Our Journey for Josh
Journey for Josh
Introduction
On
Saturday 2nd September and Sunday 3rd September 2017 I
attempted to walk the full length of St Cuthbert’s Way (100+km) in less than 48
hours (sleeping included). St Cuthbert’s Way is a long distance walking route,
normally averaging around 4-5 days to complete. I was undertaking this
challenge with my best mate, Chris Cox (aka Coxy), along with vital support
from my Dad.
My reason for attempting this challenge was twofold: to honour the memory of my beautiful son Josh, and to raise money for Barth Syndrome Trust - a charity very dear to my heart. I have suffered badly with grief and depression in the last 2 years and walking has helped me immeasurably in my darkest times. I have previously completed a 9 mile trek of
DAY 1!
Warm up
and depart
We arrived in
On arrival in
Melrose
Once the warm
up was complete and the banana and date bread had been wolfed down (courtesy of
Rachel!), we were ready to go. Firstly though we needed a photo of us at the
start – cue an excruciating ten minutes explaining to my Dad how my camera
phone worked. We eventually got what we wanted though and we were off!
Section 1
– Melrose
Despite
warning Coxy that the first few miles of the walk out of Melrose Melrose
We settled down to a brisk pace, being careful not to
go haring off and wreck ourselves for later in the day. A wonderful moment came
just after this photo, we dipped into some woodland with our torches still
ablaze and upon leaving the woods were greeted with some glorious dawn light.
It was definitely an excellent motivator 4 miles in!
Upon arrival in Newton St Boswell’s we were shocked to find we were over 90 minutes ahead of schedule. We quickly topped up our water, took some extra fruit and nut and sampled the first of our peanut butter and (Clara Vale!) jam sandwiches.
Things were
going smoothly. Too smoothly. Approximately 10 seconds after this photo was
taken (note it is now a selfie – my Dad’s services as team photographer have
been dispensed of) we encountered our first hurdle. My Dad pulled away and we
both noticed the flat ‘clunk-clunk’ from his front tyre. Yes, our support
vehicle, that we were relying on for water, food and moral support throughout
the weekend, had suffered a puncture 5 miles in. Luckily we were 100 yards from
a garage. Unluckily it was 7am on a Saturday morning and said garage wasn’t
open until 9am. We decided the best course of action was to plough on and hope
that the car was fixed by the time we reached Harestanes (approximately 11 miles
away).
Section 2 – Newton St Boswell’s to Harestanes - the roman road : 11 miles
As the photo
above shows, spirits weren’t dampened by the early setback and we settled into
a good rhythm and started to appreciate the beautiful surroundings that the
walk was taking in. This section of the walk hugged the river for the first
section and provided us with glimpses of several river dwelling creatures (and
also logs, which much to Coxy’s amusement I mistook for several seconds to be a
male deer lying down).
The second
section of the walk took us onto the ancient Roman road of Dere Street
For much of
this section we were in regular contact with my Dad who had had to take a trip
from Newton St Boswell’s to Galashiels in an attempt to fix the busted tyre,
and it was looking more likely that we would time it perfectly and end up
meeting at Harestanes. This was a massive relief as for the first time we were
beginning to realise how important it was to keep regularly topped up with food
and water (both of which we were running short of).
We topped up
with bacon sarnies and tuna pasta, as well as refilling water bottles and
adding flapjack (the best flapjack we have ever tasted again courtesy of Rachel) and more fruit and
nuts. The break at Harestanes allowed us to loosen our boots for a few minutes
and change into fresh socks.
It must be
said, at around 13 miles in, we both felt strong, and confident that maybe this
wasn’t going to be as difficult as we had first feared.
Oh how wrong
we were!
