Vic's Big Walk (eBook)

From SW France to NW England

Vic Heaney (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2001 | 1. Auflage
200 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
978-1-61792-878-9 (ISBN)

Infos

A grandfather goes for a walk. A mere 1900 kms. Backwards through his life, from his home in the French Pyrenees to his very beginnings in Northern England. His aims - to walk for 70 days - to arrive on his 70th birthday. 2 years of training. 17.5 Million steps walked. Raising funds for research into pancreatic cancer, the deadly illness from which his first wife died.. Shortly before the start of Vic's Big Walk he discovers that he is completely losing his central vision. It is impossible to read maps and walking on rough ground is very challenging. There are further physical threats to success. Even before he reaches the starting line, his body gives him several sharp reminders that it is not entirely in agreement with undertaking such a task. Dragooned into action, it goes on strike halfway through France when he is unable to rise from his bed as the world spins around him for several minutes - is this the end? The hills of France add to the rigor of the task - some weeks his total climbs would have seen him to the summit of Everest. Many characters are met on the way, with stimulating conversation and sometimes a donation. Even those who say, 'Where are the Pyrenees?' are sent on their way with an appreciation of the awfulness of pancreatic cancer but still shake their heads about an old fool undertaking such a journey. Before, during and after the walk proper, Vic's stimulating blog entertained thousands of followers, many of who demanded a book. Well, here it is. Join Vic in his great adventure. And feel good about it - every purchase will help him to raise more funds to help conquer pancreatic cancer.

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A grandfather goes for a walk. A mere 1900 kms. Backwards through his life, from his home in the French Pyrenees to his very beginnings in Northern England. His aims - to walk for 70 days - to arrive on his 70th birthday. 2 years of training. 17.5 Million steps walked. Raising funds for research into pancreatic cancer, the deadly illness from which his first wife died. Shortly before the start of Vic's Big Walk he discovers that he is completely losing his central vision. It is impossible to read maps and walking on rough ground is very challenging. There are further physical threats to success. Even before he reaches the starting line, his body gives him several sharp reminders that it is not entirely in agreement with undertaking such a task. Dragooned into action, it goes on strike halfway through France when he is unable to rise from his bed as the world spins around him for several minutes - is this the end? The hills of France add to the rigor of the task - some weeks his total climbs would have seen him to the summit of Everest. Many characters are met on the way, with stimulating conversation and sometimes a donation. Even those who say, "e;Where are the Pyrenees?"e; are sent on their way with an appreciation of the awfulness of pancreatic cancer but still shake their heads about an old fool undertaking such a journey. Before, during and after the walk proper, Vic's stimulating blog entertained thousands of followers, many of who demanded a book. Well, here it is. Join Vic in his great adventure. And feel good about it - every purchase will help him to raise more funds to help conquer pancreatic cancer.

Textauszug

Chapter 1

Day 1 Puivert to Mirepoix. Letter from Nicola. Why am I doing this?

I step onto the Voie Verte, the old railway line between Lavelanet and Mirepoix in the Languedoc area of the South of France. I have walked 10 kms since I started out at about 8 this morning. There are only about 1,990 kilometres left to go.

My objective is to reach the house where I was born, in Northern England, in 70 days time. This will be exactly 70 years to the day after my first appearance there. I am walking back through my life, from my home near the Spanish border, to the very beginning.

This is something that has been in the planning, preparation and training for 2 years. It is a massive undertaking and I only hope that I can achieve the objective. My initial plans were to do the walk quietly and unobtrusively and not tell too many people about it. But that changed when I decided to raise money for charity. Obviously publicity is likely to increase donations so I have maximised the exposure as much as I can.

In Puivert, the small French village in which I live, people have gradually become aware of what I am doing and a small crowd turns out this morning at 8 o’clock to see me off. Most of them accompany me for the first kilometre or so. Among them is my wife Gay, who will now lock up the house for three months and leap into the motor caravan which is our back-up vehicle and our home for a while. I will meet her again at the end of today’s walk.

Some time ago an old friend suggested that the start would involve bands, speeches, roars of appreciation and acclamation from the crowd. On the day, there are no bands or speeches but there is some cheering. Things have moved on a bit from the original idea to slip quietly out of town. It is touching to see that so many people have dragged themselves out of their beds to see me off.

During the first 10 kms, two people from the village catch me up, one on a bike, one in a car, to wish me well, which is kind. That is when I am walking on roads, but for the rest of this first day’s walking, to Mirepoix, I will be on the old railway track where there is no traffic allowed and in fact where I rarely see people walking or cycling, which is a shame because that is what the track is for.

This chemin de fer existed to service local communities, to bring in raw materials and take away the finished goods. Although it is now a splendid resource for walkers and cyclists it is sad to see that it no longer exists as a railway. I say this not as somebody who has any nostalgia for railways as such, but because all the towns that I pass on this track have lost their industry, which is why the trains no longer run. The first town I pass is Chalabre. Here they used to make everything for people to wear – they could dress you from head to foot – hats, shoes and everything in between. Now nothing is made here. The weekly market in Chalabre used to stretch all over town, in various streets. Now you are lucky if the Saturday market can muster 10 stalls. That is obviously a sign of the disappeared prosperity of this town, which is clearly a sorry shadow of its former self. The same applies to several of the smaller communities which I pass during this first day’s walk.

