By Barney
August 31 2006

As a result of a bucket collection at Henley, joint sponsorship of myself, Golly and Jon, the grand total stood at over £6,000 at journey's end. There will be another bucket collection at the London Irish match on Friday 8th Sept.  

Walking for Jack - Day 4
Author: Barney nli
Date: 26-08-06 20:06

I drove down to Southampton after last night's game against Borders. I was touched by the number of people who came up to wish us all good luck for the rest of the walk.

I was also amused to be snubbed by the same person who snubbed me, two days after my father's death last year. Life's too short. My Day 3 thoughts about miserable gits spring to mind.

It was a beautiful morning as we gathered at Woolston Station. I was the last to arrive, after taking my niece to breakfast at her local Sainsbury's. A nice guy in the queue gave me our first donation of the day.

Ann Gotting had driven Steve down, and he had his two little dogs - Harry and Henry - in tow. Steve had also brought an old friend - Pete - along. He accompanied the Gs on their Hadrian's Wall walk last year, and was excellent company (as were H & H).

We were under way by 9-30, and I felt great. After relishing a free day yesterday, I was delighted to be on the way again.

The first few miles took us along the east side of Southampton Water, and we made excellent progress, ravished (nay, transfixed) by the view of the Fawley oil refinery, to the west.

Within two hours, we had taken the little pink ferry across the River Hamble, and The Rising Sun, in Warsash, proved a magnificent waterside rest station. Many pints of Ringwood Best flowed, but the highlight came when Jon - our kind host tonight, and the man behind the walk - decided to don his Glawster hat. Within seconds, his pint had been dive-bombed by - a wasp! Cue much merriment. To remind us of days gone by, we were sitting near a wreath-adorned monument to those who'd left here on June the 5th 1944, many of them never to return.

We'd now been joined by another of Steve's old friends, Ken. As we were about to set off for the second half of today's trek, the heavens opened - for a few seconds. We kept the waterproofs on for about 10 minutes, before exposing our shirts again. As usual, they had been attracting attention, and a lady in a wheelchair (outside The Rising Sun) insisted on giving us some money for CLIC Sargent.

Steve then took a call from Ben, and I chatted to him for a few minutes. He sounded on very good form, after Worcester's win over Calvisano last night, in which he had a 100% lineout success rate. Despite his new allegiance, he's still taking a strong interest in Wasps!

The main highlight of phase two came courtesy of the lady on the tannoy at the Solent Breezes Holiday Park, Their own version of Gwladys Pugh took the microphone, just as we passed by. The wind being behind us, we heard her loud and clear for at least two miles, frantically imploring the punters to take part in some dreadful Saturday afternoon activity. Sleep would have been preferable. We then passed a number of holiday homes, which had windmills on the roof. An interesting comparison. Some were whirling round at a giddying rate, while others refused to move.

We were now nearing Hill Head, today's destination. The Osborne View (justifiably boasting spectacular views of the Solent) filled us with Badger Bitter, and we enjoyed an exquisite hour in the sun-soaked garden, having been re-joined by Ann G, as well as various neighbours of John. More people asked us about Jack, and I had a long chat to one family, who took the website details.

Eventually, we decamped to John's house, en route to the local curry house. To save ourselves the mental torture of picking individual dishes, we went for dinner for four, washed down by some very potable Chilean Merlot.

A leisurely stroll back gave us the chance to watch an England Test win over the Aussies, on Sky Sports Classics (Headingley 2001, when Mark Butcher went berserk).

By now, Steve was dead to the world, and it was only 7-30.

Today has been a glorious day of fun and friendship - not to mention many pints of decent beer. It's flown by, and we've also picked up several more kind donations en route. Just over 20 miles to go, and tomorrow we'll be rattling cans in Southsea.

Footnote: I realised when I went to bed last night that the above progress report had no mention of Golly.

In case any of you were worried that he was not with us, I can assure you that he was - and on cracking form. His ability to produce pieces of extraordinary trivia was a constant inspiration!

-=-

Walking for Jack - Day 5
Author: Barney nli
Date: 27-08-06 19:50

After last night's implausibly early bedtime, the Foster khazi saw some serious action this morning.

We were back on the way at 8.30, in brilliant sunshine, with more of the superb views of the IOW.