Section 3
– Harestanes to Morebattle (via Cess(pit)ford) – the guidebook lies! : 12 miles
Everyone who
I had spoken to about this walk warned me that the biggest struggle would likely be a mental one, as opposed to the
physical difficulty. As someone who has struggled immensely in the last 18 months
with grief, depression and anxiety I was very aware that this might be a
weakness for me. Luckily Coxy is the ying to my yang and is a constant ball of
energy and positivity. I genuinely would not have been able to complete this
challenge or get through the last 18 months without his support.
However both
of us soon realised that this section of the walk was really going to test us.
After miles of stunning scenery and ever changing terrain the section to
Morebattle was farmer’s field after farmer’s field. To say it was mind
numbingly tedious is an insult to paint watching. The only thing that kept us
going at this point was the GPS tracker and hoping it would soon reach 10 miles
(the expected distance from Harestanes to Morebattle according to the guide
book).
As we
approached the fabled 10 mile mark our spirits began to rise and the thought of
taking our boots off, having a slice of cake and a cold can of pop filled us
with hope! As the GPS snuck past 10.5 miles we began to question the distance
left. Every corner seemed to bring hope that we would spot Morebattle. Each
step at this point, for the first time, was an effort. We decided to consult
the guidebook. Harestanes to Morebattle: 10 miles. We double checked the GPS.
10.8 miles in. Someone was lying to us. Coxy used good old Google to check the
walking distance from our location (a tiny village called Cessford – later
nicknamed Cesspit) to Morebattle. The answer flew back – over 1.5 miles and
another 45 minutes of walking at least. This may not seem much now, but at the
time it was a body blow, both physically and mentally. It was the first time in
the walk that our mental strength was challenged.
There was
only one option – one foot in front of the other, repeat ad infinitum. This
would become a regular occurrence throughout the second day but this was the
first time we experienced the true difficulty of a walk of this magnitude.
Section 4 Morebattle to Kirk Yetholm - aka the
climb of doom! : 7 miles
The last
section of the first day had (literally) been looming in front of us ever since
planning was finalised. This section was the hardest of the whole walk
rising to the walk’s highest point (and also marking midway between Melrose and Holy Island ).
Despite assurances from the locals in Morebattle that the climb wasn’t as
difficult as the one out of Melrose
Eventually
though we made it to the top of the climb and proudly looked out for miles from
our vantage point. The day was as clear as could be and we were able to spot
way off on the horizon, the twin peaks we had climbed through hours earlier on
leaving Melrose
As we began
to descend down into Kirk Yetholm, where we would be spending the night, we
received a most welcome phone call. Dave, a best mate of both of ours, was in
the area and was planning on walking up to meet us. Dave and his missus (Carla)
were also booked into the same B and B as us for the evening. This was an
incredible boost and certainly helped us through the next mile or so. Dave
managed to get (slightly) lost and so didn’t quite catch us until we were back
in the valley – which did mean he avoided climbing any hills, a coincidence I
am sure!
Just when we
thought Kirk Yetholm would never appear, Dave assured us there was less than a
mile to go. He also did us the great honour of asking us both to be his best
men – he had asked Carla to marry him not 3 hours previous! This was a totally
unexpected surprise and certainly carried us into Kirk Yetholm in a better frame
of mind than would have been the case otherwise.
Arrival at
base camp first night – 35 miles walked in 14 hours – 21.08 min/mile
We arrived
into Kirk Yetholm at 7.15pm (an hour and a quarter ahead of schedule) to an
incredibly warm welcome from our hosts at Mill House Bed and Breakfast. The
hosts went out of their way to accommodate us – including searching high and
low for a hot water bottle for me (one was eventually located two villages
away). I cannot thank them enough for their superb facilities and welcoming
nature. It certainly made our stay as relaxing as possible.
After a warm
down, a long hot shower and an assessment of feet (8 blisters for me, none for
Coxy) we headed to the local pub for as much pasta as we could eat in one
sitting. By 9pm we were flat out in bed, ready for a 5am start the next
morning.
Day
2!
