Ups and Downs - Hiking England's Coast to Coast Way: Landscape, Laughter and Love - page 37

on my right little toe, was jarring. I flinched every time we resumed our trek and began
to dread the rest breaks. As I walked I could become inured to the pain, but after every
break, it would call attention to itself with mounting insistency. After a while, every step
sent spasms shooting through my feet and up my ankles. Blakely Ridge, and shelter for the
night, remained tantalizingly on the distant horizon.
The shadows were beginning to lengthen as we finally made it to the inn. I crept to my
room as soon as I could in tears of pain and frustration. Chris decided that a warm bath and
a stiff drink were in order and busied himself supplying both. After a while I began to per-
suade myself that I would miraculously heal in time for the last two days' walk. I shut my
mind to the realities of a possibly infected toe and polished off a chicken dinner with the
rest of the group. We had reached the point of seeing the end in sight, but not the point of
nostalgia and regret. We began to exchange contact details and promises of lifelong friend-
ship. It was fun and I later fell asleep cocooned in a blanket of false security. Day dawned
and I needed to address my feet. The left foot was seriously sore, but I could get the boot
on, walk around with some confidence that it would carry me through the not too challen-
ging day ahead. Gingerly, I tried inserting the right foot into the boot. I recoiled in pain. I
tried again and again; I rebound the foot in thicker dressings. I could put the boot on, but I
couldn't lace it without flames of pain searing through my body. I was temporarily defeated
and defeat was bitter.
I sent Chris to breakfast to tell the others that I wouldn't be joining them. I would take the
van that day. I felt very dispirited and also foolish for feeling so upset. In the grand scheme
of things, this was only a minor setback. But, of course, this was not just a walking holiday
for me, (perhaps not for any of us,) I'd invested it with layer upon layer of significance.
There was the simple level of wanting to do better than I had in my younger days when I
had walked the Pennine Way and blisters had forced me to take the public bus while they
healed. I had promised myself that I would do better this time, and had wanted a victory, to
walk the whole way, to prove myself. Serendipitously, I had found a willing, ever cheerful
partner in Chris, who was game to walk this with me. We were both recovering from diffi-
cult divorces, after long-term marriages we had struggled to keep in tact. In some ways for
both of us, the walk represented a fresh start, new beginnings, a striding out towards better
times ahead. People who have disabilities often talk about how their disabilities lead them