I always knew that the end of the beginning would be in Bristol, the end of the first section, the easy bit.
This was the part where I test out how I'm feeling about walking, give myself an easy mileage to do, to go over a route I've walked before.
It's been a great start to a journey, blue skies almost all the way, no rain, meeting lots of people, connecting with strangers, getting hosted by friends.  All perfect, wonderful, my soul is singing.

How was I on the first night in Bristol? My body ached and my feet hurt of course.  It's a funny kind of pain, foot pain.  Feet that can throb and ache so badly at night will somehow perform the next day when strapped into their protective casing, feel good even, stride out and take my plump little body 17 miles in a single day.

Four day later, I'm feeling relaxed again, bodywise.
I'm realising that the first month has been very hard on my feet.
Here's the first stupid admission - I didn't actually train for this.  I had to work so hard as a carer to earn enough money to see me through the journey that I had no time for walking.  No time for anything actually, virtually no social life, cancelling trips to see friends, no family at Christmas, just work, as much of it as possible.  I'm a little bit obsessive that way see, I've realised that whatever I do in life I kind of throw myself into it.  I don't mind too much, at least I can recognise that this is the way I am - self knowledge is a step on the path towards balance, right?

My body feels good after this week of rest; I've relaxed, stretched and slept.  I had two massages, one hospital appointment, four baths.  I've sent emails to Welsh MPs and AMs, I've been tweeted about, had articles written about me in a newspaper.
At least 15 MPs and AMs are interested in meeting me so far which feels Great.  Wales is the only UK country that is not addressing the need for improved ovarian cancer symptom awareness and I have MPs and AMs that want to meet me - maybe I really can do something about this.

Other big news is that I have changed my shoes!!  Again!!!!!!!
It feels so stupid, as if it's a very panicy decision to be changing footwear in the middle of a walk.  This should have been sorted 6 weeks ago but 6 weeks ago I was still working - anyone who knows me back then will remember how Stressed Out I was!  Well that led to bad preparation - rushing into a discount shop and buying a too small pair of boots which led to a huge blister which led to another pair of boots in Shrewsbury which are now giving me tendon pain so (deep breath) I've decided to change again to a pair of trail running shoes.  Basically posh trainers with really good grip.  I've also bought a pair of shock absorbing insoles for the boots which makes them much better and I'll be able to put them on again when I'm heading over the mountains.  The Offa's Dyke Path doesn't offer much challenge in the way of mountain walking so maybe I don't need a pair of hefty mountain boots.
It feels silly to be changing again, I shouldn't be making these decisions any more but I need to do what's best for my body and I think lightweight and flexibility are key - at least while my body brings itself up to scratch.

On Saturday I set off again, up the Offa's Dyke Path, I'll turn left in Welshpool and walk around the Glyndwr's Way then up again to the top of Wales.  I'm making a few little tweaks to the weight of the rucksack, my kit, but mostly it's the same as before only this time I'm aiming for 15 miles a day.

Its the beginning of the next phase.....can I really do this?  I truly have no idea.

I went to hospital and I'm fine, had a scan, no evil cellular squatters have nestled into my pelvis, yet again.

I'm feeling pretty sober today, this walk is mostly making me feel full of power and happiness, I can smile full beam at everyone I meet, I want to chat, share things, hug people.
Going to hospital was like a brick wall somehow, maybe it's just the bringing down to earth of the consultation experience where, in the nicest and most professional way, you are just the latest in a series of bodies that your consultant will see today.  Or maybe it's the return to something scary, because it might happen, it might come back, and there in the hospital is where you go to begin to find out.
Sometimes I feel as if my cancer wasn't really cancer at all, as if it was a near miss; but that's only true to a tired mind, it was a proper cancer. I had a mucinous adenocarcinoma, stage 1a, grade 2.  The important part is the stage 1a; it means I got lucky.  

