By Barney
August 30 2006

As a result of yesterday's bucket collection, the joint sponsorship total for myself, Golly and Jon now stands at £5,587.00 plus £928.08 Gift Aid. This is fantastic, and I think we can now realistically set our sights at a pre-Gift Aid total of £6,000, by the time we've finished the walk.  

It's nearly 1.30 a.m., I'm working my fourth overnight shift, and I'll only have about three hours' sleep, as I have a recording in the West End this morning.

Once that's finished, at around 1, it's off to Dorset, where Christchurch Wasp is kindly providing accommodating for me for the next three nights.

The hard bit starts at 8 a.m. tomorrow. However hard it gets, I'm being sponsored at over £30 per mile, for which many of you are to be thanked - so I'll finish it, even if I have to crawl.

As a result of yesterday's bucket collection, the joint sponsorship total for myself, Golly and Jon now stands at £5,587.00 plus £928.08 Gift Aid. This is fantastic, and I think we can now realistically set our sights at a pre-Gift Aid total of £6,000, by the time we've finished the walk. We should also be able to bank on getting a couple of thousand or more at the EDF Energy Cup match against Irish. Yesterday's collection worked out at nearly 50p per head. If we can do that at Adams Park, we could be looking at three or four thousand, maybe more.

I'll keep you posted on my progress, with daily updates. Some I'll be doing myself, others will be done by EssBee, on the basis of phone calls.

Thanks for your support. I can't wait to get started, but I'll be extremely glad when I've finished!

-=-

Walking for Jack - Day 1
Author: Barney nli
Date: 22-08-06 21:57

The plan was to go from Swanage to Mudeford. Mudeford is very close to where Christchurch lives.

We had talked about starting at 8am. I arrived chez Christchurch just before 5 on Monday afternoon. At this point, I had just worked four overnights, finishing at 5 am that morning. I then had to be up at 9, to go and do a recording in Marylebone.

The upshot of this rather boring background is that I was cream-crackered. I went to bed at 9, having agreed that we'd rise at 5.30 the following morning.

The saintly and long-suffering Mrs Christchurch had very kindly agreed to drive us down to Swanage, before going to work.

We arrived at the Sandbanks ferry at 6.20, only to discover that the first crossing was at 7!

We patiently listened to some local jocks going on about dentists, before finally embarking on the perilous crossing aboard the Bramble Bush.

We disembarked from the car at 7.15, and set off. We'd been warned that the toughest part was the climb out of Swanage, to Studland Bay. It was quite tough, but not as bad as we'd expected. We soon reached Old Harry Rocks, where we found a professional photographer doing a shoot for a magazine. He snapped us, with a background of The Pinnacles.

We soon found ourselves walking the beach in Studland. Luckily, the tide was far enough out for us to walk on the firm sand, which was a huge bonus. Walking on soft sand is an absolute killer!

We eventually reached the naturist section, where we found a few hardy souls, including one guy with a huge rod - for fishing!

We got back to the ferry just after the 9.30 crossing had departed. This actually gave us a welcome break, as even firm sand had been tough on the hips.

Once back in Sandbanks, we stopped for a coffee, before setting off for Bournemouth, which was clearly visible in the distance. Without busting a gut, we made excellent progress, and stopped for a lunch break, just east of Bournemouth Pier, well before midday.

It was around here that Christchurch came up with the fateful suggestion: "We're going so well that we could easily go beyond Mudeford".

"Great idea!" said an idiot who shall remain nameless.

We reached Mudeford at 2, having received a kind donation from a young couple who'd been fishing, and were sitting opposite us on the ferry. We then had another coffee stop, and decided to continue eastwards.

One thing that had struck us had been how remarkably empty the beaches in Poole and Christchurch had been. No such scenario on the beach just east of Mudeford, which was doing a roaring trade.

We had worked out that 8 more miles would take us to Milford-on-Sea, and we reckoned that continuing at our current rate would get us there at around 5.

By now, our legs were beginning to feel it. I was getting slightly stiff in the left calf, but the feet felt fine. We carried on, and took an unintentional detour, when we walked through a holiday village at Chewton Bunny, rather than carry on along the cliff path. This probably took us about a mile out of our way. When we stopped to patronise the well-equipped public convenience in Barton-on-Sea, we could see Milford-on Sea in the not too distant distance, so we went for it.

