In three days time I'll have been walking for three months.
I've covered over 650 miles and have walked the lengths of the Severn Way, the Glyndwr's Way, the Offa's Dyke Path, the river Conwy and now I'm heading down the river Dee.
I'm bearing up, mostly -  three visits to the dentist to repair a cracked tooth were a bit uneccessary.  Other than that there's just been the mahoosive blister during the first week and now a painful tendon underneath my right foot.
The rest of me feels fine, full of muscle and capability, it's just my foot that keeps me going slowly.  I've been walking at a very gentle 5 to 8 miles a day for the last two weeks and I hope to be able to work up to 10 or 12.
I won't complete 3000 miles in 8 months, I know that for certain.  The decision about what to do, whether to walk for longer or cut the route shorter can wait until the end of the summer.

I've been a bit up and down this week, hopefully it's temporary but at the moment I'm missing the feeling of staying in one place, the familiarity, the restfulness.  It's hard to be on the move all the time, hard to keep washed and dry and in clean clothes, hard to meet new people every day and hard to carry your life on your back.
It feels strange to find a yearning for home creeping in amongst the buoyancy of all the interest, support and generosity I'm receiving; the stimulation of new places and faces, beautiful sights like a field of wheeling and snorting white horses or feeling a tickling on your neck and finding it's a delicate green lacewing having a rest.

I never used to feel like that - before I knew I was ill I was travelling around, living out of a rucksack, feeling free for almost three years.
Maybe age is changing me, or maybe it's the residue of having been through a life threatening illness.  Or maybe I shouldn't underestimate the effect of being in mild pain all the time, that can be pretty wearing too.

I'm not going to stop, obviously.  I'll complete this walk if I have to build a home and drag it behind me on wheels.  It's just another new part of me to listen to and take into account.  I'll probably feel completely differently next week, or even tomorrow.
Roll on summer and endless sunshine.  Fingers crossed!

It's been a week of beauty and friendliness; I've had a really nice time.

I started out feeling nervous about injury, testing out how much pain would return to my foot after a weeks rest.  I've finished it feeling happy and relaxed after a lovely week of meeting people and beautiful landscapes.

It's all thanks to Deri, my old next door neighbour.  He's the man who has an auntie called Shan who has been absolutely brilliant.

I hitched up from Machynlleth to Conwy, all set to turn away from the coast and back towards the uplands.  I had a new tooth, a reenergised foot and a new river in front of me.  I bought a packet of posh crisps (luxury) and sat in the nature reserve as the sun started to set.  It was a beautiful evening, the light stretching across the estuary and I felt all possibilities opening up to me - would I sleep in the reserve?  Find an open bird hide?  Or maybe further across, paddle around the edge of the estuary, across to Glanconwy and out to some woods on the edge of the village.  But then my phone started buzzing with excited Facebook communications.  I laid out my location and turned the phone off; there was a slightly creepy guy somewhere in the reserve (not the one I spoke to about bird calls, another one!) so I decided to walk along the bottom of the sea wall, under the trainline and up into Glanconwy.  I paused in the Cross Keys pub for a quick half while I waited to see what might happen before bedtime.  More Facebook buzzing.  It was Deri, my old next door neighbour from the Uwchygarreg valley putting me in touch with Shan, his auntie in Capel Curig.  Shan was offering lifts, beds, contacts, communications.  She tagged Irene, could Irene offer a bed?  Yes she could and so I was picked up from outside the pub at ten to ten by Irene.

The next night Shan put the word out on Facebook again; could anyone in Llanrwst help me?  The owners of the Meadowsweet Hotel could, they'd had a late cancellation, so I could hitchike down from the path to Llanrwst and find myself curled up in a hotel bed for the night, not really being able to believe what was happening to me.

