What Might Have Been

I’m so happy that I got such good weather just about all the way round and some good sites. The last 24 hours have been a glimpse of what might have been, and if it had been I’m not sure I would have got this far. The site has great views but the ground is stony and it’s reyt difficult to get a tent peg in past halfway. I did me best last night as wind was forecast. And it came. I was up in the night quite a few times replacing pegs that Wilson pulled out as the wind caught him. It also started peeing it down at 4am and didn’t stop. I got up early and secured Wilson with rocks on him and ran down to the main road without my rucksack to catch the 8.05 from Swanage to Poole. I needed to get to Kimmeridge Bay where Martin and Linda had saved me from my fatigue. This was the only bus that went anywhere near there and it dropped off at a small village called Kingston, a 5 mile walk to Kimmeridge Bay along the chalk ridges inland. It’s a good job I had my Swiss Army Poncho, down to my feet, otherwise I’d have ended up more soaked than I became.

The wind picked up very strong and on reaching Kimmeridge I thought I’d get breakfast in the cafe, which as it happens closes on a Monday. That was it. Nothing between Kimmeridge and Swanage, 13.5 miles. Luckily I’d bought two Bounty bars and a Scotch Egg whilst waiting for the bus and I’d filled up my water bottle. Setting off the storm was the worst I’ve walked in. I clung to, or climbed over and walked the other side of the farmers’ fences as I was concerned that I’d get blown over the cliffs, which were still bucking and diving from sea level to 400 feet with strength sapping frequency. I was carrying all my valuables inside two Coop bags. It must have looked a little odd with a bloke dressed like Rambo carrying two coop bags, one inside the other, getting blown about by a hurricane and getting soaked. The path was so wet I was slipping and falling in the mud. How miserable could it get? But sometimes I don’t give up. I just get a grim determination and get on with it.
This is Chapman’s Bay in the wind and rain.

I made it up a very difficult hill where the mud was so bad and the incline so steep that I kept slipping down nearly as much as I climbed up. There, at the top in the middle of nowhere, was a memorial to those Royal Marines killed in conflicts since WWII. I climbed over the steps to it – why there in nowhere land? I read the inscription and messages spread around. As I climbed out over the steps I didn’t know what to do to pay my respects for these brave lads who won’t ever come home. I saluted and wept for them in the wind and the rain. I couldn’t help it. So brave and killed in shitty places.

Then a miracle of the (white) rose. The wind dropped, the rain stopped, the clouds began to lighten and break and the path started to even out. I ploughed on and eventually after seven hours of first putting boot to sod I came back towards Swanage, and another distance view of the Isle of Wight.

I hadn’t seen another walker all day.

Swanage Bay and Swanage front, so glad to get there.

I’ve done 18.5 miles today in the worst conditions I’ve experienced as a walker. I’m proud of mesen. I rewarded mesen.

I want to go home now to my old dear and a warm fire. Seven miles to go. A day off tomorrow when Andy Mandy and Deborah come down. It’ll be great to see them. Wednesday the push on to the finish. Party time, excellent.
Night Night. I’m nearly done.