I should mention the weather. Despite some grim predictions, we'd been lucky. Sunny, but not too hot, with just a few spots of rain at around 3. After that, we had a lovely late afternoon, with a great view of the IOW.

As we walked along the cliff path, which showed significant signs of erosion, we bumped into various people who asked who Jack was. Despite the fact that it's some time ago, I still found it quite emotional to talk about him. They were also suitably moved. One nice young mum kept saying "That really makes me appreciate how lucky I am."

We finally reached Milford at around 5.40, so the last 8 miles had taken over three hours - some indication of the fact that the legs were suffering!

The first pub we passed sold London Pride - but it was f*cking closed! We carried on to the Smugglers and arrived at the bar just as various familes decided to order supper. The barmaid did spot us and I mentioned the fact that we'd just come from Swanage and that two pints of Landlord would probably save two lives. The other people in the food queue kindly agreed that we should be served first!

Pint 1 hardly touched the sides. Pint 2 had to be Ringwood Bitter, as we'd finished the Landlord. It was fine.

A local got talking to us, and very kindly donated several notes. Mrs C arrived and took us back to Christchurch, where a long, lingering hot bath worked wonders with the stiff calf.

The only down side: taking a break on the last bench on the cliff path before Milford, I left my mobile behind. Who cares? I've got a replacement at home, but it means I can't be contacted for the next few days!

Going such a long way today means that tomorrow, which had been set to be a marathon, will now be around 17 miles.

Thanks for the various messages of support, which I can no longer receive! They were much appreciated.

Unless I wake up completely incapable of movement, I am on course to be at the Borders game. If I fall asleep in your company, don't take it personally!

-=-

Walking for Jack - Day 2
Author: Barney nli
Date: 23-08-06 17:55

After yesterday's marathon trek, and the resultant stiffness, I was fearing that today might be something of a trial. It wasn't. Certainly hard work, but no more than that.

The weather forecast was dire, and dark clouds were looming as Christchurch dropped me in Milford-on-Sea. I instantly donned the Sky Sports rain cape they dished out a couple of years ago - thanks, Uncle Rupe!

Within five minutes, a cheery lady walking from Keyhaven told me that I looked like a Morris Dancer. I assured her that I am not, never have been and never will be!

The stretch from Milford to Lymington is around 7 miles, and takes you along a raised path through Keyhaven Marshes. Quite bleak, but very atmospheric, and the Isle of Wight is very close. Plenty of wildlife to enjoy, particularly of the feathered variety. I'm not good on nature, so I can't tell you what some of them were, but I did pick out a few swans. There were also some cows, grazing happily in the undergrowth.

I hardly saw anyone there. A few people out with their dogs, but it was mainly very solitary.

I reached Lymington just after 10, and stopped for a couple of glasses of milk, before crossing the bridge and following the road towards Buckler's Hard. There was very little traffic, and even fewer people. After about three miles, the Solent Way takes you through fields and woods, before re-emerging about three miles from Buckler's Hard.

Mercifully, the rain held off, although it was quite sticky and I was pursued by an irritatingly persistent fly.

On arriving in Buckler's Hard, I made the mistake of walking into the car park of the hotel there. I ended up having to climb over a logpile behind the kitchen, and force my way through some low branches, before finally emerging alongside the river.

About half a mile up the path, I was given the choice of following the river path to Beaulieu, or the 'direct' one. After checking the map, and establishing that the Solent Way was clearly the direct one, I gratefully took that one.

By now, the dark clouds were looking increasingly ominous, so I was very relieved to find that The Montagu Arms was the first building you reached at the end of the path, at around ten past two. It was starting to rain, just as I entered Monty's Brasserie, and downed an inspiring pint of Ringwood Best. It was still raining an hour-and-a-half later. I asked the barman to fill a beermug with ice, and I held it against the stiffest parts. It did bring some relief.

Being without mobile, I had to beg the staff to let me use a phone to contact Mrs. Christchurch, whose taxi service is every bit as excellent as her B & B. A kind gentleman on reception pointed me to the house phone, and refused to accept any payment.

The hardest bit about today wasn't the walking, it was the starting off. A rather painstaking search through the gears meant that it took about 50 yards or so to start moving with relative freedom. This also meant that I took far fewer breaks, as each one was harder to end. Standing up became a very slow process.

Six more miles tomorrow, before taking the ferry from Hythe to Southampton, and the short walk to Woolston station, where Phase 2 begins on Saturday morning.

