Walking South

 Thank you to Monica and Matt for letting me go, to Dr Hoekema at Peace Health and the Dawes at Sedro Woolley Physical Therapy for making it possible, and to my friends and clients willing to let me quit on them and retire. This walk is what comes from being unproductive.

It’s nearing the end of summer and I’ve been home and off the Salt Path for a week.  I was driving Matt home from a friend’s house when he made this observation. “Hey, Dad.   T hose first few weeks I spent with you in England seemed like they were way longer than the whole rest of my summer vacation.” “Sorry about that.” “No, I mean they felt longer in a good way.   I think it seemed like it was longer because we slept in a different place every night or something.   It was different. These last several weeks just flew by, and now summer vacation is about gone.” “I think it was the novelty of it,” I said.   “People remember things they see and things they do, but they don’t really remember how many times they did them.   So a couple weeks of doing strange things will make more memories than a couple months of doing familiar things.   Other than England you had a good summer though, right?” “Oh yeah, especially when I was over in Eastern Washi...

 I'm in London now and done with the Path. It was raining and windy when I finished, and I was dizzy so I muffled the End of the Path monument shot. So instead, this is what it looks like looking back towards it from the ferry taking me away. The last week on the Path was mostly rainy, like all the rest of my time on the Path. In addition to the rain, and mud, and damp, and cold, I entertained my old friend vertigo. Friends that know me well are already aware of my 'condition', where I occasionally experience persistent mild to moderate dizziness. Not bad really, but bad enough that for the last week I walked inland as much as possible, on the South Devon Ridge Path to avoid walking along the tops of cliffs. Still, there were a few that were unavoidable. These stairs, when you're dizzy, are annoying. This vertigo thing I've had before, and it stays with me for about a month. I'd like to think it's brought on by overwork or physical exhaustion, but it's e...

It has been raining still raining, and it's been a psychological and logistical challenge.  Even on mornings when it's not raining, the dew is so heavy that my tent is soaked and is still wet when crammed into its stuff sacks. If there's a good sunbreak later in the day I take everything out to dry, making my pack lighter for the rest of the day.  Unless it starts raining again. I have a waterproof pack cover, but it doesn't keep rainwater from going down the back of my neck. Most of it works its way down my legs and into my socks through Butt Crack Creek, but some finds refuge in my pack, redampening my tent and clothes and sleeping bag. And making everything heavy again. For Pete's sake. I can tell you that sleeping in a damp bag inside a wet tent is just a little less enjoyable than you might imagine it would be. So I've been spending some nights indoors. Rooms in the coastal villages, if you can get them at all, are quaint and cute, or posh and upscale. But ...

 I went nowhere today and am feeling a bit guilty about it. One of the things I learned hiking the PCT, was how important zero days are for the long haul. You know, those occasional days you take off trail going nowhere, washing and drying your gear, resting your knees.  My gear and my knees are thanking me, but I'm feeling restless. It will take me 20 more days to finish this trail if I follow the Southwest Coastal Path recommended schedule.  My flight reservation has me boarding a Boeing 777 for home in 20 days.  I can't fritter. I think I'll make it, though. The path's terrain seems to be getting more refined and less ridiculously rugged as it works it's way along the ocean back towards London.  A bit smoother, a bit wider, and crossing fewer unnecessary contour lines. There's been less need to leave the main trail and travel inland to save my feet, but I do it anyway once in a while so I can visit cows.  I escorted a retired fisherman through a herd tha...

I've been here a month now, and have been rained on each and every day. Sometimes it drizzles, and sometimes it pours between sunbreaks. There's usually sunbreaks, some days not but one thing there always is is wind. Breezy or blustery, the wind is. It's been nearly gale force the last few days, and I can hear it whistling and howling through the masts and riggings of the boats outside my hotel window in the Penzance harbor. If it's not raining. When there's water in the wind, all I can hear is pelting on the window panes. No matter, I just turn up the TV's volume. The forecast is for improvement next week, so I'll be off again onto the trail. It's forecasted that I'll still get rained on sporadically every day still, but that's ok as I've grown accustomed to it. The locals call it "proper weather". And really, I don't know what they mean. Last week I rounded the bend of the westernmost tip of England when the trail took me thro...