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I woke with enthusiasm on the last day. I could lace both boots and if I distracted myself,
the right foot didn't hurt too much. I pulled out from my pack an immaculately clean Macu-
lar Disease Society T-shirt I'd saved for this day. It was of the startling egg yolk yellow
that had embarrassed me when I first saw it just two weeks ago. I pulled it on and turned
to look at Chris for approval. He glowed neon yolk yellow in his shirt too. We smiled and
high fived.
The smiles drooped a little as we made our way up the 1 in 3 hill that led out of Grosmont,
but it was no serious barrier to our progress or our spirits. Following the climb I made a
gradual discovery about our fellow walkers. I was out of step. After my day of rest, I was
raring to walk, to get this finished, to march into Robin Hood's Bay, dip my feet in the sea
and cast my pebble into the tides of tomorrow. By the by, it was also easier on my right foot
to keep on walking, the pain still surged after every break. To my surprise, disbelief even,
the rest of the group took their time, dawdled and welcomed every distraction. We took
more breaks than ever before, including a coffee stop at Midge Hall. The tea gardens at
Midge Hall are exquisite, nestled in a fairy tale hollow close to Falling Foss waterfall, and
the homemade cakes are wickedly decadent, but on this day their charms were completely
lost on me. All I wanted to do was to press on, stepping out in athletic style, showing off
the fitness we had achieved over the last two weeks and the earlier training hikes. But the
others lingered infuriatingly, and seemed to need innumerable photo opportunities. “Who,
in their right minds, would want to be photographed inside a folly, like this one, scraped
out of rock by human hands?" I mused as the shutters clicked and yet more groups were
posed. I was impatient and began to grow ill tempered, “Don't they want to finish it?” I
grumbled to Chris, but before he could reply I had guessed the answer. In a way no, they
weren't ready to finish, they were already tasting the nostalgia that would come when this
was no more than a memory. They wanted to linger, to make it last, to coast, to avoid facing
the other reality of their every day lives for a little longer. And now, of course, they had the
confidence that they could do this day's walk, there was none of the apprehension of the
very early days of this trip. We would finish, so why hurry?
My day off from walking had helped me to embrace that shift from quest to destination, but
the rest of the group was in languorous transition. I had to take some yoga breaths to calm
me down and restore my tranquility. As I slowly inhaled, I looked about at the immense
tangled mauve collage I was walking across. The normally sober moors were carpeted in
heather and this was blooming season. Millions of tiny lilac bells were laughing in the light
breeze, rippling as far as the eye could see. Despite everything, it was good to pause here,
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