constanttrek

re: previous posts

Add comment August 30th, 2004

Just to let you know that I have posted the last three entries all at once, which means you will have to scroll back through three headings to get to the oldest/new one. If that makes sense. By the way, Jeromy, don’t you go posting on our site posing as R.T Swing or I will put arsenic in your coffee.

Rue to Abbeville 29th Aug

4 comments August 30th, 2004

We are in Abbeville, which also means we have finally come to the end of our first French map! It has been something of a drawn out process, considering we have rested for as many days as we have walked. The Abbeville experience has been somewhat enhanced by the fact that, most unfortunately, it has no camping, which means we have been forced into seeking refuge in the local formule 1 hotel. The fact that is has a television, coinciding with the closing ceremony of the Olympics, is purely coincidental. As is the fact that as we arrived after the internet café closed on Saturday, and it isn’t open Sundays, we have to stay another night. Terribly hard time we are having of it. But as the weather continues to dump it down, I can’t say either of us feels particularly guilty.
I wrote earlier about the attention we seem to get from both horses and dogs as we pass; yesterday we were highly amused to find ourselves the object of intense study by an entire field of cattle. I frantically fumbled for my camera, but only managed to capture one of them staring dumbly at us. It is a rather strange feeling to be scrutinised by 50 odd head of immobile bovines.
It was about a 15 mile walk yesterday, and for the first time in a while the roads were quiet enough to enable us to talk to each other rather than yell over the traffic. Before we left London, a friend made a joke about how boring our conversations would get after a month or two with only each other to speak to, a comment which stuck in my head. I thought of it again yesterday after I realised we had gone over the same conversation about three times. It usually happens when we have gone about 6 miles and the first sign of fatigue sets in, and goes something like this:

Gary (as a flash car speeds past): God he was moving. Did you see? Nice car.
Paula: MMM. I wonder how fast he was going.
G: About 100 miles, I would think.
P: So, how long would it take him to get to Abbeville then?
G: Well there’s still 10 miles to go, so about six minutes.
P: 6 minutes.
G: Yep.
(silence for about 100 metres.)
P: So by the time we get to Abbeville, he would be…
G: Just about in Spain, yep.
P: Spain.
G: Yep.
P: I bet he’s got air con.
G: He’s sitting down, too.
P: Yeah, but look what he’s missing.
G: Yeah.
P: Yeah.
(silence for another 10 mins, then a motorbike flies past)
P: So, how fast do you reckon he’s going?……

And so on and so forth. Eventually we will get sick of this little game, I am sure, but for now it provides an endless source of entertainment. Or an exquisite kind of torture. I’m not sure which.
After Abbeville we are heading to Amiens, then Beauvais, and on to Paris. It is about 10 walking days to Paris, but we don’t expect to get there under two weeks, particularly if the weather remains foul. It is not so much the walking in the rain, which really isn’t so bad, it is trying to pack up in it. If we get a couple of clear hours in the morning we can get packed and on the road without a problem – but if it is dumping down when we try to pack everything up, it really does double the time everything takes, not to mention packing the tent away wet. As a result, if we wake to a steady downpour, we tend not to go anywhere. It is not that we didn’t expect some manky weather – in fact we are anticipating truly vile temperatures and loads of rain from October through January – but we thought we would get a relatively good run of it through August and September, which would enable us to push on quite quickly, and get on to the Santiago de Compostela before the bad weather set in.
But it is not to be. And I would be lying if I said I wasn’t grateful for the enforced rests. Much as we would like to be moving a bit faster, after a 15-18 mile day with the monsters, it is brilliant if we can have a day off. We both find that three days in a row walking is the most we can manage. And it tends to work better to do a three day on, two off pattern, which enables us to spend one day doing washing/shopping/repairs/internet, and one day actually resting.
It also seems to take us forever to pack up in the mornings. We keep on discussing ways we can become more time efficient, but at present it remains a two hour task from waking to walking. Partly it is because we tend to use nearly everything in the packs on a daily basis, which means that it all has to come out every night, and equally, needs to be repacked carefully the next day. If things are packed without care or in an unusual way, the packs don’t sit properly, which then means stopping after 3 miles and going through the whole process again in order to walk comfortably.
Fascinating as this is to us, it being the axis on which our small world turns, I did realise, as I expounded on the theme at great length to Sarah and James after a bottle of red, that it is relentlessly boring to everyone else. So on that note I shall desist.