Then my mum visited, two nights in a B&B while we visited Bodnant and I could carry on down to Llanrwst.  It rained that day, a big black storm descended and I reached a cafe in the town just in time.  I decided to wait out the rain, first in a cafe and later on in the Eagles Hotel.  The rain pelted down, thunder and lightening was covering Wales and I decided to sit, read and look out of the window for a few hours, also spending time chatting to the people propping up the bar.  One of them offered to pay for a hotel room for me but that felt strange so I said No; he insisted on giving me money to use for a local B&B but I told him I was probably being picked up and I'd put the money into my charity tin.  I didn't like the idea of such a huge sum (relatively speaking) being used just to give me a bed to sleep in; I mean, if I'm going to be able to inspire someone to give me forty pounds, I don't want that money to be wasted on sleeping when I could be perfectly comfortable camping, you know?  Plus I was feeling as if all this luxury was making me lazy; I mean I'm going to all the trouble of lugging camping equipment around on my back, plus food for evening meals and then I never have to use them!!  Since I'd last camped I'd had three nights with Morg in Denbigh, nine with friends in Machynlleth and four being hosted in the Conwy valley I felt as if my camping muscles were growing soft.  I walked out of the Eagles, putting the money into my donation pot and, as night came down around me, found a place to sleep on the edge of a field.  It rained at about 1am but I was safe and warm in my shelter and I managed a good nights sleep until 7am.

The next night found me with Shan in Capel Curig, having picked me up from Betws-Y-Coed; a whirlwind of a woman, it was really inspiring to meet someone working so hard to make change, especially using her area of expertise which is community development.
Shan's word spread ahead of me the next day as I walked up from Betws towards Ysbyty Ifan - she introduced me to the people at the Conwy Falls Cafe and arranged for another host that night at a farm near Ysbyty Ifan.
I walked along the high lands that day, in beautiful sunshine, dipping down to a couple of cafes and finally taking the back road over towards Ysbyty Ifan.  A car coming towards me stopped and a smiley lady called Sioned asked me how I was getting on, the remaining windows were filled with the curious faces of children coming home from school.  It turned out they all knew about me and had been waiting for me to pass the school that day.  They scrambled out of the car and we had a photo; which doesn't show effectively my happiness at the sheer joy of such a random happening.
Finally there was Elin, Alun and their four lovely children.  Elin didn't even know Shan; she'd seen a post that a friend had shared, asking if anyone could help me as I walked up and up the valley and she'd said Yes.  I was dropped off by Alun this morning; they've helped me to walk up from Ysbyty Ifan to Llyn Conwy and keep dry and clean and comfortable at night. I also got to meet their adorable children, practice my meagre Welsh, read a bedtime story to a five year old, eat delicious food and just generally experience a happy, family home.

I don't want to talk too much about each person I met or give a long list of thank yous but it's been a really heartwarming week and I'm really grateful for every kindness - donations, hosting, cups of tea, it's all uplifting.

I haven't asked for this to happen or set out to create it but here it is, kindness and generosity are happening to me and it's reminding me of just how wonderful humans, as individuals, can be.  I feel a lot of fear and mistrust as I move through modern society; we're used to being fed a diet of bad news by a media which only seems to show us how terrible things are and this journey is showing me that things are different, underneath all those layers of perception.  There are still a lot of people in Britain being friendly and nice to each other and with the capacity to do the same for strangers; it's still there, we haven't lost it, remember this.  Community still exists.

As well as all the humans there's also the river and the land.  The Conwy valley has been beautiful; I've been up to hills for a valley view and down alongside the river for a meander.  From the placid, wide estuary right up to the stark and silent moorlands, it's all been stunning.  The weather has helped (in patches) and it's the right time of year for everything to be blooming and blossoming.  I don't think I've ever seen so many bluebells in my life.

Finally, my foot is.....OK........I've mostly walked around 7 miles a day, lots of resting and lots of stretching.  I can't really push it, I can feel that pain is there, ready to come back if I take long steps or try to walk any faster.  But the real difference over the week is relaxing into a new stride, not pushing myself to walk a little bit further every day, not reading the map ahead or thinking about where I can get to the next day or the day after that. 

I'm just walking, I tell myself.  I'm just out for a nice walk.  And it really is.

I set off again today, walking properly.  Yesterday I hitched to Conwy in a whirlwind of people and good vibes, arriving shaken and exilerated.

My foot is hurting, there's no getting away from it.  I am reduced to a very slow walk, taking nothing more than small birdlike steps.
Last week, after I walked to Colwyn Bay there was a very sharp pain inside my heel and I wasn't able to put any weight on the foot.  Now, after a week of rest, it's receded to a bruised ache, with sharper pain coming if I walk for more than an hour at a time.
I managed to walk 5 miles today; stretching my calves regularly and strapping underneath the foot with tape.  It doesn't feel too bad tonight, no throbbing or aching.  I just need to keep this up for another 6 months.