After a coffee break in Lee-on-Solent, we soon found ourselves passing Fort Gilkicker, a crumbling building alongside a golf course - Gosport and Stokes Bay. The path came to an end at another military installation, and we were forced to turn inland, alongside the golf course. Here, we came across our first miserable git of the walk - a pompous pillock in a light blue shirt who told us: "You can't go there." It might have helped if there had been a sign informing us of this, as we had to perform a u-turn and a detour of a few hundred yards. We all hoped he had a lousy round.

The path then took us on to the road past Haslar Prison and Haslar Hospital - it's a moot point which of the two looked less inviting.

We were now coming through the outer fringes of Gosport, and passing through some classy looking marinas. We caught our latest ferry - this time peppermint green - over to Portsmouth Harbour. After we decided not to go up the spectacular Dubai-like Spinnaker Tower, Jon took us on a rather circuitous route through Old Portsmouth, assuring us that the pub we were aiming for was well worth the walk. As he kept saying "It can't be much further now", and "It's all new round here", we began to question his abilities as a guide, but we eventually reached the Still and West, whose outdooor bar had a wonderful view over the busy harbour. At first, we had trouble finding a table. A girl, sitting alone at a large table, seemed rather put out at the suggestion that there would be room for us on it, but another quickly became available.

After sampling the Gales' HB and London Pride (and trying to down a huge snack lunch), we set off for Clarence Pier, a one-time location for Mr. Bean. It was something like I imagine Purgatory to be, and I was glad to reach the common, where the Kite Society were putting on a quite spectacular show. Unfortunately, one of the kites was a Harlequin!

We stopped for ice cream, just past Southsea Pier (the sun was beating down). When the lady running the stand saw our shirts, she immediately gave us some money, as well as four bottles of chilled water, for which she didn't want payment. She looked to be only in her 30s, and had lost her husband to cancer three years ago.

We were now nearing the final stop of the day, - the Hayling Ferry, from Eastney. We'd been joined by a workmate of Jon's, who very kindly relayed us back to the Gosport Ferry. As Steve and I waited for Jon and Golly, a taxi driver came up and asked "Who was Jack?" When we told him, he instantly gave us some money, saying:"We all love our kids, don't we?"

We were picked up in Gosport by another friend of Jon's - a Brazilian lady, who displayed the approach to driving which has won some of her compatriots many F1 triumphs.

A couple of pints of King and Barnes at The Osborne View, where we sat watching some guys paraboarding at great speed (25 knots and more), brought the day nearly to a close. As we left, via the beach, one of the paraboarders came ashore and spoke with great enthusiasm about his hobby - he turned out to be an extreme sports fan, who travels all over the world.

Another day of good fun, around 14 to 15 miles' walking, many little acts of kindness, and an extended bout of noxious flatulence from an un-named purveyor of trivia.

We'll be on the Hayling Ferry at 9, and Ann Gotting will be at the other side, to pick up our bags, enabling us to steam majestically into Emsworth, wearing rugby shirts. Jon will be in his Cherry and White number, Golly in his Jack match shirt, Steve in the Worcester gear, and I shall proudly wear a Wasps shirt lent to me by Alex King.

We're nearing the end of the road, and I can't believe how quickly it's gone. I would not have missed this for anything - and I'm still blister-free!

-=-

Walking for Jack - Day 6: Journey's End
Author: Barney nli
Date: 28-08-06 17:45

After another early night ( around 9pm), we were all up at 5.30 this morning, knowing that we only had around six or seven miles to end this trek.

Jon’s Brazilian friend arrived to take us to the Gosport Ferry, and she was not required to call upon her Senna instincts, to get us there just in time for the 8 a.m. crossing. As we got out of the car, the heavens opened – real monsoon stuff. Thankfully, it didn’t last too long, and there was plenty of blue sky to be seen.

After a coffee stop at the Harbour View Café, we took a taxi down to the Hayling Ferry. As we waited for the boat, a vicar arrived on a bicycle. He was on the clergy at Portsmouth Cathedral, and was heading off to do a service in an outlying parish. We mentioned the monsoon, and he cheerfully revealed that he’d been doing a service in a convent at the time. The sun had appeared, as he’d left the building.

