Howth

Sitting after lunch, I thought to join our guests on the train to Howth and walk back. A marathon distance walk needed a bit more respect than that. I'd already walked in the morning but this was too great an opportunity to improve my daily average. And so in my haste, I only wore one pair of socks. Think blisters. And add blisters under the blisters and you'll understand the consequences.

I bought bottles and bars outside the train station. Then took off up the old tramway to Howth Summit, a tramway still remembered sixty years after it closed, following just fifty years of service.

At the summit, encouraged to find Samaritan phone numbers on road signs, I made a loop back towards Balscasden Road to get some pictures of Lambay Island against the Mourne Mountains. Then down by Heather Cottage to look at the Kittiwakes crying, Fulmar's flying and Guillemots vying (for shelf space). And south to The Bailey lighthouse passing families and friends who walk like they actually want to extend their time together; imagine that. Three people taking arty photos with a small grass fire they've set to provide atmosphere - among tinder dry gorse, what were they thinking? I emerged from the rocky pathways at the Sutton Martello Tower and back on to the road again.

Ulysses' Tower?

That James Joyce spent a few days in The Martello Tower in Sandycove is taken out of all proportion in the renaming of the tower. Joyce's Tower is just one of some forty-two distinctive defensive buidlings dotted around the coast line. Napoleon had other ideas and the French didn't arrive. But Stephen Dedalus did via Ulysses and James Joyce gets his name on the tower he wrote about. In consequence, Sandycove has become a major Bloomsday hive of activity. Why not Ulysses' Tower? Or Heron Close?

The light this morning was really good for photos but I'd only brought my 55-250 mm zoom lens. A warm day, the East Pier was relatively quiet since it was before 9 am on a Sunday. I still wonder about people clutching hot lattes on powerwalks - seems mad to me.

Racheted up another 5.6 km which takes me over 300 km.

PLS SPONSOR ME: 5.6 KM

Daedalus

After a two-birthday pizza meal, went for a sunset stroll on Killiney Hill. In at Victoria Gate, a quick look for inspiration from the Daedalus sculpture, bronze thighs polished by kids seeking their own wings or photo-ops, leading us off on a search among the damp chestnuts, sycamores, beech, oak and wych elm for a good climbing tree. I was not alone. We never made it to the playground, sitting instead to look over the sea from a high cliff perch where an unhappy person had carved their message of hope on tree.

SPONSOR WANTED: 2.5 KM

Willow Walk

I needed a walk after one too many defining moments at work. Out on Uxbridge Common, it was nice to see an Akita walker, radio controlled helicopter and teenagers all enjoying the warm evening. Across the M40, in the golf course, I had to wait while three drove off from the first tee - their encouraging banter sounded pathetically banal since I wasn't in their zone. Onto the London Wildlife Trust Trail in Denham Lock Lake Wood (really, I saw this tongue twister on a sign) where I asked one of several lurking, tented fisherman what he was fishing for - Carp mate. There are a few forty pounders but they never come out mate! Several great crested grebe, tufted duck and mallard busied themselves as I swept insects from my eyes and mouth. Squeaking cooties swam to the protection of their parents at water's edge while swans were chasing geese behind them. Then I saw a dead carp among willow flotsam, at least twenty pounds suggesting there are some trophies waiting to be mounted.

I emerged onto the Quarry Road and decided to follow it north to Harefield. I'm glad I did. A hundred metres later, under the black, overhung, rain threatening cloud, a little breeze ruffled a stand of big willow trees and the catkins popped a snow of cotton. It was beautiful in the evening light. Tinkerbells or fairies, they littered the lake surface.

Back down by the climbing walls in the leisure centre and once more across the golf course before passing Denham Deep Lock, the deepest on the Grand Union Canal. I even crossed paths with Snow White on my way back; are we all power walking in fear of the big one? I was out for 2 1/2 hours and covered 12.7 km, stopping often to take pictures or just enjoy the scenes.

Thanks to Dave & Rona.

Little Britain

Over 10 km down the Grand Union Canal to the Packet Boat Marina, Little Britain and back. Just Bashful and I went out today. Lots of talk about maps, blogs, tax, pensions, walking, shin splits and sunburn among others. Fundraising was still on my mind having spent 30 minutes bullying people into buying raffle tickets to (perhaps not) fly with BA to Europe business class for two.

The areas we passed through ranged from canal quaint to urban blight, from used car storage to canal barge marinas, pretty bricked walls to razor wired metal pickets and duckling lakes to festering pools. The pools had car parts sticking up from the monimolimniotic ooze (some word that!).

Some 700 calories were burned walking at the fastest pace in the training so far. The trusty WalkMeter reports that we walked fast enough to cover the 100 km in less than 16 hours.

THANK YOU DARLENE!

Buckinghamshire Golf Again

Six set out at noon lead by Snow White. Three of the South Downs walking team including Bashful and me joined by M, T and S. Lots of good chat provided me with an eye opening understanding of the wealth in Denham where I also noticed the plaque on the home of John Mills, peaking out from under the wisteria.

