Day 13 Part 1 - What would Ranulph Fiennes do?

"What would Ranulph Fiennes do?", I wondered. Feeling sorry for myself in a mood that matched this morning's flat grey sky, I studied my right leg.

A week ago I slipped in the shower and bashed my shin against its solid edge. By the time I was dry, the shin had a huge bulge. Over the days a bright multicoloured display has emerged, though it's not interferred with my walking. The swelling spread, then subsided.

Last night I peeled off my socks after an eight-hour, 18 mile trek which had involved a lot of hills and found things looked worse again. A curious pink efflourescence has appeared at the lower part of my shin, warm and sensitive to the touch. I didn't break the skin, so surely there's no possibility of infection, is there?

I went to dinner tired and a little miserable.

So what would Ranulph Fiennes do? He's walked alone through rainforests and across the frozen Arctic. Like the great British heroes of the Victorian era, he seems indestructible. Even when his body reaches its limits, his iron-will sees him through. I remember an interview in which he told how he took his pocket knife to a couple of frost-bitten fingers. Self-amputation? No, not a possibility for me. Even if I had the courage, I wouldn't be going much farther with only half a leg.

I wrote about Scott the other day, and read again about his ill-fated trek across the Antarctic. The part of the legendary story which always makes me pause is the moment when he discovers his team have lost the race to the pole to the Norwegian, Roald Amundsen. In a way that I couldn't have predicted, yesterday's walk brought me back to those heroic explorers.

Jean Latham founded a seaplane manufacturing company here in Caudebec-en-Caux after the first world war. In 1928, the company's "Latham 47" was establishing itself as a key craft for the French navy. Soon however, an opportunity for the seaplane to prove itself was to lead to disaster. And the adventure began on the Seine, a little upstream of where I now sit.

The Italian polar explorer, Umberto Nobile, had been flying the airship "Italia" across the pack ice north of Spitzbergen, when contact had been lost.

Six weeks later, a Latham 47 was tasked with a rescue mission. It took off from the Seine at Caudebec-en-Caux and flew to Bergen, where the pilot picked up the great Amundsen. They flew next day to Tromsöand then set off the following day to find Nobile. They were never heard of again.

In the early 1930's a huge relief was carved and set in the cliff above the Seine. I passed it yesterday. It depicted the Latham 47 and commemorated the ill-fated mission

These great explorers are in a different league from me, of course. I wince at the prospect of going to the dentist; they delighted in danger and going into the unknown. So here am I, worried about a bruised leg - what a feeble soul I am.

Now I'm going out for a walk. I may be some time...

(Continued in Part Two)