I've now done 45 of the 85 or so miles, and I have up to four days to do the remaining 40. Another hot bath, and the liberal application of Deep Heat, has eased the stiffness. After tomorrow's short stage, I'm due in BBC Radio Solent at ten past two, after which I'll head back home for the night.

I'm enjoying it, Christchurch and family are wonderful hosts, and I'm looking forward to meeting up with Golly, Steve Gotting and Jon Foster on Saturday.

It really feels good to be doing something worthwhile.

Oh yes, blister count. None on right foot, a tiny one on left foot. there's also some minor chafing in a delicate area, and I've had to be careful to use Vaseline, rather than Deep Heat, on the affected area!

-=-

Walking for Jack - Day 3
Author: Barney
Date: 24-08-06 16:18

After another grim weather forecast, I was pleasantly surprised to see the sun shining brightly as Christchurch dropped me in Beaulieu at 8.

The way out of Beaulieu takes you up a hill - not a particularly steep one, but 'up' and 'hill' have become dirty words! As expected, the first few yards of the day were the toughest, as the gearbox took longer than usual to find the appropriate setting.

Once you reach the top, you walk through Beaulieu Heath for a couple of miles. By the time I'd crossed it, and reached Dibden Purlieu, on the outskirts of Hythe, the sky had darkened, and I feared a drenching. I was lucky, and only endured a few drops of rain by the time I got to the pier, just a few minutes ahead of the next ferry. The £3.00 fare included the little train, and I felt that I'd earned that little bit of luxury, as the pier was quite long! One of the things on the wall said that over 100 people had line-danced on the pier for charity, in 1998. So even line-dancing has its uses.

We passed the QE2 on the way over. There was a sign hanging from the starboard bow, warning aquatic passers-by not to come within 50 yards, 'for security reasons'. Later in the day, I heard that there'd been a security alert at one of the docks - not connected!

On leaving the quay, I set off for the mile to Woolston Station, where Phase 2 begins on Saturday. It involved walking across the Itchen Bridge - thankfully, not as long as The Golden Gate Bridge, over which I once walked. I'm not sure whether the legs would have managed that one. I got there shortly before 11, and was relieved to know that I didn't have to do any more serious walking for nearly 48 hours.

When this was all in the planning, I had intended to get my niece to pick me up from the station. She lives in Eastleigh, and I'd left my car there on Monday, before catching the train down to Christchurch. A couple of weeks ago, I received an answering machine message, a mobile message, a text and an email from her. She had been due to go on a week's holiday last Wednesday, but one of the friends travelling with her had suffered a bereavement, and couldn't get away until Friday, returning a week later. My niece was prepared to forego her holiday, if it meant that I was inconvenienced. I told her not to worry, and to go off and have a good time.

She's so thoughtful that she'd even arranged for a friend of hers to come and collect me. So, when I arrived at the station, I went in to the ticket office and asked if there was a payphone there. The chap behind the grille told me the nearest one was over the road - the road being the approach to the Itchen bridge tollbooths. When I told him what I was doing, he very kindly said "Give me the number, and I'll call her for you." This was another act of kindness which served as a refreshing reminder that the majority of people on this planet are kind, caring and thoughtful. The generous hospitality offered by Christchurch and family, the thoughfulness of my niece, the friend who collected me, the guy in the booking office, the guy at the Montagu Arms yesterday, the people who'd given me money en route. It's a pity that we give miserable gits so much attention, when there are so many decent folk about. Maybe we need the miserable gits, to make us appreciate the preferable section of humanity! Apologies for slight tangent, but I've had plenty of time for thought, over the past few days.

The upshot was that I could go to my niece's flat and have a bath, then collect my car, before heading back into Southampton for my interview on Radio Solent. The presenter, Richard Cartridge, was a very pleasant guy. At one point, he read out an email - from Aitch! I had to tell him that Aitch is a woman - thanks for the kind message, H!

I left the Beeb at 2.25, and was opening my front door at 3.40. It's nice to be home, and the legs are feeling a lot looser - even if I do still stink of Deep Heat!

It's comforting to know that I can go to bed tonight, safe in the knowledge that I don't have to get up and walk tomorrow. There's no way you can compare what I'm doing with the extraordinary walks of Ian Botham, but I just don't know how he has the strength to go through this for a month at a time. My admiration for him knows no bounds.

See you tomorrow.