Please bear with the long breaks between entries on the diary. We really can’t do much about them, as only big towns have the internet, and there is often 40 miles or so between the ones on our route, which takes us up to a week. Sometimes when we get there we can’t upload stuff, or, as is often the case with libraries, can’t access our weblog. As a result I am writing on the way and uploading 3 or more entries each time we stop, so just scroll down to see the previous ones. Once again thankyou all for your messages of support. I can’t stress enough how much we appreciate them, and all of you.
Cheers until (hopefully) Amiens.

Stella Plage to Rue 27th Aug

Add comment August 30th, 2004

Once again the rain is coming down, and we are holed up in our little green cave doing very little. We walked here (Rue) from Berck yesterday, glad to be leaving the coast behind us. There is not much to be said for seaside tourist towns in the rain. It was a lovely walk yesterday; past old farmhouses, overgrown fields, and rows of corn. The ponies here are gorgeous, especially the miniature ones, of which there are many – often so fat on the rich green grass they look ready to topple over their own feet. As we walk by they come rushing over to the fence, eyeing us and the monsters with great curiosity, noses out in the hope of yet more food. They appear rather more friendly than French dogs, which I am sure can actually scent the fact that we are foreign, and bark at as incessantly as we go past. I had taken to sticking my tongue out at them but ceased the practice when one old lady thought I was directing the gesture at her rather than the dog.
We were all set to walk on to Abbeville today, but Rue is a lovely village, the camping here is tranquil and, more importantly, cheap; and to top it all off the showers are wonderful. We got as far as packing the bedding up before the rain started to fall, at which point we felt the decision had been made for us. Hence today is another food binge – as Gary puts it, our day is divided into two hour sections, and at the end of each we eat another course. In between we rest to prepare ourselves for the next meal. It is tough. We have already managed phase 1(cereal) ; phase 2 (croissants, brioche, coffee); phase 3 (baguette, ham, cheese, tomato) and 4 (huge patisserie cakes and coffee). We are gearing up for a spectacular finale, as Gary has been to the Boucherie and bought filet steak for dinner, which we plan to consume with a very nice Bordeaux we got on the cheap. I may have quit the dreaded cigarettes, but my food addiction remains alive and well.
So far we have walked about 170 miles over 15 days. Of the 11 rest days we have had, 5 have been dictated by weather (not counting today, which we may have been persuaded to take regardless). We are not quite as far on as we had hoped, but then the weather has been less than co-operative and besides: who cares? We’ll get there eventually.
Due to the difficulties uploading stuff in Berck, this will all wait until Abbeville now – that is assuming, of course, that they have an internet café. Sorry if any information has been repeated.
Again we both want to thank all of you for your texts, emails, and posts. It is very heartening after a lousy day, or when the blisters are hurting, to get a message of encouragement, and we really do treasure them all.
And finally – as this is the last post which will go up before all of my ex-colleagues go back to work on the 1st of September – I shall try not to gloat too loudly as I say GOOD LUCK to you all for the next year of happiness and joy teaching the little cherubs, and I hope you all particularly enjoy the inset day at the beginning. I am sure it will be as full of excitement and vital information as ever. And on that note, I think I shall have another cake.

