SWCP – Postscript

Me at Land’s End

Lessons Learned

So, that’s another long distance walk (LDW) under my belt, this one being 20+ miles (33km) and a full day longer than the Pennine Way (PW), with 7,500 feet (2,330m) more ascent. And I took camping gear this time, increasing my average pack weight by 8lbs (3½kg). Bearing in mind that this was a practice for the greater challenge of walking from Land’s End to John o’ Groats (LEJOG) next year, what lessons have I learned from this one, if any?

Physical stresses

The most important lesson, I think, is that I need to take measures to avoid a repeat of the stress fracture. There are a number of things that’ll help in that regard:

• Incorporate rest days. I deliberately planned no rest day this time just to see if I could hack it, on the principle that you get fitter as you go along. Had it worked out, I would have allowed few, if any, rest days for LEJOG, whereas now I’ll add one for every seven days of walking, approximately.
• Carry less weight. For the SWCP I reduced the weight of non-camping gear so that, once tent, sleeping mat and bag, Jetboil and food had been added, I would only be taking 3½kg over the weight of my PW backpack, which was 10kg. Without camping gear, I’d now hope to reduce the pack weight to around 8kg.
• My fitness level for the SWCP was pretty good, thanks to walks to and from work, using the cross-trainer, doing regular press-ups and practice walks, but I’d originally intended to lose another 5-6lbs (2½kg) in weight, down to 12½ stone (80kg). That’ll be my aim for next year.
• I probably didn’t have enough calcium in my diet; I’m eating more cheese and yoghurt now to help fix the stress fracture, and will try to maintain that level of consumption.
• Take it easy. LEJOG will start off with the northern side of the SWCP, including the notorious ascents around Bude and Lynton, but there’ll be no need for me to walk against the clock or to overtake everyone in sight. Take a deep breath and avoid strains and stresses.
• Consult an orthotics bod. And do exercises specifically aimed at strengthening the anterior tibialis. And maybe get a calf support/compression thingy.

Fluid

On hot days, particularly those with many hills to climb, I was tending to run short of fluid. I’ve already bought a 2 litre Camelbak to replace the 1½ litre one I’ve been using, to complement the 600ml bottle on a Quechua shoulder holster I use for isotonic and the reserve 500ml plastic bottle that I only fill on longer/hotter days. That ought to suffice, particularly if I manage to find the opportunity to buy coffee and/or beer most days. Yes, yes, I know coffee’s a diuretic and therefore not good for re-hydration, but I’m an addict.

Boots

Thorny subject. As I’ll be walking in late spring and summer, lightweight footwear would make sense, but I want good ankle support and I would prefer to keep water out on wet days. I have no problem with wearing stout boots in warm weather, so I’ll probably go with my Altberg Tethera. In the highly unlikely case that next summer proves to be as dry as this one, I might be persuaded to wear the lighter but porous Salomons in the south, as long as Liz can bring out the Altberg a) if the weather changes and b) before I venture up into the boggy North.

Waterproofs

This raises the allied question of how to improve overall impermeability. I only had a day and a half of drizzle on the SWCP and no heavy rain at all, yet my kit still failed. The Mountain Equipment Lhotse jacket was fine, but the idea of wearing quick-drying nylon shorts with gaiters only held up for a couple of hours. And the draw-cord on one of the gaiters snapped. I now have new Rab gaiters to wear under a pair of lightweight Berghaus waterproof trousers in rain, or just with shorts when they only have to contend with long, wet grass. Or is it worth considering, in summer, switching to walking sandals and quick-drying materials and just getting wet?

Ticks

I guess I’ve been fortunate not to have experienced a tick through wearing shorts, but I do carry a tick removal tool. I don’t think I can be persuaded to switch to long trousers in summer – except, perhaps, by a tick. Snag is, I don’t have the patience to check my legs routinely at the end of each day. Maybe that’s a lesson I still have to learn.

Elevation measurement

Next lesson – don’t rely on the Viewranger app for measuring ascent on walks. It’s ok when you plot a route on the Viewranger website, using your pc or laptop, because the amount of ascent is calculated on the basis of countours crossed on OS 1:25000 maps, with a small error margin due to the gradients occurring within the contours. I found that the ascent given on the app at the end of a walk was at least 50% greater than measured on the planned route so, for example, Lulworth to Swanage is around 3,800 feet on the map, but nearer 5,800 feet on your phone when you’ve walked it. This gave me palpitations when I started to think that I’d have to increase the Bude section next year to close on 7,000 feet, until I read about the inaccuracy of gps elevation readings. 4,300 feet over a distance of 15 miles is quite enough, but do-able – especially when I’ve just done 4,000 feet of ascent over 21 miles with a stress fracture! So, don’t panic and trust your original estimate.

