Back to John O’Groats to Africa – At Last (via Eastbourne of Course)

I haven’t walked any of my JO’G to Africa trek for three years. It seemed to disappear in the fog of covid and my illness. I couldn’t imagine last year being able to walk more than a mile even without a rucksack. I was gone, physically and mentally. And as it turned out the mental was the monster.

A month ago I met this bloke in the snow. Because he must be f**king freezing, Scantily clad beneath the clear night sky. Thanks Alex. I thought ‘If he can stand there throughout the winter without moving then I can at least restart my Magnus Opus’. And then I thought, you pretentious pillock. Magnus frickin Opus my arse.

I’d done John O’Groats to Lands End and on to Eastbourne but I needed to get up to Dover. So here I am, on my Jack Jones and this morning on my way to Eastbourne on the train. I sat next to a personable young bloke with: 3 kids – snap, living in Roundhay – snap, from Sheffield – snap, brought up in Charnock – snap, went to Charnock primary school – snap, supported Sheffield Wednesday……. He’s a scumbag don’t you know! Thanks again Alex. Nice lad though all the same.

I was due to arrive in Eastbourne at 1.30 and walk 17 miles to Hastings. I am travelling very light and staying at cheapish hotels to avoid the weight of a tent and all that goes with it.

What do you mean ‘all that goes with it’? A tent’s a tent.

I mean sleeping bag, mattress, towel, toiletries, etc.

What do you mean etc?

One of my trains was cancelled so I didn’t get to Eastbourne until Nearly 3pm. This is the best picture of Eastbourne.that I could find.

I set off at a good pace and soon came upon the sea.

It was overcast but warm and I kept at it, getting a reyt sweat on. The pebbles were knackering to walk on so I switched back to the coast road. These scenes are really atmospheric.

I ran out of water but an old dear with a hosepipe watering her garden filled up my bottle. Decent cove.

I was starting to like this coast. It’s not bad you know. It’s not posh like Rustington on Sea. Oreyt Chip? But it’s got character.

The small stone rectangle by the sea contains the perfectly preserved remains of the Amsterdam; a Dutch East India ship which grounded and sank in 1749. It is surrounded by petrified trees dating back millions of years and fossilised dinosaurs. How rich is our heritage? I love this country.

The ebb has turned to flow, and this young lady is trapped. Should I help? Nah.

Coming in to Hastings there was a lovely vibe. It was going dark and there was a long half open tunnel along the seafront, with deeper tunnels leading off it. Some of these dark side tunnels were throbbing with music and pulsating people. Smashed and mashed but thoroughly loving life. I entered this long straight section.

The booming unmistakable bass line of New Order’s Blue Monday got louder and louder as I walked down to a group of a dozen folk gyrating in the tunnel. They were loving it, and so was I. Where did they get the leccy to power the music system? Best not ask.

This theatre reminded me of the Art Deco facades in St Kilda near where Georgie and Ads lived in Melbourne.

And then I was there. I will sleep well tonight.

Night night.