Calais to Sella Plage 24th Aug

Add comment August 30th, 2004

We have managed a little bit of walking between the croissants and brioche. Not a great deal, mind you, but then one must prioritise.
We stayed in Calais for a few days, due mainly to the fact that our feet were mashed – I had one huge infected blister and Gary’s (who are featured in a fetching photo on the photo album) were covered. The weather also left a lot to be desired. When we did finally set off, we were following what is marked on the map as a “hiking trail” which supposedly ran parallel to the beach. After several very slow miles we realised that in fact the beach was the trail, after which we decided the road might be a better option. We had a pretty lousy first day, only covering 7 miles, and wound up trudging the last few miles straight up the beach to a village called Wissant. There is little more depressing than hobbling up a beach packed with folk frolicking in the sea and generally enjoying themselves, laden like a packhorse. To top it off the campsite was packed. The only available site was directly beside the sanitary facilities, and, this being France, these consisted of an open row of urinals. For the duration of our stay we had the dubious pleasure of observing the toilet habits of several hundred Frenchmen.
However, there is always an upside, and the following day we discovered the wonders of the French village food market. I have to apologise here and say there are no photos, as it was belting with rain at the time, so you shall have to rely on my description, which could never really do it justice.
We could smell it long before we actually reached it, a rich scent of garlic and sausage, and freshly baked bread. When we rounded the corner there was stall after stall of fabulous cheeses, big sloppy camemberts and bries, wheels of stinky blue and goats’ cheese. There were carts laden with smoked sausage of every description, and breads of all shapes and sizes. Fresh vegetables, bundles of herbs, baskets of fruit, meats and seafood. And in the centre of it all there was a huge cooking area, with enormous round pots suspended on tripods, one bubbling with paella, another with a rich cassoulet, and chickens roasting slowly over a rotisserie. We were in seventh heaven. I know that most of you have probably seen loads of these sort of markets in Europe, but it is a tradition which is not a regular part of Australian life, and they never fail to totally entrance me. I nearly blew our entire weeks’ food budget in one throw.
It was lucky we were stocked up with great food, as the weather got progressively worse and we were unable to go anywhere. The tent stood up well to the gale force winds and torrential rain – so much for the wonderful French summer – and we just ate our way through it.
We were due to meet Sarah and James about 40 miles down the coast on the 23rd, and we were running behind, so we packed up on the first semi-dry day and set out for Boulogne, or as close to as we could get. Finally it seemed as though our feet were okay; a couple of days rest, and walking through salt water, had really helped. We had a great day walking and did about 12 miles, landing in Wimereux, just up the road from Bolougne. The following day we had a marathon – over 18 miles, the last six of which were in search of a campsite. But it put us within 10 miles of Le Touquet, where we were meeting up with Sarah, so it was worth it. As I write this we are camped ( in the bloody rain again) in Stella Plage, about 3 miles south of Le Touquet. After walking all the way there, the campsite only took caravans, so it was another beach trudge down to the site here. You have to love the old beach trudge.
There have been no internet cafes on route, so I will upload all this at Berck, in a few days time. In the meantime we had a great night catching up with Sarah and James, and enough sun for one day to go swimming – although the French surf patrol dudes are little Hitlers, and have an absolute fit if you go any further out than three metres. Hate to see what they would do faced with an Australian beach. We were only waist high in the water, with a mild undertow, and the guy was gesturing madly and hounding us in his little motorised raft. I could have been hung for what I wanted to tell him to do.
I shall have to stop writing now as the rain is actually so heavy that for the first time it appears to be coming through the tent, and Gary is starting to get that slightly agonised expression which means I might have to actually do something about the situation. I shall just finish by saying that we are really starting to enjoy the whole experience now – our feet have cleared up, our fitness is 100% on what it was, and we feel as though we are getting used to the hard physical slog.

From Berck

6 comments August 25th, 2004

This is very frustrating as we actually have a long and detailed post but are unable to upload it in this particular cafe, or our pictures, so the next big update will have to wait a few more days. However, I shall give you a quick rundown on our fortunes since Calais….
Those of you who reside in the UK will, I am sure, be aware of the fact that the weather has been truly abysmal. Not that we mind rain, hail, or gale force winds, and I am sure we will face far worse; but to hell with packing up and walking through it when there are good French cafés serving croissants and wonderful coffee. After leaving Calais and walking through several villages (I shall leave details of all this for the later uploaded post) we had to get our skates on to get down to Le Touquet by the 23rd, where we were meeting friends (Sarah and James for interested parties). When we got there, it was to discover that tents were no longer permitted in the campsite; so it was a quick (ha) march down 4 miles of beach to the nearest site. We are resolved to walk through no more sand until Morocco unless it is to go for a swim – there can be little more demoralising than lugging the monsters along the beach whilst the relaxed masses pause in their castle-building to gape in bemused contempt at our stupidity. Obvious how very much I enjoyed the experience, isn’t it?
However, the lovely boozy night which followed more than made up for the pain, and indeed for the two 18 mile days we did to make it in time. Amazing to think we can actually walk that far now – it wasn’t long ago that 10 miles would finish us.
I am having an internal wrestle here, as I would love to write all about the last week or so, but having done so already, I would rather wait to upload the pre-written stuff. We will be in Abbeville in 3 days, where there is another cafe, so I shall wait until then to post the rest and put the photos on.
At present we are in the aptly named town of Berck – the prices certainly reflect that sentiment. It is a pretty grimy little seaside town, and the cheapest campsite was still 20 euros! Gary is still recovering. Our feet finally appear to be recovering, and although they still ache, the horrendous raw blisters have all healed. I have a nice photo of them though, so you can view that in the next update. I’m sure you can’t wait.
One thing I do have to write even though it will be repeated in another post is regarding food – no suprise to those of you familiar with my obsession with all things gastronomic. A few days ago we stopped by the roadside for a break. When I lay back in the grass, a scent reached me which automatically had me salivating, although I couldn’t readily identify it. I turned to look at the array of weeds behind me, and to my enormous excitement – and Gary’s total amusement – I discovered great, wild, peppery clumps of rocket! I realise that obviously all these plants grow everywhere, but I have never yet seen such vivid green leaves with a more intense flavour. And to discover it is everywhere…our cous cous has not been the same since, and although Gary is getting mildly rocketed out, I am still completely addicted. It was my first Ray Mears moment and very exciting!

