Day 27 Part 2: Long and winding roads

[continued from part one]

In Hazlebury Bryan, the pub was shut. But a collection of signs pointed to the general store on the village green. Not much bigger than a garden shed, and of the same construction, the shop creaked in the strong wind that blew across the cricket pitch. The shop served as a Post Office on Mondays, and sold a remarkably wide range of goods. I bought a cold drink from the fridge, an apple and and a banana.

"Was it clear on Bulbarrow Hill?", asked the shopkeeper.
"Yes, I could see all the way to the horizon. It was lovely."
"Damn. That means rain then. If it's clear on Bulbarrow Hill, it's sure to rain."

I wondered what patterns of terrain and winds would lead to this mysterious combination of clear skies and rain.

The hours passed slowly. I tried not to think about miles but instead about hours. I knew that at the pace I was making, it would be at least seven thirty by the time I made it to Sherborne.

I was going terribly slowly, just over two miles an hour, including rest stops. But I've made the mistake before of not resting and suffered the exhausting consequences.

At the end of a long day's walking I'm on a kind of 'autopilot'. It's easy just to keep going and not to rest at all but the result is a deeper exhaustion and pulled muscles. So I forced myself to take a five or ten minute break on the hour, every hour. It's a proper break: rucksack off, sitting down (sometimes on a convenient bench, sometimes perched in the verge of the road), stretching and giving my aching leg muscles a massage. I also took a standing rest on the half-hour for a few moments.

The hours passed and the sun fell beneath the tops of the hedges. I was on the A-road now. So with my bright orange pennant flying from my waistband, I had to be careful of the traffic. Thankfully tractors and lorries were infrequent but when they passed I pressed myself into the hedge.

I've noticed that lorry and tractor drivers are good at spotting walkers and they anticipate a long way in advance. Older drivers pottering along are also very generous, pulling out wide of the walker to give space. Younger drivers too are very good, even if they're travelling fast. The problem group is the middle-aged, who tend to be distracted or unobservant. They swerve at the last minute and seem to think that I only need a metre's clearance. It's funny how consistent this pattern is, on French and English roads, it's just the same.

Eventually, at ten past eight, I arrived at the Half Moon Inn. Too tired to eat, I ran a deep, hot bath and then slept for nine hours.

My walking verse for the day was Isaiah 59.9: "Justice is far from us, and righteousness does not reach us; we wait for light, and lo! there is darkness; and for brightness, but we walk in gloom."

Well, that was quite a way from my experience of Day 27. I'd walked over twenty-one miles, that's farther than I've ever walked in a day. I prayed with thanksgiving for the fact that I'd been given the strength to make it. I hadn't, after all, walked in gloom.