Section 1
Kirk Yetholm to the College
Valley
A 5am start
morphed into a 6am departure (a little treat to ourselves after making such
good time on day 1) which had the added bonus of meaning the torches would not
be needed today (or so we thought!).
The morning
brought with it a beautiful sunrise and we felt as fresh as could be expected and
ready to take on day 2. A massive bonus was Dave’s revelation that he would be
joining us for the first half of the day until Wooler. On a purely practical
level this meant an extra pair of shoulders to help with the rucksack!
Physically I
felt good leaving Kirk Yetholm and mentally I felt strong and was looking
forward to the second day of our challenge.
The College
Valley
Somehow
between the three of us we had missed a waymarker and taken a wrong turn.
Because the signage had been so good the previous day we had set off without
the GPS turned on and hadn’t consulted the map in the guidebook. We dug out the
guidebook, and with the added help of Google maps, figured out that we were the
opposite side of the hills from where we needed to be. Using GCSE map reading
skills that would make our old Geography teachers proud (looking at you Mr
Stanbury!) we plotted a new route which would bring us back onto St Cuthberts
Way a mile outside of Wooler.
This was a
good plan in theory, but in practice the wrong turn and failure to stick to the
route felt like a big setback. It also badly affected my mood and for the first
time negative thoughts began to creep into my mindset.
At this point
I was thinking about the miles still to cover (around 18) and feeling very
defeatist. I barely spoke for an hour as I tried to battle the malicious negativity swirling through my head. We walked for around 2 miles on quiet B roads until we hit the main
road into Wooler. The plan had been to follow this all the way into Wooler, but
a lack of a suitable footpath and a general growing hatred of all things tarmac
encouraged us to find an alternative route using a nearby bridleway. This
change in scenery and terrain seemed to have a positive impact on all of us and
helped us to gather ourselves for the last push into Wooler.
We were met
in Wooler by Carla who had raided a local supermarket and bought every single
type of blister care product available. This was hugely appreciated as at
this point I counted half a dozen blisters on each foot ranging in size from a
5p piece to 50p piece. Both Coxy and I were limping badly (on both feet!) and
were finding every step a struggle.
We spent a
good half an hour in Wooler trying to refuel and take stock. We calculated that
we had a good 16-18 miles of walking left and were on schedule to arrive on Holy Island for 8.30pm. It is difficult to explain just
how difficult we were both finding it at this point – I think what got us both
through was the strength we drew from each other, if this had been a solo
expedition I am not sure how long either of us would have lasted.
Section 3 – Wooler to St Cuthbert’s Cave – A tunnel of
pain : 9 miles
We set off
from Wooler as low as we had felt for the whole of the walk. We were both
limping heavily, Coxy was struggling with his ankle and my blisters were
causing a lot of discomfort. The change of socks and reapplication of Vaseline
and other blister treatment did not have the required effect and only provided
the lightest of relief for less than a mile.
I am sure
that the next 9 miles provided us with lots of opportunity for scenic photos
and the like, but for Coxy and I we may as well have been in a tunnel. A tunnel
of pain. All we could think about was taking the next step, followed by the next,
followed by the next. Conversation was muted and the only words spoken were to
pass the water to each other.
Around 2
miles from St Cuthbert’s Cave, we seemed to get a second wind. Conversation
returned (mainly revolving around what embarrassing stories we could tell as
part of our best men’s speech for Dave) and we felt our determination return.
I had visited St Cuthbert’s Cave a few months earlier
with my missus and son, Jamie. It was during a week’s holiday in Belford when I
was in a really bad place with my grief and depression. The week away with my
family seemed to refocus me, pulling me partially out of the gloom surrounding
me. The visit to St Cuthbert’s Cave was the first time I had the idea to do
this walk; it was where the seed was first planted. As Coxy and I approached
the cave, these happy memories came flooding back as well as many memories of
my beautiful Joshy. These memories filled me with a confidence that I would be
able to make it through the last few miles of this challenge.