We both would also like to thank all of the people who have emailed and posted their support. It is really a wonderful thing to get into a cafe at the end of a long day to discover emails from all of you, and even a post from Kwasi in Chicago, which touched us both. We do not have the time here to answer you all, but believe me, we definitely will down the line, and in the meantime thankyou sooo much. A quick mention to Nick Smith in London, the hiker who helped us out with the cookies and who emailed us – thankyou for taking the time to write. Also to our mates from Broome who have kept in touch – we think of you often. And to Dan and Stefania, you have to come and eat with us in France; it may not have great Pecorino but the Gryuere is sublime. Obviously I am losing no weight at all – a strict diet of brioche, red wine and croissants is not a recipe for slimmers world, but hey, a girl has to eat.
After Abbeville we are heading for Paris, where we will join the Santiago de Compostela. We are very much looking forward to that; but most importantly, at the moment we are enjoying every day. We feel incredibly lucky to be doing this, and are loving every second (even the paaaaiiiiin).
I am going to finish there as the rest of my news will have to wait for a cafe with a bloody USB port. Cheers
Paula and Gary

Photos

4 comments August 14th, 2004

Until we have the site gallery functioning, you can view Paula’s (bad) photos by scrolling down on the right hand side of the diary page until you see the “photo album” link. Gary’s much better pics will be on the gallery later. There are not many there just yet, we will upload more asap. Also, if you have any of us at Trafalgar Square that you think are good, just email them to us or site management and we will post them.

Calais

3 comments August 14th, 2004

Apologies for the short post in Dover, we were in a bit of a hurry. But we made the ferry and left England in the same state it was when we arrived – raining. Arrived in Calais yesterday and treated ourselves to a night in a proper bed, which was greatly appreciated at the time.
Thanks to everyone who has posted comments on the site and emailed us, it is fantastic to open the site up and find your messages. Thankyou also to Jeromy, Daniela and Julian for driving all the way down to Dover to see us off – it was lovely to see you all and we eagerly await the post from Wynton which I feel sure will appear one day soon…

We are resting for a couple of days as the feet are a touch mashed. After that we will follow the coast down for a few weeks before heading inland, and hopefully have a few days break on a beach somewhere.

The last couple of days into Dover were quite taxing but absolutely beautiful. We spent one night in a field kindly loaned to us by a farmer called Col – bless him – next to a fully stocked trout breeding pond. The sound effects were quite amusing, as every few minutes a trout would leap out at the incoming piped water, thinking it was heading upstream. Obviously as a result of high trout suicide numbers Col had placed a bit of sheet metal at the end of the pond, so that when the fish leapt out they would slam into it and fall back into the water. Hence our night was punctuated by the dull thud of land-bound trout and the subsequent “plop” as they re-entered the water. It was a lovely spot though, and pretty good for £4 a night!
Despite our best efforts the packs have not got any lighter, so I guess we are just going to have to cop them sweet. We are using absolutely everything in them, and at this stage can’t see what we could get rid of. Hopefully soon we will discover we somehow magically need less. We do keep discovering new necessities – for example we finally succumbed to the olive oil purchase today. Well, life was just not life without it!
We are working on getting some photos up – will try to sort it today. Should post again in about a week.

