It’s all over!

After 1200 miles and over 3,000,000 steps (for me that is, although I estimate that Jas has done over 4 million!), we finally marched up our last hill from Sennen Cove to Land’s End last Saturday afternoon.

Our plan was to head straight to the famous Land’s End signpost to mark the occassion, but as fate would have it our arrival coincided with that of another end-to-ender who, together with about 50 well wishers including his very own troupe of Morris Dancers, monopolised the signpost for what seemed like an eternity. After about 20 minutes of standing around watching this group attempting to break a world record by posing in every possible configuration for a group photo, each formation faithfully recorded on no less than 25 cameras, our patience began to wear thin. We finally conceded that we had suffered the ultimate gazumption and, when construction commenced on a human pyramid of Egyptian proportions, headed instead to the nearby bar for a celebratory champagne.

As with the completion of any significant objective, a sense of achievement did not automatically overwhelm us. We had not, by a long stretch, broken any speed records, as we subsequently found out at the John O’Groats to Lands End exhibition which celebrates the most expeditous end-to-end journeys in an endless number of categories – walking, running, cycling, naked walking, walking with a door strapped to your back, walking backwards, running backwards, walking whilst hitting a golf ball with a 9 iron, roller blading, unicycling, pogo-sticking, oldest, youngest…and driving a car (hah!). The centerpiece of the exhibition was an video presentation filmed from a camera mounted on the dashboard of a landrover which recorded all 857 miles of motorway between J’OG and LE, all condensed into 8 minutes. I couldn’t help but feel that it missed the point altogether.

So with an official time of 136 days, it would seem that we are not in particularly esteemed company, but then again, we did not take the shortest possible route, that which follows the roads and which is so heartily celebrated here at Lands End. No, we added over 300 miles to the journey by avoiding roads at all costs…and we ascended and decended enough hills and mountains to equate to, if you’ll forgive me the hackneyed and slightly innappropriate comparison, at least eight Everests.

And we decided very early on that there was little point in walking across this country without stopping to take a look at places along the way. In consequence, our final tally of 136 days includes no less than 45 days that included no walking with any particular directional intent at all, whether it was to visit a place of interest, soak up some local atmosphere or simply recover from various ‘wear and tear’ injuries.

In doing so we discovered a Britain that is full to overflowing with generous, hospitable, charming, interesting people…and just one gold-plated, award-winning twat (for those not in the UK, that rhymes with “cat”, not “what”!). The latter is a blog in itself which doesn’t deserve writing, but to the former, and to everyone who has offered their support in words, deeds and sponsorship we owe a huge debt of gratitude, for without such support our experience would not have been nearly as wonderful.

So, was it all worth it? An emphatic yes…without a doubt the best thing we have done in our lives so far, not just for the fabulous places we’ve seen or the fantastic people we’ve met, but also for the fact that undertaking something that completely removes you from your usual lifestyle challenges your whole sense of self. We had not realised how much we had pigeon-holed ourselves, nor how stifled we had become, until we started this walk – suddenly our whole identity had everything to do with the challenge we were undertaking…and nothing to do with the lives we left behind in London. It’s hard to explain, but this, together with an abundance of thinking time along the way, really opens your mind to possibilities that it would normally be completely shut to.

The question now is, what next? All I know is that life is for living, not for ruts and routine!

We would like to thank the following people (in no particular order), who have each provided enormously welcome support to us, each in their own special way:

David Marks of VKA Business Development, Ian Fowler & Andy Planner, London, Ike Okosa of Swoop Media, Simon & Samantha Waugh (& the Tent Fairies!), Clydesdale Bank, Marie Renwick at The Clachan B&B, Mike at the Tomdoun Hotel and everyone that we met there, The Drovers Inn at Inverarnan, Karen & Bruce Cannon of Polmont, Peter Jones & Jane Kenhard, and all at Saul Junction Marina, Sam & Kate Rush (and family) of Clovelly, Mick at The Harbour Inn, Upper Apsley, Paul & Sandra Morgan and everyone at The Star, Penkridge, Linwater Caravan Park, The North Inn, Pendeen and everyone that we met there, The Crask Inn, Paul Cashmore-Thornley and Matt Coupe in Barlaston, Knap House Holiday Activity Centre in Northam, The White Cottage tea-rooms in Gargrave, and my parents, Brian and Isabel Laurance (for many things, but in particular the wonderful surprise awaiting us at the end of this journey in the form of a wonderful stay at the Land’s End Hotel!).

I’m sure to have missed somebody, for which I offer the humblest of apologies in advance.

Lastly, anyone interested in reading the full story of our adventures, please keep an eye on our blog (www.lilredtent.wordpress.com)
- at some point I intend to complete the 20 or so unfinished/unpublished blog posts currently hiding in my phone, plus a dozen more that are in my head awaiting the opportunity to be bashed out on a keyboard that’s bigger than a credit card!

Until we meet again,

Very kind regards

Stuart (& Jas) Laurance

For those of you who have waited to make sure we finished before donating, please visit out JustGiving site www.justgiving.com/preciousmemories (it just occurred to me that we could raise money for breast cancer by changing just two letters!), or contact us directly by return email.