It took me about a year to feel good again, to put fear behind me.  I came out of the illness part, through the recuperation and into the after stage.  One year after my operation I said goodbye.  Goodbye to my diseased body part, it's over now and you've gone.  I also said thank you to what's left - thank you Leftie for working as you should.  Thank you to the rest of my body, to my legs, my eyes, my lungs.  Thank you for being strong and working so well I don't even notice how perfect you are.  It helped to put the fear away in its place - the past - and to see that there's no need for it now.

It's just that it all comes back a bit when I go to hospital.  When something unexpected comes up on the ultrasound screen, or when I lie down on the table, waiting for the doctor to touch my stomach.

My illness was two years ago and when I finished being ill, I was told that my cancer has a 6% chance of re-occurring within 5 years and that 75% of those 6% of cases happen in the first two years.  I'm into the third year today and that means I've passed something - a milestone, a marker, not quite a finish line, I don't know.  But it helps me to see that the fear really really doesn't need to be with me any more, maybe this is just a sadness for what went before.

So I came out of hospital, walked up Whiteladies Road and had a vanilla milkshake and a slice of Rocky Road brownie in a really nice cafe and then found about 6 OS maps in a second hand shop for 75p each.  I feel better now.


Please don't comment and tell me how amazing I am, not today, go and find someone who is having chemotherapy or a hard time and give them some love.

I'm overdue a blog update and I really should be telling you about how my feet are and how far I've got and how I'm feeling and maybe even my cancer story or a kit list.

But really I just want to say that while I was out walking round the peninsula today there was a lark flying above me, singing in the blue sky.

and as I stopped for a rest and laid down on a grass bank, testing my feet, wiggling my toes to ease the ache, I thought about the Welsh Assembly Members I'm emailing and then I thought about the Twix in my bag, and then I turned round and noticed it was raining nearby so I looked at the sky.
But in between all those thoughts there was a short period of time, just a few seconds where I lay there and listened to the sound of the grass in the wind.

And that is what I'm returning to, the pace of travelling, the peace of long hours and whole days to do with as I please.

Let me tell you about Gaz and Steph.

I first met them in September 2012, after a summer spent recuperating and recovering from a cancer.  I decided to walk to hospital, my first big trip out in the world again, testing my new, tender self to see how I was with this, sleeping outside, pushing my body.

I walked down the river Severn, following it from the source to the sea - Bristol - where St Michaels hospital awaited me.

At the end of one too long day I'd walked to Bewdley but had nowhere to sleep, walked a bit further, Stourport got in the way, still nowhere I could sleep.  I came past a lock and to a steep, dank wood; 17 miles on the road by this point, rucksack cutting into my shoulders, feet likes stones in my boots.  One last push and I came to a grassy meadow with a weeping willow in the centre, perfect.  Just one problem, a caravan in the corner and it looked like there was someone inside it.  I decided to go and ask if I could sleep in the field, too tired to go any further.
And amazingly a lovely friendly head popped out of the caravan...and that was Gaz.
We made a fire, we drank beer, we talked about silly things.  He was impressed with my story, in the way that cancer can sometimes be a magic word that way, and during the evening he went to fetch Steph.  She lived in the first boat down on the river and was Gaz's boss, kind of.  I can't remember what we talked about that night, just a kind of light shining out of her face as she talked about being a nurse, and how enthusiastic she was about what I was doing.  She gave me a little bag of food the next day and a card that said I was a special person.
I spent the night in the caravan, chastely, and we had a big hug the next morning.  Gaz was saving up money to travel to South America.
I sent them a few postcards from further down the way, telling them where I'd got to downriver.