Dover

1 comment August 13th, 2004

We are finally here! 106 miles and 8 days walking, but today we go to France. It has been a great week, a bit wet but the trusty tent has done us proud. Glorious scenery and lovely walking across the rolling hills of Kent, down old bridleways and through sunken valleys. I feel as if I have seen more of England this week than in all the time I have been here. I have to be quick here, and will write more in Calais where I will also put the photos up.

2 comments August 13th, 2004

We have been following the North Downs Trail this week. Or, the Up and Downs Trail, as it should be called. At first it was sheer bliss to get off the motorways, and away from vehicles thundering by us. The Kent countryside is beautiful, of course, and the gorgeous sunshine was an added bonus. Our first night in a farmer’s field about 15 miles south of Rochester was wonderful, free range hens sharing our dinner included.
The next day was a slight shock to the system. Reading the guide the night before, I had become slightly suspicious at the amount of times the word “climb” was mentioned, particularly when followed by “panoramic views”. No point in worrying, though, and I slept the untroubled sleep of the innocent. Luckily. Have you ever attempted lugging a baby elephant up a cliff face? With a hippo hanging on for good luck? Fabulous fun, I can tell you, especially the descent part with your knees trembling and blisters banging the end of your boots. But seriously, it was hard work, and although the views were stunning, I do believe that I remarked at one point, in a somewhat disgruntled tone that I could happily do with less “panoramic views”, and more mileage.
Another interesting challenge was negotiating the fence crossings. The stiles and kissing gates of rural England have always utterly enchanted me. After a childhood spent crawling under wire fences with varying degrees of electric current running through them, I thought it was the height of civilisation to have proper fence crossings built into fields, a lovely way of inviting the public to use ancient walking paths, rather than a bolshy hand-painted sign warning that “trespassers will be prosecuted.”
That was, until I attempted crossing them with the monster on my back. After various attempts, Gary and I realised that in order to fit both us and the monsters around the kissing gates, we had to climb onto the second railing, poke our backsides out so that the packs were elevated above gate level, and get the other person to swing it out of the way whilst we clumsily collapsed back to earth. Thank god there was no-one watching on the first few attempts, as even we were doubled up on the ground in hysterics at the sight. We are now mean gate crossing machines, however, and have them negotiated in record time. And the stiles? Let’s just say that every time Gary is poised in the centre of a fence, waiting to transfer his weight to the other side, I hold my breath and have to stop myself yelling “timberrrrrr” in anticipation of him toppling. It hasn’t happened yet, but there are stiles yet to cross.
Needless to say it was a fairly short walk on that second Trail day – we made 5 miles, all of it up and down steps and across hills. We were utterly shattered and stopped at the first farm we came to which would have us. The heat was also fairly intense that day – fancy England producing a week of 30 degree days – and combined with one wrong turn which led us to climb one enormous hill entirely unnecessarily, we were well and truly finished.
At which point came the somewhat unwelcome discovery that we were fairly much out of food.
Now in the age of 24 hour Sainsbury’s (Coles if you are Australian) this sounds like a rather bizarre concept. But the Trail steers clear of villages, and when you are doing 10-15 miles a day (ok, except for that last one), with the monsters on, the idea of detouring by 2 miles to get food is not appealing. We were sure that sooner or later we would stop somewhere we could buy food. Well, that is one lesson we have well and truly learned now – and thankyou, thankyou, to the very kind London hikers who donated two huge American choc chip cookies to the cause – they and our last cup-a-soups kept us going for a whole day. A great day it was, though, as we managed over 15 miles to Westwell, where I am writing this from.
We have a lovely camp in a farmer’s field here, with yet more free range eggs for breakfast. Will I ever be able to revert to store bought again? We are getting thoroughly spoiled. There is a pub half a mile down the road, and the first night we were here it was our 5th wedding anniversary (and we were bloody starving as there was no food left) so we headed on down for dinner. At 5 o’clock. Pity it didn’t open until 7. But even after we had eaten the picnic table out the front, it was lovely to have a well cooked steak at the end of that long walk.
We had planned to have a rest day here anyway, but then the rain came down in torrents all day yesterday and last night, so we are taking another one to let the tent dry. Have to give Colemans tents a free plug here, though, and say that it didn’t leak a drop – unlike nearly every one of our neighbours. Given that it rained heavily and non-stop for over 24 hours, that is no mean feat, and we are very happy little campers. In actual fact, all of the gear we have has been superb, from the clothes to the stove to the much maligned monster packs. We are infinitely fitter than a week ago, and despite the rather horrendous blisters in pretty good shape. Gary’s brother drove down last night to relieve us of anything we thought we didn’t need (total weight, approx 1 kilo) and drop us off a few things we had left behind (total weight, approx 4 kilos) so the packs should be just that bit more interesting tomorrow.
The rain has put us slightly behind schedule – I have to keep reminding myself that we really don’t have a schedule – but we should still be on a ferry from Dover by the 12th. It is really only 2 walking days from here, but due to the distance between campsites, we will probably have to do it over 3 (unless we do a 20 mile haul).
I am going to upload some images onto the photo gallery on the weblog – diary page – and we will put the better ones on the actual website gallery a little down the track. Please excuse the weblog ones as they are mainly me mucking around, and as is plainly obvious I am no photographer. Gary’s little masterpieces will go on the other section.
So hopefully I will upload this onto the site around the 12th, and perhaps update you a little more then.
Cheers.

