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