We covererd 10.5 km in an extended lunch period. WalkMeter guesses I burned 600 calories which means I earned a healthy lunch.


Time for some statistics. It was my 25th walk taking me to 277 km (42%) of the 650 km training walking I planned. It means I have to average over 7 km for each of the remaining 51 days.

SPONSOR WANTED: 10.5 KM

Two Piers

A Sunday stroll to the end of the East Pier. The tide was full, the sea oily smooth under the high pressure, anticyclonic conditions.  A scramble of yachts was mobilising to the spaced starts for the various classes. Families ambled, kids on tricycles, double decker prams, power walkers, a bearded bard carrying his guitar case to play for change.

Another change in plans had me do the second pier and cover a total of 8.5 km. Snippets of overheard conversation strung out of context - you'd need the 16 gig - I'm walking on the pier - really bad, no really - hold on, I'm coming too. There were lots of Polish going to fish. A boy wearing a Biarritz rugby shirt, probably sad they lost to Toulouse last night in an uninspiring final.

SPONSOR WANTED: 8.5 KM

Three Rock Mountain

It was a great day for sailing. It was also a great day for fuliminating and since sailing wasn't an option, anger won out. It all started innocously as I decided to walk to Three Rock Mountain. Suitably fed and coffeed, I headed towards Roche's Hill just after seven.

Under the blue skies, I struck up conversation with an elderly walker who was angry with the hard partying youth still going strong and loud in Killiney Hill. She wondered what their parents did since they didn't parent. She knew where youth lived and also wondered about their easy access to alcohol. I wondered if a casualty of equality is leadership?

I left her complaining about refuse collection not realising that some of her anger had infected me. I walked through Killiney Golf Course to my first irritation. Amidst the strangely melodious and satisfying sound of tee driven shots, blackbirds and thrushes singing, the roar of Harley Davidson rent the air. A long way off, I'd swear my jacket resonated. Then again, I must admit I've never understood the lure of the Harley.

I reached Cornelscourt where the lack of pedestrian lights has been planned to force you to use the pedestrian bridge. It was occupied by a group of youths so wasted that they forgot to intimidate me. Not that I was any less worried by their oversight though I was annoyed at having no choice; I'd rather risk crossing the dual carraigeway.

Bray

Fog weighed down on us. A Kish Cloud, chill, heavy and condensing on my clothes. Across to The Obelisk, hill one today, the cloud rolled in from the east, swirling along the valleys and brushing through the tops of candle-lit chestnut trees, standing in eerie silence. I commented to a couple of ghostly walkers that it was like being in a cold rain forest.

Down on White Rock strand, the beach appeared curiously detached from the main body of the Irish Sea, the grey fog merging into the the equally grey sea just a few metres offshore. Windless, air movement apparent as transient wisps. Almost no bird song nor gull cry, the only sound being the unseen eight-carraiged commuter trains and the lapping waters of the ebb tide. Do gannets and terns 'fish' in fog or is that like trying to hear the sound of one hand clapping?

Buckinghamshire Golf Club

Grumpy and I headed up the Frays and across to Buckinghamshire Golf Club. An overcast, humid day, our progress impeded by the nettles and dock along the river. A herd of calves ran from us between the canal and Denham Park. Herons, squirrels, woodpeckers, stag beetles and ducklings were all around to see. The annual gift of wisteria has transformed Denham. All quite rustic once you pass under the M40.

Grumpy was excited by the golf course, retelling adventures from the recent past including playing it while his house was being burgled (an unhappy coincidence). Without Grumpy, I wouldn't have recognised John O'Leary sitting chatting in a golf buggy.

The common woes of shin splints and policeman's heel were shared without resolution as we trudged our disappointing 7 km distance in an otherwise very pleasant walk. I took some comfort from finally breaking the 200 km mark; only 450 to go.


Sponsor wanted: 7km

Uxbridge Common Again

Exam weather - a beautiful May day. But such pain in my shins - the shin splints are worse than ever - it's probably time to do something about it. Classic symptoms, the pain goes eventually. The problem is that eventually is longer on each walk.

I ended up travelling back along the willow drooped, dog pooped, mallarded and cooted Frays River. Hemlock and hogweed. Another 6 km covered but I'm falling behind my goal.

The bake sale seemed to go well. Samosas and scones, cheesecakes, angel and carrot cakes. I saw one scone paid for with the change taken from a Kangaroo scrotum purse.

Sponsor wanted: 6km

Killiney and Bulloch

Bright blue skies and unusual clarity; a tanker anchored in the glistening sea, the odd yacht sailing slowly in the light airs and lots of stiff winged fulmars gliding in the foreground, Killiney Bay resembled The Bay of Naples. A bit colder perhaps as we walked Vico, Sorrento and other Italian grand tour memorial roads. Watchful magpies patrol, basking pigeons listen on telegraph wires as we discuss 1916 and far flung destinations like Quebec, Denver, Bordeaux, London, Barcelona and Auckland.