The second time was last August, 2013.  I decided to kayak to hospital this time so I borrowed a boat and got a friend to lug me to the river at Pool Quay and push me off.  I didn't have their phone numbers but I wanted to stop by and say hello.  I couldn't find a decent space to pull up by the grassy meadow so I floated on a bit towards Steph's canal boat and, a bit shyly, looked to see if there was anyone in.  There was, she was in the kitchen.  "Do you remember me?"  I said, feeling proud to be coming to say hello in a kayak. Yes yes, of course she did, and she invited me in for a cup of tea and a bacon sandwich.  Steph is like me, she'll get philosophical at the drop of a hat so we went off on great rambles for a few hours, talking about the world and getting to know each other a bit more. I met her husband and learned about how she'd cared for him during his serious illnesses.  Gaz wasn't there in the meadow any more, he'd moved his caravan back to the boatyard and was working that day.  We tried calling him but couldn't get through.  So off I went, with a hug from Steph, a phone number and another little parcel of food.

This time, just yesterday, I called at the boatyard and Gaz was there!  He just got back from South America last week and I was so happy to see him.
This time, Steph was there too, but this time she's been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer.
So I saw Gaz for the evening, met a few associates of the ramshackle boatyard.  They all paid me their respects in their own ways when we spoke about what we're doing - Dave came and emptied his change jar into my donation tin, then bought me a cup of coffee and some rich tea biscuits on a plate with flowers on it.  Another Dave put a pound in the tin and got out some crisps and olives.  Matthew emptied his change jar into the tin, taking out the screws first and invited me round for dinner.  Then I stayed in the caravan again, Gaz is nice to be around.
The next morning I went to see Steph before I left, I wasn't sure if she'd want to see me as she'd had people over the day before and it'd all been a bit rushed. But she did and first we talked about my journey, I showed her my shock blister photo and talked about how much I was enjoying myself.  Then she talked about cancer and at first it was the nuts and bolts stuff of where it is and how she's feeling, physically.  What she's doing about it and when her next appointment is.
Then after a while we got onto the real feelings, the things you can't say easily to most people.  How frightening and isolating and lonely cancer is.  About how it's on your mind all the time, sitting in front of your face, taking up your consciousness.  And about how self centred it makes you, all your focus turned inwards so that you can't bear to be polite to other people, when they do something compassionate but misjudged, no matter how well meaning, you just want to tell them to fuck off, even if you've never done that before.  Even though I had a mild kind of cancer, the kind where it can be taken out we still knew exactly what the other was talking about and it was really really lovely yo spend the morning with her and connect one again.

So this is to tell you about meeting friends again and connecting with people.  And to tell you about Steph.

Been a few days hasn't it?

I've been busy, don't know about you.

I'm in a tea shop in Bridgenorth, having treated myself to a bunch of bananas and a sweetheart cabbage, I'm settling down with a pot of tea to blog.
I'm using my little portable keyboard for the first time, connected to a smartphone with Bluetooth - this is not even the most up to date technology but for me right now this is magical.  I'm typing on one device, the words are flying through the air and appearing on a screen next to it.  Amazing!  What's next, a flying machine?

So, walk related blogging.  It's been a great week, staying with my auntie in Shrewsbury first of all, walking a few days without a heavy rucksack, sleeping in a comfy bed, being very well fed and pampered, even.
New boots! I forgot to say about the boots, I now have a pair of 150 quid Meindl boots in the right size and they feel great.  The Blister has healed, my boots feel fine. Each ten mile stretch is so much easier than before.
I headed out into Shropshire, following the Severn as it curves towards Ironbridge and down away South towards the sea.  Ironbridge down to Bewdley is a lovely stretch of river, lots of wooded sections, lovely countryside and a steam train running near the path.  I cried the last time I did this walk and saw a steam train in the sunshine - something to do with rose tinted views of the olden days I think.

Someone came out to walk with me for a couple of hours out of Shrewsbury - Steph Scott, a very dynamic woman and I loved talking to her about travelling and changed perceptions.  I'm just really touched that a stranger would come out to walk with me, it makes this walk so much more interesting (and hopefully means more money for charity in the end).