Into England’s Heart

Having detoured off the Pennine Way to pay a visit to Haworth, the birthplace of the Bronte Sisters (or the Bell Brothers, if you were buying their books at the time), we gained a first hand experience of what Emily was on about when she wrote Wuthering Heights.

Wind, Werewolves and Wearing Noodles

We awoke to find the Tan Hill Inn once again engulfed in a maelstrom of wind, low cloud and horizontal rain. Although thoughts of staying put for another rest day were at the forefront of our minds, the unwelcome prospect of walking along the North Cornish coast at Christmas-time spurred us into action. From the Inn, the Pennine Way follows a waterlogged route due south, along a high ridge, then descends to the small hamlet of Keld before heading east to climb up and around the shoulder of Kisdon Hill to Thwaite. It completes a wide 270° arc before heading due west to begin its ascent of Great Shunner Fell. Fcuk that!

On the other hand, running almost due south from Tan Hill, the quiet B6270 meanders gently downhill, like the string to the Pennine Way’s bow. In the process, it cuts at least three kilometers off the otherwise 27km hike to Hardraw. I can already hear the Pennine Way puritans drawing a hissing breath through clenched teeth, but when you’re 1000km through a hike and only half done, you don’t tend to stand on ceremony. Consequently, we immediately took the road walking option.

If you have ever seen the 80’s black comedy “An American Werewolf in London”, you will have some appreciation of what it was like walking down the narrow road that day across a desolate Yorkshire moor in a thick fog, a howling gale, and sideways rain that seemed insistent on puncturing corneas and lips and any other exposed body part. I couldn’t help but imagine the “Lamb & Slaughter” pub emerging from the fog. We would walk into it, of course, and fight to shut the door behind us in the face of the brutal weather. For a moment or two we would shake off our drenched clothes before looking up to find half a dozen locals staring up at us from a disturblingly small gene pool.
“Yurr nowt from round eerrr”, one of them would drawl.
“Yurr’d best be orn yurr way”, another would add “…’n don’t stray on t’moors!”

Of course, no such place materialised, and we managed to stay off the moors for long enough, until out of the mist appeared an old wooden signpost, declaring that Hardraw was a mere 8 miles away. Unfortunately though, the Great Shunner Fell was between us and it.

The ascent to the Fell was 2 miles through peat hags, into the wind, which had strengthened to somewhere in the range of monsoon and typhoon . But where in Scotland it was a case of fighting your way through with your legs submerged to the knee in a substance not unlike sump-oil, the good folk in charge of the Pennine Way have at least had the foresight to lay enormous flagstones end to end, all the way to the summit. Each of these stones must weigh 200kg and I cannot even begin to imagine how they manage to haul them up the fell and lay them so neatly cheek by jowl, but however they do it, it is very much appreciated.

We paused briefly at the top for a lunch involving instant noodles suspended horizontally from a fork at arms length – the scything wind delivering mouthfuls at a time into our awaiting eyes, necks, hair…and occassionally our mouths. Moderately restored, but adorned with some fetching noodley accessories we descended the fell with our heads down and our minds focussed on the Green Dragon Inn, which awaited below in Hardraw.

Interview with Lisa McCormick of BBC Radio Tees

tees Click to listen or download interview

“We plan to make it by Christmas” – did Jasmin really say that to Lisa McCormick of BBC Radio Tees?

The Tan Hill Inn

With worn boots, weary legs and aching feet from 1000km of walking, we find ourselves recuperating at the Tan Hill Inn, which sits in a lonely and isolated position above Arkengarthdale, at the North of the Yorkshire Dales. At 1732ft, it has the distinction of being Britain’s highest pub, and judging by the gale force winds that have been consistently battering its ancient stone walls since we arrived, it could conceivably make a legitimate claim to being its windiest too.

Campaign for Bottled Real Ale

Now I don’t want to upset the Scots, who have been wonderful hosts over the past two months, but the first thing that you notice once you cross the border is the significant improvement in the beer.

Talking to Jonathan Miles on BBC Radio Newcastle

 

 http://lilredtent.files.wordpress.com/2009/08/newcastle.mp3

  Click to listen

On the backbone of England, looking down towards the Tyne (shame about the fog!) Jasmin having a fun chat with Radio Newcastle live wire, Jonathan.

Talking to Mike Parr on BBC Radio Cumbria

http://lilredtent.files.wordpress.com/2009/08/cumbria1.mp3

Click to listen.

Jasmin and Stuart, crouching beneath a wet dry stone wall, half way up Cross Fell on the Penning Way in Cumbria, sounding amazingly cheerful talking to Mike Parr on a live broadcast.

Must be the news from Headingley!

Roman Roads, Border Crossings and Angry Legs

It’s taken 800km, but my calf muscles, hamstrings and various other leg related parts of the anatomy are finally lodging an official complaint with the Department for Foolish Endeavours (a large, semi-autonomous section of my brain, adjacent to the Department for Pain Receptors).

Shakespearian Hiking: From Hamlet to Hamlet With The Tempest In Between

Since leaving the industrial lowlands a week ago, we’ve more or less been following the old drove roads from one amazing village to the next. The paths we are taking are sometimes no more than a sheep track to look at, but they have been in almost continous use for over 800 years, carrying the armies of invading kings, insurgent patriots, noblemen, and cattle drovers.