Breaking us (in)

4 comments August 5th, 2004

It is day 5 of the long march, and we are in Rochester having (another) rest day. It has been some experience, so far! Thankyou to everyone who came down to see us off at Trafalgar Square. I am sure nobody else had a clue what was going on, but it was great for us to have the moral support. Thankyou also to Dan, Stefania, Dad and Ela for walking all the way to Greenwich with us, and to all of you who came down to Greenwich for dinner – it was a great last night for us.
So, on to day two.
On the map it didn’t look far from Greenwich to Stone (Dartford Crossing). About 9 miles, 10 at the most. We figured it would be a long day but worth it to get us out of London. Ha! Try 15 miles, up hill and down dale, with far too much weight in the packs. When we actually got to Stone, it took us another hour or so to find the hotel we had booked into (we booked hotels to Rochester as there were no camping grounds), by which stage it was 9.30pm. We had been walking since about 11.00 – it took us a while to get packed on the second day – so we really were shattered. The fire alarm at 2.00 am didn’t do a great deal to help, and given the state of us as we attempted to walk from the bed to the bath the next morning we decided it would be a good day to rest.
A day off, good sleep, and a bath all meant we were feeling far fitter on Wednesday, so we headed off up the A2 for Rochester. Wednesday has been by far our best day so far, as we did about 12 miles and although we were sore at the end of it, we were nothing like the crippled pair that limped into Stone two days before. It also felt as though we had some sort of rhythm at last.
It will be great to finally hit the North Downs Way walking path and get off the motorways, as we are both fed up with trucks and cars screaming past us. It is an oddly alienating experience to be the freakshow walking on the side of the road rather than Joe Citizen whizzing by in the car – as if you no longer belong to society, which I guess, in some ways, we don’t. I have been acutely aware of how odd we must look, with our oversize packs, walking sticks, and accroutrements. We have had several adolescent youths giving us the benefit of their erudite advice as they screech past, and more toots than I can count. I quite fancy getting a sticker which says “honk if you think I’m sexy”, just so I get an ego boost when they go by. (Although there is always the chance, looking as attractive as I do covered in sweat, that no-one would honk – and where would that leave me?) Now that we have the website painted on our backpack covers, I at least feel that there is some benefit in people noticing us. Perhaps they may bother to look us up – hey, if you do, and fancy throwing us some sponsorship, you know where to email….
After today we have a couple of long haul walks, but the plus side is that we are into camping country – well, everywhere except for Dover. If anyone knows somewhere we can camp in Dover, please let us know!
We are beginning to feel as though we are finding our feet, so to speak, and although the blisters are rather large and somewhat painful, our bodies seem to be adjusting fairly well. We still look fairly amusing when we try to stand up after we have finished walking, rather like a pair of manky old drunks trying to balance. It is all good though, and we are glad to be on our way at last. Hopefully we shall write again by Dover and let you know if we are still standing.