Walking 230 miles on your own? Madness!
Looking back it was a little crazy. Two-hundred and thirty miles on my own with an old-fashioned aluminium-frame rucksack on my back, no support vehicle, no mobile phone (ok, they didn't really exist then), never really sure where I was staying from one day to the next (had to find a phone box and book accommodation on seven of the ten nights) and hardly any awareness that the event was happening at all. As much as I encourage my son to try all sorts of experiences, if he came home and told me now that he was heading off on a charity fundraising walk on his own without any of the necessary support in place I would be more than a little anxious. I would think it was madness!
As I sat down to plan ‘Redhead300’ over the last couple of years I have found myself asking this question - what were my parents thinking? This is kind of ironic because at the age of thirteen my (somewhat protective) mother used to insist that I be home at 9pm, just in case I might abducted by the army! Yes, this was the kind of worry parents had at the height of ‘The Troubles’ – at least in the community where I grew up. Mind you, when I had to break the news to her I was going to be a father at the grand old age of 20 she gently put the iron down on the ironing board (we were in the kitchen at the time) and calmly said, 'Thank God, I thought you were going to tell me you were in the Provos!' Yes, it was delayed shock - being pregnant was better than joining the Provos which was better than being abducted by the Army! You can see now why my heading of on a 230 mile walk on my own didn't phase her.
So why was I walking to Limerick in the first place? Well at the time I was involved with a cross-community youth group called SOLAR (Support Other religions through Learning and Respect) and we needed to raise some money. I had also taken part in two international youth camps in Lisdoonvarna in 1988 and 1989 and these were organised by the Centre for International Co-operation (based in Shannon) and the Irish Peace Institute (University of Limerick), and such was the impact of these camps on my life I decided that a walk to Limerick was the natural destination.
Off I set in August 1990 and up until I reached Strabane, I had the company of four others (see pic above) but from then on in, I was on my own. As expected, the memories of the walk fade as the years go by but some things are clear in my mind as if they were only yesterday.
Walking through Barnesmore Gap it seemed that the wind was determined to keep me there and swearing like a trooper was my only release. Then there was the day I ‘cracked up’ when one of my ‘motivational’ music cassettes got tangled up in my Walkman and in a fit of pique I chucked into a field – hey don’t laugh, everyone knows how inspirational the theme from Rocky can be – losing such an important piece of music at that moment, well, let’s just say it was difficult to accept. I tried to fix the tape by winding it back up but for those of you who are old enough to remember, a finger just doesn't substitute for a pencil!
Then there was the day I had rubbed deep heat onto my shoulders just before I left Bundoran to relieve some of the pain I was feeling from the weight of the rucksack. When I got near Mullaghmore I asked someone to soak two sponges (that I had been using to cushion my shoulders) in cold water – that’s when I very quickly remembered I had put deep heat on – deep heat and cold water is not recommended. It’s akin to men using Tea-tree shampoo in the shower for the first time – yip, they think they’re being sophisticated but all they are being is burned!
At that moment of realisation I was still chatting to the friendly neighbour who had kindly soaked the sponges and I was trying to remain calm - like that scene from Dumb and Dumber when Harry was trying to take down a phone number from a pretty girl at the gas station after accidentally setting his foot on fire. I quickly found a way to hurry my departure. He was the kind of guy who enjoyed chatting and laughing let's say - he took great pride in telling me, when I asked, that his toilet was at the bottom of garden followed by a bout of giggling.
On another day, Sligo to Boyle it mizzled the entire day – from beginning to end, yes, every fecking step of the way, no let up, not a dry moment, from the minute I left Sligo until I arrived, where of course it promptly stopped. I was absolutely saturated. That was the same day a large articulated lorry narrowly missed me on one bend and then careered across the road at the next bend before righting itself only a few seconds later – that’s when I started to really think, what the feck am I doing here?
Then there was the day two horses had a laugh at this buck eejit walking through their patch – ok, that’s not actually the case but it seemed like it. One horse in a field saw me, and looking a little bemused as to why I was there walked towards me – I stopped to say hello, in ‘horse’ of course - and he responded in kind – not to me as I thought but to the horse in the field just up the road. Back and forth they continued until I was out of sight. It’s as if they were having a joke at my expense – I wasn’t deterred of course but I’ll not begin to discuss what the cows in another field were saying about me! Yes, in a quiet country road, not a soul in sight, the only company were horses and cows and they were having fun at my expense!
It wasn’t all fun of course, there were also difficult days – back in the late 90s the roads in the midlands weren’t the best and on occasion I had to walk almost in the middle of the road just to get some flat surface. Obviously I had to keep going back into the side of the road to avoid being a mere statistic in the face of oncoming traffic but this took it’s toll on my feet, so much so that I had to sit that evening with needles and Dettol bursting numerous blisters.
Before I had left Derry I had sent letters to all the local councils that I was going to pass through and told them where I’d be leaving from each day – all in the hope that I could have a bit of a ‘send-off’ which would help motivate me to keep going and raise a bit of money too. By the 5th day not one single person from any council had turned up to see me off and so on the 6th day I just set off without leaving from the agreed point.
A few mile out of town a car pulled up in front of me and the driver got out and approached me – he was a local councillor who went looking for me in his car. It turned out that councillors had been waiting for me - bloody ironic of course! The day I decide not to turn up at my own ‘send-off’ people turn up. So, I made a point in the remaining days to be at the agreed starting point each day to avoid a similar mistake – naturally of course, no-one turned up for the remaining send offs!
The last day of walking to Limerick was a struggle and it seemed the walk into the city would never end but when I knew I was getting close I started to up the pace and did the last mile faster than the first mile out of Derry! The sense of accomplishment as I stood in the hotel lobby checking in was awesome although at the same time I was absolutely wrecked. I was just looking forward to a hot shower, only to find out that my room wasn’t en-suite and so off I went down the corridor to the bathroom only to find not a shower but a bath! Ah, those were the days.
There are of course other memories I have from the walk but I’ll stop there. As I look forward to August I’ll be working to ensure that I do it right this time. I won’t be walking on my own, I’ll have a support vehicle, I won’t be carrying a rucksack, all the accommodation will be sorted before I leave, people will know about the walk and financially it won’t be the disaster it was then – you can’t go knocking on doors asking for money when carrying a rucksack for 230 miles!
Walking 230 miles on my own? Yes it was madness, utter madness! But one of the best experiences of my life! Let the madness commence again….in August of course!