I told myself when I was resting that I'd just set off and take it easy; 5 miles a day would be fine.  I'd just walk slowly up the Conwy valley, letting go of timings and targets.
The things is, it's different while I'm doing it.  My body may be walking slowly but my poor overactive brain moves at a quicker pace than my feet and there are minutes, hours to fill with thinking.
Entire scenarios flash before me, quick as blinking.  Five miles a day is awful;  I'm not quick enough, I'm stupid and ponderous and slow, my stomach flops over the belt of my rucksack, I'm chubby and ridiculous, I'm the worst walker ever.  I am a strong, powerful woman.  I am wonderful and amazing and at the end of this walk, when I finish triumphant I'll be able to write a book and never work again, I'll be able to sit in fields and read books forever.  I've damaged my foot, I'll have to stop, next month, at the end of the week, tomorrow, right now, what will I do, go back to work, end of the walk, no more adventure, I just need to take it easy, it's ok, don't worry, pace yourself, five miles is fine....all this within the space of a few steps. 
There's nothing to distract me from myself, I'm left alone with hours to ponder.
I come out of my brain sometimes and realise that the birds are singing; they've been singing the whole time and I haven't been listening. 
Or I come out of the mental blindness where I am replaying old arguments or forging fresh relationships (mostly sexual, let's face it) and realise that my head is down and I an staring at the road.  There are flowers to look at, a river to follow.  The air is thick with heat and the plants around me are bursting, fecund, spewing seed heads into space, floating hopeful in the air.  There is a whole world here for me to savour and I am shutting the blinds and disappearing into my imagination.
Today was hard, is what I'm saying.  This walk is about so much more than a physical challenge; it's about pushing my mind to constant acceptance and assimilation of change.  I must push forward, strive to achieve what is extraordinary (for me), accept pain as normal, throbbing feet, clicking knees, a heavy rucksack, the discomfort of sleeping outside, of turning an ankle in an uneven field, of finding my way across the countryside, of walking every day for 8 hours, of keeping going, being stubborn, not stopping, focused onward, onward but then somehow also I must, I Must, if this walk is to succeed, practice self care, love my body,  listen to myself, know when to stop.
It's really bloody hard!  But then I think you know that already, don't you.

I'm not having a great time this week. It's been a week of hiccups and holdups, hitches and hiatus.

This time seven days ago found me at the uppermost reaches of the Offa's Dyke Path, coming closer to Prestatyn but never seeming to arrive. I walked and camped onwards from Welshpool, growing ever dirtier. Finally the rains came and I spent a soggy night in the pine forestry at Bwlch Penbarra. I set up a sagging poncho as a shelter, which leaked. The rain started at about 6pm and continued for a few hours. I did the best I could to set up a shelter and after that, all I could do was get into my sleeping bag and read for a few hours.  I'd made a delicious bowl of dried vegetables and couscous, reconstituted with the last of my water but once the rain started I felt like everything was too difficult and miserable and I didn't feel hungry any more. Once I woke up in the morning, I found that a little mouse had crept to the edge of my bag of muesli and enjoyed an entire evening of delicious stolen treats. So the edge of my food bag had mouse poo all over it and so did the bowl of couscous.

I walked in the rain that day, up and down the endless hills of the Clwydian range. Having decided that I was fed up of walking I made an unsuccessful attempt for a local friend to come and pick me up. I was in the wrong car park, she couldn't find the right one, I only had 1% battery left on the phone, she accidentally heard me saying "For fucks sake" when I thought I'd put the phone down. I waited for a while, reading in the shelter of a stone wall, watching the raindrops speckle and darken each page as I learnt about the last months of the life of Malcolm X. I feel like I'm showing off by naming the book I was reading but in saying that, I've also realised that I'm so lowbrow I think it's highbrow to read a biography of any person at all. Currently reading Villette by Charlotte Bronte and next on the list is Ghandi, by the way. Get me.

One nice thing was when I gave up on the pick-up from a friend and walked over the next hill and down to the next car park where a woman got out of her car, called my name and took a picture. It was Morg and Nigel, my hosts in Denbigh. I'd thought I was going to walk to Bodfari and call them to come pick me up but they'd come up the hills to walk their dogs and deided to stick around and see if I turned up. I did! And it meant I didn't have to walk in the rain for another three endless hours with the wind alternately slapping my wet hair into my face and onto the side of my hood.