I camped in some woods near Atcham on the day I left Shrewsbury - I'm still working on my camping set up really.  The problem is that when I come to stop at the end of a days walking I'm too knackered to do anything properly.  I just want to lie down and close my eyes.  But I need to take 15 minutes more energy to make sure I have a comfy, flat, sheltered place to put the bed out....otherwise I end up with hip pain because of lumps underneath the  roll mat.
So hip pain...and drips from the foggy trees in the morning.  But it was a beautiful peaceful night.
I'll enjoy camping a bit more when the weather's just a few degrees warmer I think; things are just slightly too survivally at the moment.  But it serves me right for camping in March doesn't it!!

A good days walking yesterday and today - ten miles finished by 3pm yesterday and lunchtime today.  Things are getting easier as my body gets into the swing of things, the first 230 miles to Bristol were always going to be my warm-up - a ten mile daily schedule, no pressure. (Just got to make sure I get to hospital on the 26th, no pressure, hah hah).

Last night I stayed with Katherine Soutar-Caddick and her family - she's one of the artists who did a postcard for me and she offered a bed as I passed through.  I'd never met her before but we had a really nice evening and great walk the next day (even if I did make them all go to bed early so I could sleep in their living room!!).

So all in all, I'm feeling pretty good - aching feet but upbeat. Ooh, I think I've just found the title for this post...!
xxx

Well now then, as I sit here on my auntie's computer, a cup of tea and a piece of specially made carrot cake with limey cream topping gurgling contentedly in my belly.  She's over there on the sofa reading the paper.
I'm having a rest!  Yay!

It's been quite a tough first week, getting my body used to the challenge of a 14 kilo rucksack and a daily walk of ten miles.  Getting my brain back into the swing of a long day with no boundaries - nothing to rush to, no next appointment, nothing to cram in.....just miles to be trodden down and that takes hours and hours.  So I sing, I think about stupid things, I watch for signs of Spring.

Then there's the bloody blister.  Boots bought in a rush that were too small and let in water.  Just another part of the terrible preparation I made for this, working too hard and not leaving enough time to allow for the fact that I'm about to walk 3000 miles (!).  Still, it's thanks to all the hard work that I'll have enough money to eat for 8 months.....and send postcards.
Yes, the blister, the whole of the back of my heel in pain.  But no longer, let us not dwell.  It's dry, healing and I've got another 2 days ahead of me without the rucksack.  And new boots!  Glory be, all is right with the world.

So that's where I am, in Shrewsbury, being dropped off tomorrow back at Llandrinio to catch up with the final 17 miles into town, sleeping in a comfy bed for 3 nights and being looked after by my very caring auntie Susie.

What I really want to talk about though is hospitality and generosity - the grace and good nature of the people I've met so far.  They invite me into their homes, they talk to me, they show me all the beauty and kindness and love that humans forget they've got.....all the time.
Olwyn Jones in Welshpool who invited me to speak to the Rotary Club then went to her car and returned with a blister plaster.
The lady on the Made In Shropshire market who saw the big rucksack and presented me with 3 chocolate chip cookies.
John, the lonely man who walked with me out of Newtown along the canal path and talked about the world.
The two workmen out of five, in their toy diggers and dumper trucks, laying the canal path near Pool Quay who popped a pound into my donation box as I squeezed past on the verge, waving my Welsh flag.
The old lady in Newtown who chased me with 50p, put it in the tin and then said "What are you doing it for?"
Paul and Mack, the canoeists who made me a cup of coffee that I didn't have time to drink.
Suzanne the lady who shouted at me from outside the Stag then talked wise things about female body image and self love as she sat in the window making seedling holders.
Heloise who hosted, cared and looked out for me in Llanidloes.
Karen who took in a stranger and enjoyed it.
Laura and John who opened their home to me, the latest in a multitude of wanderers.

All these people and more, they've been bloody brilliant.  And I've counted up the donations I've received between Machynlleth and Shrewsbury and it's £53.40.  And I've counted up the offers of beds along the way and I think it's going to be alright.  I think everything is going to work out.  And I'm really really going to enjoy this!