I woke up feeling drained and with a bad stomach (It took three
trips to the toilet before I felt better since you asked. Oh, you didn’t). However, I did feel differently about Nita
and Brian. I no longer thought of this
as paid accommodation but more like staying with slightly eccentric, chaotic
friends or relatives. I had a very nice
breakfast and spoke to Nita about some relatives she’s fallen out with who live
in Leamington Spa, her father who died aged one hundred last year and that she
recently discovered she has an intolerance to fruit (I’ve seen people queuing
in McDonald’s who have a similar ailment).
I plastered my blisters, covered my legs in Deep Heat and headed for the
door. “What’s that you’re wearing,
Patrick?” Nita asked as if it was a new cologne. “Deep Heat”.
It was very nice that they all gathered by the front door to say goodbye
but wrapping myself up and tucking sweatshirts into waterproof trousers and
putting gaiters and boots on can be a long process. Brian asked if I felt fit and prepared for
walking today. I did. “Would you normally walk at this time of
year?”. “No, not normally”.
I shook their hands, wished them well with retirement and holidays
in Greece and departed. The boots rubbed
and felt a little tight at first but the legs felt good. It was going to be a soggy day though. In the first hour a postman in a van passed
me several times as I emerged from a field or wood and was briefly on a
road. It seemed to amuse him how slow my
progress was. Here’s something that’s
fairly obvious; water that’s on the tops of hills will find its way
downwards. It can be found doing this in
rivers and streams but also, as I discovered, down long distance pathways. Often, as I made my way up there was water
around my feet making its way downwards.
There were lots of steep ascents but I was often on forest roads which
aren’t quite tarmac but helped me make good time. Whenever a good ‘80’s 12 inch remix came on
the mp3 my pace quickened. I’d classify
the gradients I experienced later in the day as ‘Bloody hell’, ‘Fuck me’ and ‘I
want to go home’. Around midday I spent
ten minutes or so wandering around a field searching for the lens cap on my
camera. Although I found it that
dampened the mood slightly.
It rained or sleeted for most of the day and there were several
occasions where my backside suddenly descended to the ground. However, there was socialising to do since I
saw two people today to say hello to.
They were talking to each other in Bwlch-y-sarnau. That was around 10 am. Then I didn’t see a soul until I got to my
accommodation. It was in the early
afternoon that my sense of humour left me a little because the ground was so
boggy that my boots would disappear such that I would struggle to pull them
from the suction of the mud. This meant
that water got into the boots and then my socks and I knew this was ideal for
making blisters. It was becoming
difficult to appreciate the stunning scenery or the different colours of the
leaves or enjoy the rhythm of the rain.
I was viewing the walk as the hangover and the accommodation as the
party, rather than vice versa. As usual
I panicked as darkness neared. I tried
to speed up which hurt my legs and feet more and with the pain I got slower and
I panicked more. As the afternoon
progressed going downhill was really hurting my knees. Then my boot descended into more sludge and
my foot got even wetter and I got lost briefly around three as I neared
Llanidloes. I was really wondering why
on earth I was doing this and had always wanted to do this.
My host, Roy, at Lloyd’s in Llanidloes, greeted me at 4.10. He was lovely. As is the becoming the norm I removed my
boots, gaiters, coat and waterproofs at his door. He said that another twenty minutes and he
would have been concerned for my welfare.
“Would you normally walk at this time of year?”. “No, not normally”. He said he’d put my boots by his fire to
ensure that they were dry by the morning.
He showed me to my room and quickly returned with a pot of tea and some
homemade biscuits. I was pulling on my
cleanish trousers as he entered but was too tired to care. After tea, biscuits and a spot of lying down
and ‘Deal or no Deal’ I showered in an attempt to improve my overall
smell. The smell from the socks which
had descended into mulch several times during the day defied description. My feet are in a dreadful state and it was
difficult to put ordinary shoes on (or move) but around 6pm I did so and hobbled
up the road to The Red Lion for dinner.
I was quite choosy in selecting this establishment; It was open, it
served food and it was the first place I spotted after leaving Lloyds. There were some odd characters in there. I think ‘Special Needs’ is the correct
phrase. I was able to overhear a
conversational gem;
“Did you hear about Gary Speed?”
“Yes, he committed suicide”.
“No, an English footballer shot him because he was making the
Welsh too good”
“But he was found hanging”
“That was to cover it up”
Back at Lloyds I covered my feet in Germolene, my legs in Deep
Heat and rested.