Food

Ever since 1976 I’ve taken too much food on walks. In fact my entire life is organised around food and any plans I make must incorporate meals as a sine qua non. Even on the SWCP I carried evening meals and enough muesli and coffee for every night I planned to spend camping, daily rations  and cereal bars for each day of the week ahead, supplemented by bread, cheese and apples as I deemed necessary. Were I slightly less anal, I could take just one day’s rations and rely on buying daily replacements, further reducing my pack weight. One of the difficulties with doing that is the lack of reliable information on the Web about local shops in villages, due partly, no doubt to their closure rate. I know there are those who would say ‘man up, take a risk, go hungry for a while’, but I’ve tried that and it doesn’t enhance enjoyment of the walk. I’m sure there’s a happy compromise possible, one that would allow me to take less food but enough to sustain energy and concentration levels.

Rucksack

I won’t want to take the Bergans Helium rucksack again, and not just because 55 litres will be too big. Perhaps the single most irritating thing on the SWCP and my practice walks was the squeaking noise made by the fabric stitched around the rucksack’s metal frame as it slid up and down. I tried oil and silicone spray, but it made no difference. I’ll either revert to the 45 litre Highlander, which works quite well for me, or, if that’s too big, check out something like the Osprey Exos 38 or Stratos 36. Or perhaps the Lowe Alpine AirZone Pro 35-45 for its flexibility. I have to take account of the fact that I want to camp on four consecutive nights at the start of the PW, after which I’ll leave camping and cooking gear to be collected; that means I’ll either need a rucksack with compression straps that can expand to accommodate the extra gear, or have straps to enable it to be attached above and below.

Walking Stick

I have a love-hate relationship with sticks. I will NOT use poles under any circumstances, and I always end up losing sticks, which I find pretty annoying anyway. Having said that, they are a help on steep, stepped descents, on boggy ground as a depth gauge and for poking the noses of yappy dogs. I’ll probably take and lose one again. Is it worth buying an expensive Leki stick to encourage me to look after it better?

Hankies

I lost so many hankies on the SWCP that a walking forum correspondent queried how I’d achieve an 8kg pack weight when I’ll need to allow 2kg for hankies! Maybe I’ll just switch pockets and have one protruding from my breast pocket like Poirot, where at least I should be able to keep an eye on it!

Accommodation

The experience at Newton Ferrers, where the farm advertising a campsite on the Web had decided to stop providing space for tourers and campers and was instead erecting chalets, has taught me that, even if I’m not booking ahead, I still need to confirm availability. I’ll start booking b&bs before Christmas for particular pinch-points where there are few, if any, alternatives available.

In conclusion, then, I’m feeling upbeat about my ability to get started on LEJOG and, once I get started, I’ll be pretty determined to complete it.  I just need to fix my leg in the same way I fixed my knees prior to doing the PW. Wish me luck!

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SWCP Day 15 – Stoke Fleming to Brixham

Having requested breakfast at 8 o’clock, waking up at 8.10 is a bit embarrassing. Excuses? It’s a comfortable bed, we’re both well relaxed after a pleasant evening and I was pretty tired after yesterday’s walk. Whereas I had been shaving an hour off the estimated timings on the master plan, yesterday I overran by 10 minutes, partly due to my shin strain and, unfortunately, the otherwise excellent night’s sleep hasn’t completely fixed my leg. What’s more, it’s raining again and, although my walk to Brixham today will be under 13 miles, packed into that distance are 3,400 feet of ascent, the most of any day thus far. Our host warns of the steep hills just before Brixham, to which I give my stock response: that I’ve seen plenty of those already. His wife, thinking him guilty of schadenfreude, shushes him, but she needn’t worry, with just four days of walking left I’m not going to be deterred now.