He also mischievously said that he hoped it would rain heavily on a senior colleague, who was also out spreading the word. When Golly proudly told him that he’d beaten a vicar in a General Knowledge round about the Bible, he said :”Oh, we don’t bother much with the Bible these days!”

We were also joined by another of Jon’s friends – Chris, a fellow South Coast Shed-head. The brief crossing to Hayling Island took us past the rusty hulk of an old World War 2 Mulberry floating harbour. Waiting for us outside the Ferry Boat Inn was Ann Gotting, who’d driven down with all three Gotting dogs. Harry and Henry had been joined by Peanut, the Chihuahua. They were delighted to see Daddy again, and we set off for the final leg. We immediately went past a golf course – empty, with no blue-shirted miserable git in sight. We again expressed the hope that he’d had a rotten round yesterday.

I was agreeably impressed with Hayling Island. Having once had the misfortune to visit Canvey Island, I had been expecting something similarly ghastly. I was wrong. We walked past many smart houses, but a good number of them had For Sale signs up. Rising sea levels could eventually see the whole island submerged – a gloomy prospect. As it was, the bright sunshine made it a very pleasant place.

After following the road for a couple of miles, we veered off to the Emsworth Billy path, named after the train which used to run down the island, before coming under the Beeching axe in 1963. The old station is now a theatre, and the HQ of the local Amateur Dramatic Society.

The path follows the old railway line, and we met a number of joggers, cyclists and people walking their dogs. The discovery of a ball gave Steve the chance to keep Harry amused, until he (Harry, not Steve)) decided to have a go at my walking poles (purchased by Golly, for a bargain £5). I was forced to carry them, but he continued to leap up at them. If I forgot, and let them move nearer the ground, he immediately snapped at them.

By now, we were making such good progress that we were even considering a pre-Emsworth snifter. Such thoughts were dashed, when Harry went AWOL. After fruitlessly calling for him for a few minutes, we decided to turn back and look for him. He immediately emerged from the undergrowth about 100 yards further up the track. For the next few minutes, he entertained himself in similar fashion, before Steve finally succeeded in getting him back on the leash.

As we neared the end of the path, we came across a blackboard, upon which someone had lovingly written details of how a number of terns had successfully been fledged in the area. What would this country do without the efforts of volunteers?

We were now nearing the Langstone Bridge, which connects the island to the mainland. Once over it, we turned right to follow the path along the edge of Chichester Harbour. Eventually, it cut inland, taking us through Warblington churchyard, where we had another poignant reminder of why we were all here – a small, beautifully-kept section for children’s graves, with heartbreaking messages of love from bereaved parents. One little boy had died when he was only six weeks old. What can you say?

We then crossed a field of sweetcorn – nearly as high as Curly’s ‘elephant’s eye’ (Oklahoma!) and emerged at the edge of Emsworth. We weren’t sure exactly where the Solent Way ended, but decided to take the end of walk photographs at the village end of the quay.

From there, it was a short walk to the Lord Raglan, where a reception committee of friends, family and sundry DWs had gathered to greet us in the garden, and we arrived at 12.15. After a couple of excellent pints of Gale’s Butser, I made my farewells and my niece whisked me back to her place. A quick pit stop, then back to London, and I was home by three.

As I cruised up the M3, I had mixed emotions. Relief and satisfaction that we’d finished the walk, mixed with the sadness you get when a good thing comes to an end. I was also pleased that I’d gone the whole distance and was feeling fighting fit.

Pride may be one of the Seven Deadly Sins, but I think the theoretical Almighty could permit us just a tiny smidgeon of pride at what we’d done. Yes, there is an element of self-indulgence, as you naturally feel good about yourself, when you get involved in doing something worthwhile. I can honestly say that this was the most worthwhile thing I’ve done in years. It was also enjoyable – stiffness apart! I’ve enjoyed some beautiful scenery, in excellent company. I’ve been at the receiving end of generosity and kindness. But, most important of all, we’ve raised a lot of money for a worthy cause.

In an ideal world, we should never need to do things like this – but the world will never be ideal, so people will continue to go out and do their bit. If you’ve never done something like this yourself, get out and do it. It’s one thing to make donations to charity, but it’s much more satisfying to persuade others to dip into their pockets.

My thanks to all who’ve helped make this such a memorable experience. Too many to name, but you all know who you are.

Jack – you will not be forgotten!
****.