As I walk past the extensive apple orchards of Sonnac sur l’Hers a runner comes towards me, going at a good pace. He is wearing a huge beret. As he approaches he shouts, “Good luck, Vic, see you in August”.  I met this runner only this morning. He is a journalist who was outside my house at 8 this morning to cover the start of Vic’s Big Walk for the Independent and the Midi Libre newspapers. He says we used to run in the same races when Gay and I were competitive runners. He has also seen me out training for this walk but today was the first time we had a conversation and, blow me down, here he is again a couple of hours later.

I emerge from the second of the railway tunnels – fortunately both have lighting installed – and find myself crossing a bridge high above the road at Camon. Camon offers itself as a miniature Carcassonne and includes the old Abbaye Chateau which has been renovated and is now a splendid hotel and restaurant. It is a bit of a stretch to compare Camon with Carcassonne, which is a stunning, complete, mediaeval walled city.

I have never seen this track as muddy and wet as it is today. I walk the Voie Verte regularly, although never before in this direction – I have saved that for today. Almost every week I walk from Mirepoix to home (34 kms) on this same route, as part of my training. I have used it at all times of the year, including midwinter, but I have never seen it in this condition. Yet we are five weeks from the high point of summer. This morning the weather started out reasonably fine, although clearly it was never going to be warm. The maximum temperature forecast was 11 degrees. I don’t think it has reached that.

Most of the old stations along the Voie Verte have been converted into houses. Everywhere there was a station, there is now a placard telling you something about the village the station served and the products which were made there.

One of the communities I pass is Lagarde. There is a Chateau of Lagarde, dominating the landscape a couple of kilmometres away. The placard informs that it was often referred to as the Little Versailles of the Languedoc. Although it looms over the surrounding terrain it is more or less a ruin. It is allegedly under restoration with the prospect of returning it to its former glory, but from where I can see it there is no sign of any work. Nevertheless, it is a dramatic sight.

Other communities with informative signs I pass along here include Moulin Neuf, which used to be a water-milling centre, producing flour. There was a railway turntable here, which is where my route turns sharply left and another branch of the railway – I am not sure whether it is now used as a track – swings right to Bram.

As I reach Roumengoux, very Italian-looking on its hilltop, which is 6 kms from my finish in Mirepoix, it starts raining heavily.

I feel a bit tired after the first 25 kms or so. That doesn’t sound a good omen for 70 days walking, but during training I have already experienced that some days one feels good, other days, for no apparent reason, even on the same route, one feels weaker. I think it is called being human.

Today is one of the longer sections I will walk. I am trying to average 30 kms a day. This leg is 34 kms. Most of my stages are planned to be about 30 kms, some are more, and I am trying to ensure when I have done a “more”, I try to do a shorter one the next day to even things up. This is not always possible because the terminus of each day’s stage is really dictated by where there is a campsite – ideally a campsite close to the tracks I will walk.

Lots of trees have fallen down over the track in the past few days, making it quite difficult to negotiate. I don’t know how cyclists manage. Unusually, there is a group of cyclists about today. They keep going off the track to explore then reappearing. They have passed me three times and have learned more about my project each time.

Some of the trees are broken and some are completely uprooted, the whole tree falling over. I think this is a result of the ground being so wet that the root system is weakened, which makes the trees susceptible to the high winds and snow we suffered last week (May!).

I arrive at Mirepoix feeling fine if a little tired, but have I bitten off more than I can chew? What will it be like walking like this for 70 days, without a rest? Like most older people, I am not really aware of my age. I feel no sense of trepidation. Maybe my mind is protecting me from being aware of what a mammoth task this is. I was stunned to receive this e-mail yesterday from my daughter Nicola.

Dad,

Only one day to go.

I think I must be feeling much more emotional and agitated than you are. Or than you seem to be, anyway.  I have spent the last few days with tears in my eyes at the mere thought of what you are about to undertake, and I’m sure YOU haven’t been going around with tissues in your hand!! …

…  the thought of all the energy and effort, both mental and physical,  you are about to put into such a mammoth task would be worrying for any daughter of a soon to be no longer 69-year-old man …

There was much more.

Gulp! Nicola is a very level-headed person, not given to dramatics. She seems to be horrified at what I am doing and clearly fearful of the outcome. What am I doing, and why?

-----------------------------------

It all started with a few simple words.

“I’ve had an idea!”

Gay looked at me as if to say, “Oh dear, what is it this time?”

Previous “ideas” have resulted in us both giving up well paid jobs, going to live in France; then to spending the winters abroad – first in Cyprus, latterly in New Zealand. We were in New Zealand when I had this latest revelation. Some may think it an odd place to be inspired with the idea of a long distance walk from Southern France to Northern England.

In March 2008, we were staying in Alexandra. Each morning we walked along the Central Otago Rail Trail to Clyde. For me this walk had another objective, rather than just getting some exercise. The old Post Office in Clyde is now a café and restaurant. Their date scones are some of the best in the world. The café opens at 10 a.m. so we made sure to be on the doorstep at that time, so that we could both have a drink, I...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 23.7.2001
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Sachbuch/Ratgeber
• Themenwelt: Reisen ► Reiseführer ► Europa
• ISBN-10: 1-61792-878-X / 161792878X
• ISBN-13: 978-1-61792-878-9 / 9781617928789