Landscape Painter, Life Writer, occasional Nomad in perpetual pursuit of a dream
This time, I had to plan carefully. I wanted it to be perfect: clear skies, preferably with some sunshine – to make everything look prettier – but not too hot for sweating up the hills, and requiring twice as much water to carry. My bag needed to be a lot lighter, too. Then there was …
Day 6: Saturday, July 27th ‘That’ll be a long last day,’ Helen insisted, when I told her I’d be coming from Grassington, instead of the usual Burnsall or Appletreewick. ‘You’ll be tired.’ I hadn’t appreciated, then, that I’d be tired every day, and that the extra three miles would, indeed, make a mountain of difference. …
Day 5: Friday July 26th The five Germans at breakfast were going all the way to Cowgill. Admittedly, they would save one and a half miles by not staying at the Station Inn in Ribblehead, but that’s still an extra two miles or more than I had been intending to do. Everyone I encountered during …
Day 4: Thursday, July 25th 2024 I woke up to the sound of something gently dripping. I hadn’t left a tap running, so it could only mean one thing. I pulled the curtains aside but there was nothing to see – I mean, there was nothing to see. Even the raindrops disappeared into the mist; …
Day 3: Wednesday, July 24th 2024 Finding affordable single accommodation along the Dales Way was a significant challenge, and one I had to rise to well in advance. Gone are the days, sadly, when one could study the weather, pack a bag and hasten out the door at the last minute, stopping when tired and …
Day 2: Tuesday, July 23rd 2024 Today, I’d been told, was the toughest day. But that’s if it’s your penultimate, I kept telling myself. It’s only my second. I’d be full of energy and determination. I didn’t sleep too well. Consciously or not, I was concerned about my clearly absent way-finding skills, and adding miles …
Don’t ask me how, but a year – more than a year! – has passed since I set out to walk the Dales Way, shortly after I left Scotland. It was something I had wanted to do for a very long time, and one of the most pressing achievements of last summer. If only the …
It’s wild how you can walk off a breezy beach into the cold waves and think, this is quite nice! Then when you accidentally squirt cold water over yourself while showering afterwards, you shriek as if you’ve fallen overboard in Antarctica wearing a negligée. I’ve just braved the sea at Freshwater East, Pembrokeshire, earlier in …
Long before exiting the arrival hall; before we’ve landed and, perhaps, before we’ve even taken off, my mind is on one thing only. Not, this time (as it’s mid-summer), how cold I’m going to be on the train, but on my one overwhelming, all-encompassing desire: to attack, in the manner of a starving wolf, all …
Savai’i island: the quieter, considerably larger of the two main landmasses that make up Samoa. The place one heads to for some peaceful, undisturbed beach time in simple huts or fales (traditional, open-sided shelters with, or without, palm frond screens) right on the sand, or in some cases, over the water. The kind of place …