In Carlisle, Running Out of Juice

Countdown: 1 Day

Train ride, on Virgin Trains, was uneventful. Comfortable train, smooth journey, lasting only 3 hours, 15 minutes. Marred only by the fat guy sitting across the aisle loudly munching on crisps throughout the trip, and the guy behind me spending two hours shouting into his cell phone.

Was unpleasantly hot in London yesterday, and is cooler but muggy here. Room at the Hallmark Hotel, right next to the train station, is pleasant enough, and one half the price of the Hotel Russell in London. Would be nicer if it had air conditioning, but there's a nice breeze. I propped up one window with a Gideon's Bible; always knew I turn to it for inspiration.

Had nice lunch at the Prior's Kitchen on the grounds of the Carlisle Cathedral. Salad and mushroom quiche washed down with a Fentimen's Curiosity Cola, fortified "the botanical way" (whatever that means).

Like an dope, I didn't bring the right electricity converter plugs. So I'll run on battery or hope for Internet cafes along the way. The idocy never ceases to amaze.

Arrived London, thanks to TSA Vigilance

Countdown: 2 days

Arrived safely in London, staying at the Hotel Russell on Russell Square. Trip was uneventful, if being squeezed like a sardine into economy class can ever be uneventful. Going through security at Dulles, I got up to the scanning machines and was asked if I had a laptop in that carry one. "No m'am, I don't, but do you want me to pull out my Kindle?" "Kindle, what's that?" the tired looking thirty year old security guard asked. Somehow I, and the twenty something guy standing behind me, smirking, thought that TSA might be a little bit more up to speed on its security precautions. My Kindle, laptop, and the whole hiking kit got through okay.

Arrived in London at 11:30 in the morning, a wholly more civilized time to arrive than the 6:30 a.m. flight that I'm used to. I'm typing this at an Internet cafe (cheap) as opposed to the Hotel, which charges 20£ for an hour of Internet access.

Off to a pub tonight, with my Kindle, then off to Carlisle on the morning train.

Way Out of My Comfort Zone

Countdown: 5 Days

Normally, when I'm taking a trip, even an international one, it takes about 35 minutes to pack. Suits, bowties, shirts, boom, boom, boom. This trip is different. Packpack, compass, mosquito spray, blister patches, hiking boots, and so forth. I'll also take my Chinese vocabulary cards, my Kindle loaded with a bunch of good books, even an old fashioned deck of cards. I started packing four days before the trip!

But, really, this is way out of my comfort zone. It is remarkable how our lives get stuck in day-to-day routines. Much of that is the comfortable zone of coasting--get up, read the paper, go to work, come home, eat, watch a little television, repeat month after month, year after year. Well, I'm determined to shake that up a little. I decided when I was about 50 (that's fifteen years ago for anyone who is counting), that I'd like to try new things every few years. So I took up the piano (still at it), cooking (until my wife said no; later we hired a marvelous personal chef), wrote some books, attempted to learn Chinese, and now this.

Life's been a little chaotic this year, and now it is time to get out of the house and try something totally different. So off I go! Starting Monday, June 29, when I arrive in London, I'll post daily about my adventures (let's hope that there is wi-fi or at least dial up in the hinterlands of northern England).

Here's a map of my walk, starting on the west coast at a village called St. Bee's and ending on the North Sea town of Robin Hood's Bay.

"Replacing Luck"

Countdown: 12 Days

"Note: In misty conditions it is essential that you take a compass reading from the top of Loft Beck to ensure that you do not wander off-route and end up in Seathwaite or Buttermere." There it was in stark red letters, from my day-to-day instruction packet from Contours. Take a compass reading. Well, I guess I'd better get a compass. Went down to my trusty Hudson Trail outfitters, bought a nice looking compass, with instructions given in 10 languages, including Japanese. The compass, from a Finnish company, Suunto, assures the user that he or she will be "replacing luck." I guess replacing it with sure footedness and correct bearings.

If I could only learn how to read the compass. "Place the long edge of the compass on the map between the starting point and your intended destination. The directional arrows on the baseplate should point to your target direction. Turn the capsule until the North-South lines are parallel to the coordinate lines on the map and the N on the capsule points to the North on the map. . . . "

Okay, this is going to take a few days to figure it out. "The local declination is given on the map margin either as easterly plus declination (E) or as westerly minus declination (W). When orienteering, the map direction is corrected by subtracting the plus declination or adding the minus declination . . . "

Of course, the easy, twenty-first century solution is to rely on the GPS system on my iPhone. But I like the simplicity (albeit mysterious to me right now) of the compass, which has been relied upon for centuries by intrepid hikers. This is still a work in progress, so let's see what happens. Let's just hope it isn't misting, lest I end up in Buttermere.

Oh, Quit Whining . . . .

Countdown: 22 Days

Haven't been doing much walking at all in a week. The problem? Little nagging things, like a bruised toe nail and a twinge in the right knee. Sounds pathetic and silly, but not when I'm faced with going 30,000 steps a day. So I decided to rest up and not aggravate these little inconveniences.

In the mail, I got my packet of tour book guides (excellent) and walking map (more excellent) and itinerary from Contours in England. Devoured the very informative book on Wainwright's Coast to Coast in one evening. Looks like there is little walking on pavement, which is probably what has given my knee some problems. But reading through the guidebook and looking at the maps, I'm asking myself, daily: what the heck have I gotten myself into? Particularly when in big red warning letters, the itinerary says, be sure to take a compass reading at such and such point when it is fogging over, so that you don't get lost. Guess I'd better get a compass and figure out how to use it. I got GPS on my iPhone, but I'm not taking it with me. I'm too cheap to pay for international rates and don't want to get eaten up by roaming fees.

I won't bore my faithful readers about the details, nor whine incessantly about whether I can do all this. Let's just see where this all leads.

I Should Have Little More Confidence . . .

Countdown:  30 Days

Last weekend, I hiked approximately 30 miles:  15 on a Saturday, 15 on the Monday holiday.  This weekend, I wanted to see if I could go three consecutive days, of at least 10 miles each day.   I did it okay, but god, do my feet ache!  I get out of bed like some ancient corpse, who can barely put one foot in front of another.  But I did it.  Three days straight should be a confidence builder.  But the reality of doing this for 17 straight days is slowly dawning on me.  But let's also look on the rosy side (a quaint American trait).  Maybe I'll be in such a groove by the 12th day, that it will be no more than an afterthought to complete the entire trip.

My confidence is not bolstered by all of my friends.  I was at a party Saturday evening, talking a little about this hiking adventure.  My friend Carol, who is considerably younger but who has had knee (or hip) replacement surgery, sends a chill down my spine by talking about how we all wear out at a certain age (and lord have mercy if I should give out at mile post 120).    

But then I look at my sister Marilyn, who is gently pushing 70, fit and trim, who for years has thought nothing of getting on her bicycle and putting in 80-125 miles.  Her husband, Dick, a super jock ever since high school, is even older, and has pedaled his way across the U.S. at least 13 times. Perhaps there is hope.  One step at a time.