Three more training walks since my last post, together with daily exercises to stretch and strengthen the legs. It would be tremendous just to set off on a long distance trail with no prior training, relying on being ‘naturally fit’, as Peter Sellers was fond of describing himself – before sadly dying following a heart attack at the age of 54. Now at the ripe old age of 65, I have to acknowledge that the time bell has taken its toll and that, if I’m to stand any chance of walking 1,279 miles from Land’s End to John o’Groats, I need to work at my fitness. And at managing the Achilles tendinitis.
The first of the three was a mere 11-miler, but with four serious climbs out of Lulworth on the way back to Weymouth. Knowing that my leg muscles were some way short of their usual strength, I was quite pleased with the way they coped with the ascents, although admittedly I did stop for a cereal bar three-quarters of the way up the fourth one. It turned out to be a pleasantly sociable walk because, besides the usual amiable exchanges with fellow walkers along the way, my second son Barnaby and his family arrived from Sheffield and met with my current brood at The Smugglers Inn in Osmington Mills. Thanks to the wonders of smartphones, they all arrived at the same time and joined me just after I’d swallowed a restorative coffee at the pub. We all sat outside in the unseasonably balmy sunshine, catching up on the children’s respective achievements and progress, although I have to say that being called ‘grandad’ takes a bit of getting used to – I still look over my shoulder, wondering who they’re talking to.
The second walk was, initially and at the end, in the company of Liz and Calum, both of whom need to improve their walking stamina in preparation for joining me for the West Highland Way at the end of July. We set off for a repeat of the Smitten Corner/Abbotsbury walk, but this time I inserted a three-mile loop in the middle to make mine an 18-miler. After we’d separated, I was joined for an hour by a very amiable farm dog that obviously likes company on her walkies, and wants to go farther than her owners are prepared to take her. I called her Topsy. I was approaching the ridge above Abbotsbury at an angle, still with Topsy in tow, when I saw a group of a dozen or so hikers striding out along the ridge. I was slightly puzzled, because they were moving faster than I’d ever seen a group of Ramblers Association members walking before, to the extent that it took me half a mile to catch up with them. By that time Topsy had taken up with a small family heading the other way, taking her closer to her home at Top Parts. The hardy hikers told me they were a group of Long Distance Walkers Association members from South Wales and that they were on a 54-mile circular hike from Weymouth. I took my hat off to them – that certainly put my modest 18-miler into perspective! I told them of my plans for LEJOG next month, to which one responded that I was taking the right approach by doing training walks. Wishing them luck, I forged ahead, because I didn’t want to keep Liz and Calum waiting too long in Abbotsbury.
Down off the ridge at East Bexington and along the road behind Chesil beach, the going was tougher than usual due to a stiff easterly breeze. I reassured anyone who’d listen that, if the prevailing wind’s in the east after March, we’re likely to get another good summer. After a coffee at the cabin, I met up with Liz and Calum and we set about tackling White Hill. Both Liz and I had found it testing a fortnight earlier but, a sign that we’re both getting stronger, we both toiled up it without a pause. Calum was fine with it, but he and his mum are both yet to start carrying full backpacks on their practice walks. I was weary by the end, but doing the warm-down exercises recommended by the sports masseur meant that neither Liz nor I had to endure stiffness the following day.
Next came a consolidating 18½-miler from home to Dorchester via Bincombe, with a stop for coffee at the Trumpet Major and return via Maiden Castle, Friar Waddon and Nottington. Liz set out with me, undecided at that point whether she’d do the full distance, take a shorter route or even a bus back. In the end she did the whole thing but really struggled for the last four miles or so, giving her an idea of the work she has still to do; the longest day on the WHW will be the same sort of distance, but with more ascent. I found the walk easier, but my Achilles was painful for a couple of days after, which is a little concerning. I’m now left with three tough walks, followed by two sets of two walks on consecutive days; these last ones will be the most interesting to see how my heel behaves on the second day. I found the setback a little disheartening, particularly as I’d thought the heel much improved the previous week. Still – whatever it takes, I’ll do it!
Oh, and one other minor problem. I have a vulnerable toe that I’ve managed to break a few times. I accept that the first time was my own fault; we were staying in a caravan on holiday near Les Sables d’Olonne in France, when I reprimanded the boys and told them to tidy their room, attempting to usher Alex through the door with a salutary barefoot kick up the backside, only for my foot to meet the door jamb first. “Serves you right!” said Liz. Ever since then the toe cracks and turns black at the slip of a heel, and that’s what happened on the stairs on Tuesday during my exercises. It’s not terribly troublesome and doesn’t affect my walking much, but it’s something I could have done without at this stage of my preparations. All of life’s a test of your mettle, I suppose, or in my case, of my brittle bones.
White Acorns 