   Out came the local dog-walkers and after a few minutes discourse, out came the wallets too, for spontaneous giving. There were as many notes as there were autumn leaves. The  small, isolated  fishing villages of rugged Cornwall were so picturesque as to seem unreal but then some of the ports like megabusy Mevagissey and Portdoc Martin looked as though they had been hijacked by the militant wing of the local Tourist Board! Then there were the jolly ferrymen who took me across the high seas free, gratis and for nothing and the even jollier inn-keepers who took sufficient pity on a weary traveller as to provide me with their finest Coast Path ales, at no cost. So you see, it's worthwhile training for a year and running 630 miles for a charity!

Then there were the many colourful characters I met all along the length of the Path who drew  long-lasting inspiration from their surroundings or simply enjoyed the relaxation of a leisurely stroll. They were from all walks of life (pun intended) and only too happy to immerse themselves  in a landscape of ever-changing shades and hues and to empathise with the prime purpose of my run and support the cause for Great Ormond Street Hospital with the most generous of donations.

But let's bear in mind the fact that this path, the longest national trail in the UK, does not look after itself. We are extremely grateful to the South West Coast Path Association for all the work that their volunteers do to ensure that fortunate people like us, who are in good health, can enjoy the experience of walking/running this outstanding Path. To pursue your interest in the Path please log on to: http://www.southwestcoastpath.org.uk/ who can provide you with more information than you could throw a stick at. There's geography, geology,history,ornthology, omnibusology, B&B-ology, souvenirology.....and more! The annnual guide is an absolute jewel packed with relevant and entertaining advice and is a must for serious walkers/runners. Join up today!

But the greatest joy for me was the final "sprint" along sunlit Studland Beach to be met by the running skallywag granddaughters, Maddie, 9 and Lucy, 8 (who immediately tried to coerce me into building sand- castles) and the kernel of close friends and relatives who, like all the bloggers and supporters who shared the North Downs training schedules and the Coastal Path with us, contributed so much in both material ways and in affection. I am also heavily indebted to those who supplied us with regular comments. When you're trying to run through a force 8 gale, and the wind is clawing at your clothing on the cliff tops, horizontal rain almost blinding and you've lost your way in the fog and mist, it's so comforting and reassuring when you know that someone actually cares! It seemed to be a journey shared and appreciated by all of us and for that we will always be so grateful to everyone, especially my fellow members of the Arena Leisure Centre, Camberley and all those who so selflessly provided us with accommodation for the duration. "We're all in this together", springs to mind!

But if you will excuse us, the front page photographer for the "Camberley News" now beckons together with the 5th local radio interview. Vanity? Well, yes. But anything to swell the coffers of G.O.S.H.  And, for the last time............ so to bed!

PS (from Pat)
We've now raised over £4000 for GOSH. This far exceeds our expectations and is just fantastic. Our enormous thanks to everyone who has helped in any way.  We'll post final amounts on the just giving website after a few more weeks.

Some more photos, just click the link!
https://picasaweb.google.com/117503717555453911364/JackSDashSept2ndOct1st2011630Miles#

PS  A mystery! Could the delightful couple (from Plymouth) who so generously offered to accommodate us for a night or two, please get in touch privately by email, as we have mislaid their contact number.Many thanks, jack.guthrie@talktalk.net

Day 30: Sat. 1st Oct. Swanage to South Haven Point, Studland Bay.

Sprint finish!

                                                                                          

The end is nigh with just one more hill to climb over Old Harry Rocks.. Looking west from the summit I could see the sweep of Swanage Bay way down below me, for all the world like closing a door on the past 29 days, days of isolated splendour mixed with days of  harrowing even horrifying danger atop dizzy vertiginous cliffs and their vain quest to defend themselves from the interminable erosion of the wild Atlantic swells.

Meanwhile, looking East through the warmest October heat haze for some 30 years, the beckoning golden sands of Studland Bay were full of the promise of a fun-loving reunion with family and friends, with 2 scallywag grandaughters determined that my reception should go with a big splash! And so it did. Emotions were on a high as I breasted the improvised finishing tape (to come first and last in the event!), picnics and drinks abounded under an astonishigly cloudless blue sky. Here also were the stalwarts who had given us such tremeandous support throughout the month and who had travelled long distances to give us the warmest of welcomes and made every inch of the Great Journey absolutely worth all the effort. What a moment to savour; what a moment to remember.Our sincere thanks and gratitude go out to everyone who "brought us home" and to all those who contributed so generously to Great Ormond Street Hospital's endless funding quest.

PS  Although this was the last of our daily blogs, I intend writing a summary in the next day or two so, for the moment, there is no escape! (we'll also add a few more photos).