It started here...
...And ended here.
And this is what happened in between... On the first day as I was crossing Featherbed Moss
my right foot found a hole in one of the causey stones, a hole! This
brought me crashing down knees on the the stones. Luckily my right foot
didn't get trapped in the hole so I was saved a possible fracture. Both
my knees were bloodied and bruised, and I'd torn a hole in my brand new
TNF Meridian Pants. The fall shook me up so I proceeded with caution,
some of the slabs were cracked, sunken or had 'puddles' on them and I
didn't want to get caught again.
My left wrist and shoulder had taken a jolt and were complaining too. It wasn't until I started descending Torside Clough
that the trouble began, my left knee was struggling and was very
painful, I was barely able to put it down without wincing. On the flat
my knee cheered up and I was able to make Crowden but not without a
spasm or two. And my shoulder was happy to be free of the pressure of
the rucksack.
I
didn't get a good nights sleep despite walking 16 miles, I couldn't sleep
on my left side, the bruises on my knees didn't like contact with the
ground, and neither did my left knee like being flexed over the end of
my NeoAir (it's a 3/4 length).
In
the morning I looked at the map and guide book and there wasn't a great
deal of decent involved so I decided to continue. The day went well but
I wasn't enjoying myself; it was very blustery but the sun was shining.
I arrived at Standedge and found the pub that allowed camping, luckily I
arrived there at the time the manager was unloading her car. Luckily
because they aren't open Mondays. She allowed me to camp, gave me a
glass of 'pop', a cup of milk and several litres of water. And I
liberated a bottle of Merlot from the wine rack - I had to pay for this
but all else was free. Trail magic is what American hikers would call
that.
Needless
to state but I was in better spirits and the Merlot did it's trick and a
good nights sleep was had only interrupted by a few showers, of strange
sounding rain on the fly. (I was later to find out that it was hail!)
Rested
and feeling more confident, although with a fifteen mile day ahead of
me, I set off and made good time. The morning started to unravel as I
descended the slope to the footbridge over the M62, my left knee was up to
it's old antics again. I'd been walking solidly for a couple of hours so
thought a rest would help. Unfortunately not this time. Crossing Black
Rocks a few miles south of the halfway point I was in a great deal of
distress; wincing pain, spasms and inability to co-ordinate my feet. A repeat of the descent of Torside Clough, I thought I'd never get to the road. Time for a short break, and I snacked on a codeine/ibuprofen pain killer; no point in messing around with pissy other pain killers get the one that's as legally as close to cocaine as you can get.
At
the White House PH I had a pint of orange and soda, and with the help
of a young local lad I had formulated my escape plan. There was a bus
due in fifteen minutes to Littleborough, where I caught the train to Manchester, from Manchester I had a uneventful coach journey home.
The
doctor diagnosed a torn ligament, banned me from walking until I'm
healed and has put me on a months worth of anti-inflammatory tablets.