After a really nice rest day (that was definitely the least tough part of the last week) I left Denbigh, got taken to the Moel Arthur car park and set off to walk the 16 miles to Prestatyn. Today was the day I would finally finish the Offa's Dyke Path, the path I'd started a month ago. My legs thought differently that day, however. I dragged and plodded and grumbled my way through 9 miles, taking til 3 pm just to walk that far. It just seemed to hurt and I greatfully took advantage of the opportunity the Rhuallt Caravan Park bar offered to drink pints and eat expensive crisps. Morg had told me; if you can't find a place to stay in Prestatyn just call us and we'll come pick you up. I gratefully took advantage of this too.

While I was sitting in the bar, enjoying several pints of John Smiths I made an unsettling discovery. The tooth that had cracked ten days previously, the one I'd travelled back to Machynlleth for, breaking the walk at Knighton in order to have a temporary filling put in and for the dentist to tell me "We'll see if it moves." Yeah, that one. It had moved. A full quarter of my molar was coming away from the rest of the tooth. I felt rubbish; it was the Saturday of a bank holiday weekend and I couldn't phone the dentist until Tuesday. The really horrible feeling was the interuption to the walk...again. I felt as if I was crawling, sluggishly across the land, never actually achieving any goals or getting anywhere. I had to stop, hitch back to Machynlleth, have more painful dentistry (that I am scared of), recover and hitch back to walk again.

I just felt shit and had a strong urge to get very very drunk. I didn't though; I got picked up by Morg and taken back to Denbigh where I could eat a baked potato and lie on a leather sofa watching Britain's Got Talent and feeling sorry for myself.

I kept walking; there was nothing else to do. Fortunately the tooth didn't hurt; I just had to chew on one side of the mouth only, avoiding any strange tongue movements. I made it to Prestatyn by lunchtime the following day. The end of the Offa's Dyke Path felt great, another section of the walk finished and there was still time in the day to walk along the Coastal Path a bit, to Rhyl.

Where Prestatyn was pretty ordinary; Rhyl was awful. A booze smelling, glass strewn dive of a town. Sorry people of Rhyl but I don't like your place. I realised when I arrived there that there would be nowhere quiet and clean to camp. No ground within walking distance would be untouched by assortments of pissed people, their dogs and their various excretions. I sat in a cafe drinking two pots of tea, surrepticiously rubbing my aching feet and looking at Google Maps to try and find the nearest green space. Colwyn Bay it was, the town with green within walking distance and so I took a train over there, paying 8 quid to do so.

A lovely spot in a quiet field awaited me and I could sleep peacefully and take a train back to wonderful Rhyl the next morning; the smell of vomit floating on the breeze as soon as I came out of the station.

The days walk to my host in Colwyn Bay was fairly uneventful, just a long, boring walk along promenade and then cycle path. It felt strange to be somewhere so flat and samey after weeks of walking inland where you're constantly climbing hills or turning corners. At all times of my day's walk, I could turn around and see Rhyl in the misty background behind me. My feet were aching but no more than normal and I made it up the steep hill to Vicky the Couchsurfers house.

Unfortunately, once I'd cooled down, I couldn't really walk properly. Sharp pains underneath my right foot whenever I put my heel to the ground, it was impossible to bear weight on it. The next day was better on waking, I walked over to Conwy and spent a pleasant few hours there before hitching back to Machynlleth but on arriving at my friends house I was limping again and in pain.

So there we have it; another enforced break, another scary dentists visit and this time a painful foot injury into the bargain. I've looked it up and the result (authenticated by Google) is that I have plantar faciitis - a straining of the tendon that runs under the bottom of the foot, resulting in pain where the tendon is connected to the heel bones. The scary part is that this won't go away; I'll just have to be really careful about stretching and mileage so as not to strain it again.

I've decided not to go back to Conwy until Monday and to just take it easy for a week or so, even just walking less than five miles a day, if I can find a good enough book to fill the intervening hours.

Deciding this (to take a break) feels frightening at first. Many worries fill my mind and I wonder whether I can complete this walk. I'll feel better once I get out there again; I'm sure of it.