Section 4
– St Cuthberts Cave
to Lindisfarne Priory – The end is in sight
(feat the causeway from hell) : 9 miles
The last
section of the walk saw us leave St Cuthbert’s Cave and begin climbing again.
Upon cresting this latest ridge we had our first glimpse of our final
destination – Holy Island glistening in the
evening sun. Before we could get to excited however we had several fields to
cross full of cows and worryingly all with signs warning us of the bull in the
field. Cows had been a constant menace on the walk, several times forcing us to
skirt around the perimeter of fields to avoid antagonising them. This time
though the path took us straight through a large group, including several young
calves. What’s the worst that can happen we thought? Well, two of the
cows charging at us wasn’t at the top of our wish list. We beat a hasty retreat
and were forced to find an alternative route around. This involved trekking
across some boggy peatland, a lot of heather and jumping several rusty barbed
wire fences. Eventually though we re-found the path and carried on our way. In
one sense this unexpected encounter of the bovine kind gave us a much needed
shot of adrenaline and allowed us to arrive at our last stop in Fenwick relatively
easily.
After some
assistance crossing the a1 from my Dad (neither of us trusted our decision
making at this point) we began the final stretch to Holy
Island . The pain really was awful now, we were definitely
extremely grateful for the walking sticks, which had given us support
throughout the walk. As we hobbled our way to the East Coast mainline and then
the Holy Island causeway our spirits rose
slightly in the knowledge that we would soon be with our loved ones and more
importantly (!) with a pint in hand.
Upon reaching
the Holy Island Causeway we allowed ourselves a high five and a metaphorical
pat on the back, thinking that we were less than 20 minutes from finishing.
This was another misjudgement on our part. The Holy Island
causeway is 3 miles in length (it didn’t seem that long when I drove it!) and
this revelation crushed us. At the speed we were going it would take us another
hour and a half to finish. With the night closing in and fearing we wouldn’t
make it before sunset we made a frantic call to my Dad to meet us on the
causeway so we could lose the rucksack and get our torches (turns out we did
need them again!).
Those last 3
miles are one of the hardest physical experiences of my life. I couldn’t stop
for fear of keeling over, and every step was now sending shooting pains from my
toes up to my lower back. There was no relief from the pain and it seemed the
road had turned into a treadmill. There was no change in the road just a
constant sweep around to the right which never seemed to bring the island any
closer. Of course, the weather then took a turn for the worse with the wind
picking up and a sea fret closing in. As with anything though time will
eventually pass and after what seemed like a decade we eventually heard voices
coming towards us from ahead. It was our respective partners, my Dad and most
importantly for me my little boy, Jamie. They supported us through the last ¾
mile to the priory and our finishing photo. We were even able to head back the
way we had come to the pub for a well earned beer.
The feelings
upon finishing were mainly ones of relief, coupled with exhaustion. There was
no euphoria or sense of accomplishment. That came later. In the immediate
aftermath we were simply ‘knackered’. Plans to sit down for food and drink
several beers were quickly shelved after neither of us could finish our first
pints (virtually unheard of!).
There are a
number of people without whom I would not have been able to complete this walk.
Thanks to Coxy, not just for this walk but for the last 15 years being the best
mate a fella could ask for. Thanks to my Dad for providing first class support
vehicle support as well as ongoing support for me and the whole family. Thanks
to everyone else who supported us on this walk including (but in no particular
order) – Carla, Dave, Rachel and Rita, the staff at the Mill House B and B.
Thanks again to everyone who has donated on the Justgiving page. Most importantly though
a huge thankyou to my beautiful fiancé, Claire and my handsome little man,
Jamie. They have been my pillars of strength when times got tough and without
them it is safe to say I don’t think I would be here now. I love them with all
my heart and soul.
Lastly to my gorgeous superhero Josh. You will never be forgotten. Mammy and Daddy and Jamie love you to the moon and back for ever and ever and ever.
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