Having to pack up our luggage means that it’s 10 o’clock before I’m squeezing the car out of the toothpaste-tube driveway and giving Liz a farewell hug just before 10.30. The walk starts off innocuously enough on tarmac for half a mile and, with gaiters fitted and waterproof jacket on, I’m feeling more or less impregnable. The shin niggle takes off whatever shine the day might have had, causing a very slight limp and, before Dartmouth, the path takes the first of many random excursions down and back up a cliff. There are slippery rocks to contend with too, but my pace to Dartmouth isn’t too bad, close to my overall average for the SWCP of  2¾mph. Just after noon I find the café at Dartmouth Castle and take a break, glad to shed rucksack and jacket for a while because, although the Llotse has good breathability, my back’s always wet beneath the rucksack even when not enclosed. At this stage, after apricot flapjack and a coffee, I’m still fairly upbeat but, however much the path ascends, things start to go downhill from this point.

Firstly, there’s the customary paucity of signage for the coast path in towns, and this even extends to signs for the ferry, so that I overshoot it and have to do an about turn. The ferry itself is the worst of the trip, as you have to stand cheek-by-jowl with vehicles and there really isn’t enough room to wriggle through with a rucksack on. In Kingswear I miss the path and climb steeply up the road, rejoining it a few hundred yards on. Then, not long after encountering long grass again, my feet are squelching even with gaiters on, so the ingress of water can’t be attributed to wicking via the socks – they’re simply not waterproof. Salomon Quest Prime are fine in dry weather, relatively lightweight and with good grip, but that’s it, I’ve now fallen out with them for long distance walks and will switch to the Altberg Tethera in future. There’s the continuing random meandering up and down cliffs, perhaps to test the resolve and weed out the spineless among would-be SWCP completers. In some cases I can see that the diversions may be intended to show off the relics of military fortifications and gun batteries but, personally, I’m not that interested in evidence of man’s inhumanity to man, there being all too many instances of that in current affairs. I’m repeatedly surprised at the number of walkers out here today, especially family groups, in really poor weather and on such arduous paths. One group has a petite lady who must be around 80 years old, battling with spirit up steep, narrow paths with precipitous drops alongside, described as ‘Challenging – arduous’ on the SWCP website.

“You’ve picked a right good day for your walk, haven’t you?” I tell them.

“So have you!” responds a feisty woman from their ranks.

The drizzle persists, as does my shin strain, so that, by the time I reach the climbs before Brixham of which I was forewarned, I’m fairly dispirited; even salted peanuts and jelly babies fail to cut through the mood. Reaching the long, vertiginous ascent after Scabbacombe Sands I think, yep, that’s a tough one but quite do-able, nothing new to me after my practice walks in Purbeck.  Then, less than a mile on, there’s the one after Man Sands and I hold up my hand – yep, that’s both challenging and strenuous and, in the conditions, just plain unpleasant. I find myself pausing every ten yards, and not for the view. I’m meant to be camping tonight but, right now, the very idea seems laughable. Ok, there are only three more days to do, but that’s a total of 59 miles and averaging over 3,000 feet of ascent each day – it’ll prove to be a real ordeal if I have to start with half my kit wet through. I decide that I need to diverge from my master plan and head down into Brixham in search of a hotel with a vacancy for the night, one that doesn’t mind taking in a bedraggled hiker. I walk past a signpost for the campsite with a mental expectoration.

Brixham harbour

As I reach the edge of town the rain stops, but it’s too late, the damage is done. Surprisingly, I’m right on my master plan schedule, six and a quarter hours for the walk, including all stops. I knock on a couple of doors advertising b&b and vacancies, but get no reply. Thankfully the Quayside Hotel has a single room available and the receptionist even gives me a late booking discount.

It’s great to get the boots off and wring the socks out. I discover that I can turn the room’s radiator on, so wash out the day’s kit and arrange it around the heat source and the open window; the room soon resembles a Turkish bath. My initial idea of wandering down in search of the local Wetherspoons proves to be mere bravado; I don’t feel like moving that far. The hotel restaurant seems stupidly expensive, but its sister pub next door is priced more sensibly, although with limited options. The seafood platter isn’t a patch on the one at the Three Pilchards in Polperro, but it’ll do, as will the two pints of Seahorse. The redeeming feature of the day is seeing the closing stages of Germany being beaten by Mexico, followed by Brazil only managing a draw with Switzerland, which I watch back up in my room. Yay! As a second course, I finally finish off the cheese I bought in Plymouth’s Aldi.

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