The whole 8 km walk was an explosion of May colour; droopy yellow laburnum catkins, proud copper beeches, lilac flower heads and multi-hued varietal maples adding tree borne colour to replace the fallen cherry blossoms that litter so many pathways. From Bulloch Harbour where boats were for hire, crabs and lobster on sale, we returned past suburban houses with their differentiating motifs - an ecclesiastical gateway eventually leading to a window-hung wooden dinosaur and a faux Roman mosaic of Neptune or was it Mars?

Rushing Leinster flagged German cars and Jaguars passed too close with their distinctive designer features; the smiling aspect of the new Audis, the horseshoed good luck lights of the BMW and the low throated burble of the XK. Their paced and perhaps carefree comfort discomforted us, inconvenient, squishy pedestrians.

We returned via the planning denied Barnhill (half) Stores and the Reservoir Park that has none, overtaken by the double decked 59 bus without a passenger, to continue life in a surreal world where the council soon won't collect any rubbish bins because they can't afford to support those who can't afford to pay.

Sponsor wanted: 8km

Harefield Place Golf Club

Another loop walk anticlockwise through the Harefield Place Golf Club. Bashful and I were joined by T, J and M. We met helperT on the way back. We covered the 6.5 km at a 17.1 hour pace (per 100 km). Notable today were the numbers Canada Geese, Great Crested Grebes and one magnificent Grey Heron who held us up standing his ground on our path right in front of us.

There are just 63 days left which means the daily average walk has risen to nearly 7.5 km. A tall order, I think.

Sponsor wanted: 7.5km

Buckinghamshire Golf Course

We set out at noon and went along the canal and into Buckinghamshire Golf Course, through to Denham rail station and back along the canal. Five of us, including Snow White, Bashful, helperT, M and me. It was cold for May but a pleasant surprise was the number Redwood trees I noticed. Our pace over the 9 km suggested we could complete the 100 km in 17.5 hours, an unlikely outcome.

I need to redouble the sponsorship effort since there are now just two of the seventeen completed walks that are sponsored.

Sponsor wanted: 9km

Wellington Walk

There's a 12 km walk laid out in Wellington called the City to Sea Walkway which I learned about from a clever iPhone app I downloaded called Welly Walks. I thought I'd do some of it because it wasn't raining.

I followed my instinct more than the map and added a few extra climbs just for fitness. The walk took me up into Victoria University where I realised that the students must be quite fit. I was passed by runners, cyclists and the odd jogger, none of whom seemed to notice the big gradients.

Mount Street Cemetery was quite a surprise. Lots of dead Irish names; mostly died young, mostly in the 1860's plus or minus ten years. Claims of birth in Kenmare or Kings County and other Irish locations told their own stories.

Nelson

Walking requires a little planning. Time and direction, water and food, sun and weather protection and of course, suitable clothing and shoes. Today, a few hours were available in the daytime so I just took off from the former Copthorne Hotel with a vague ambition to walk up a steep hill. Fortune favoured me and I found a sign that pointed to the centre of New Zealand, the perfect focus.

The folk in Nelson must really love their trees. Someone has seen to it that there are labels on them. And rightly so because so many are specimen trees that deserve recognition for their success. And in honouring the trees, those who had the ideas that brought the trees to Neslon are also honoured. Around Christ Church Cathedaral are fine examples of Blackbutt Gum from Australia, Weeping Redwoods from the US and splendid oaks from Britain and Turkey. The streets are today littered with their autumnal colours together with the deciduous discards of many other trees in firey reds and blazing yellows. Why do the Ukranian fishermen leaving the bottle shops not stop and stare at their majesty?

Rangitoto Island

A second breakfast prepared me for the day; a feast of whitebait fritters and Bercher muesli washed down with a large latte. I'd woken up at midnight, Auckland time, just short of the international dateline and had enjoyed an earlier airborne breakfast. Arrival in Auckland was pretty much like the rest of Air New Zealand journey, perfect. It helped at customs that I had no biohazards; not fruit, meat or other contraband - the dog and the xray checked for guilt and found me innocent.

I was at the hotel by six and took a two hour nap. I'd thought about where to walk and Rangitoto was at the top of my list and stayed there after I asked an Aucklander on the plane for ideas.

I checked the forecast in the paper over breakfast which confirmed what I'd seen out my window - a glorious day was there for the walking.

I then wasted ten minutes trying to get my iPhone to recognise this wasn't Kansas. This would frustrate me for hours because it meant no email (good) nor GPS and therefore WalkMeter wouldn't map my walk (bad). Then I was auto-switched from 2degrees to the VodaNZ network and it all worked (including email I couldn't read in bright sunlight) - notes to self, blacklist 2degrees, question what the GPS needed from 2degrees.

I walked down through Albert Park to Queen Street and bought a ferry ticket. When does it go? One minute ago, she said, run! Ideal, they waited for me.