Jun
06

A Long Walk

[Apologies ahead of time for spelling errors. No spell check and writing on limited time]

Applying lip balm is painful when your lips are cracked and feeling rather enlarged–like you’ve eaten something you are allergic to. These are the same lips that confidently muttered yesterday (around two hours into my walk) “I feel so good, I could walk to Padstow!” This means nothing to those who are not looking at a map of origin and destination, so let me simplify–You are out for a long run, say ten miles, and you proclaim: I could run a marathon today! And then you Do! But let’s not give you much to eat and let’s give you three blisters, a twelves pound pack, and the (albeit beautiful) hot glaring sun. Oh, and don’t forget the hiking shoes because you can’t actually run becasue of the narrow passage which plummets up and down no less than thirty times. Now are you ready?

Those ill-fated lips were heard by the universe and when I reached my intended stopping point of Port Issac I learned there was no room at the inn or any inn. I sat and pondered my fate: Go inland by bus and seek accommodations or press on and hope for something to materialize between here and Padstow. There were twelve miles between me and the next ‘real’ town and I had already gone close to fifteen. I figured is was less than what I had gone, but it was also 2:30 in the afternoon. I decided to press on.

Before leaving, I stopped in a sandwich shop and ordered a cheese and tomato sandwich for take away. The man took my order in an overly cheerful manner. In a bright blue apron he was surrounded with shelves of kitchy coffee service items and photos. “Here to see the filiming?” “Filming?” I said, “Oh, no. What are they filing?” “Doc Martin, of course.” “Doc Martin?” “You know Doc Martin?!” This I wasn’t sure if it came with an exclamation point or a question mark. My face gave me away. “The T.V.Show!” “Oh, right.” I said “They film here and the town gets mobbed.” It was then that I noticed beside the colorful sugar holders and creamers were chocolate bars and pot holders with Doc Martin’s face. Above that were a dozen or so cheaply framed 8×10 publicity photos of who I persumed to be Doc Martin’s crew. I didn’t actually know the show other than I had heard of it. I thanked the man and made my way to the end of the lane, back towards the path–walking directly in front of two lighting guys resting on their heels and smoking fags and a woman with a headset and sporting an official looking laynard telling a woman that the red scarf had to go!

With one tomato and cheese sandwich swinging from my shoulder strap, a refill of my water, and an I can do this! attitude, I set off. I was making about 2 and a half miles an hour–I know that sounds slow, but refer back to the accessory details. I thought I could make it to Polzeath–the town prior to Padstow–by 6:30. There I imagined a b&b which I had a number for but was unsuccessful in reaching back in Port Issac.

About an hour into the new extended hike, I pulled up at a bench. You will see a bench along the path occassionally with some kind of marker. A memorial or gift to someone. This one read: Barry Forde A wonderful person. Loved by Everyone 1962-2009. I wondered about Barry as I re-fashioned my sporty washcloth shoulder pads, re-tied my jacket, lattered on more sunscreen and took the first bite of my sandwich. Who was Barry? How nice it was of his friends or family to place a bench in this remote spot–a spot unprotected by wind in which you could look north or south for miles and straight west onto a huge rock that stood unconnected to land in the ocean. I was starting to feel the firsts hints of fatigue with a bitter taste of self-pity. No one even knew where I was at this moment.

I shook off the self pity and stumbled on, being careful that fatigue did not translate into falling. The hours wore on and every twenty or thirty minutes I’d pull the sandwich, while maintaining my stride, and have a bite. I started thinking about the back up plans: “What if no b&b? What if no place to sleep?” I could go to a pub, get a meal, clean up in their bathroom and layer on all my clothes. Then I could find a park bench. This provided that I actually found a pub and a park bench! All I had going now was a rocky, dusty trail and some meadows that I could share with the sheep. Possibilities turned cursing myself for not making better plans. The dialogue went something like: “Ann, what were you thinking? Go to a foreign country and decline to make reservations–thinking what? You’d just wing it during the warm summer season along the coast? Hello Ann, perhaps you’d like to consider a visit to Planet Common Sense??! Winging it might have sounded cool and adventuresome from the other side of the pond, but now it is just DAFT!”

Late into the afternoon I rounded the headland for Polzeath. It was here that I started on a new mantra, repeating: “I do have a place to stay tonight. I do have a place to stay tonight!” I repeated this and while it sounds silly now, it actually cheered me up quite a bit. Around 6:45 I figured I was close enough to make cell connection and tried the b&b. A man answered. He sounded older and I launched into my prediciment thinking I’d work in how I’d be willing to sleep on a couch or even floor. “Geez, that’s a helluva walk! We have a room for you luv, no problem. You’ll just need to take the water taxi over at this hour.” The water taxi?? “I thought you were in Polzeath?” “No, dear, Padstow…you still have 3 miles to go before the taxi. Best get a move on and ring us from the water.”

I cursed but was immediately grateful. I can do three more miles. In Polzeath proper I ducted into a convenient store and got a lemon sparkling water which I downed in two minutes time and headed off to the path. Of course I passed by the small path sign on the first go and had to circle back…noting no pubs but a few park benches and alot of surf shops. A made my way along the beach where evening brought families to the beach for cookouts and I tramped by with my worn look, pack, and boots. I made it to the water taxi pick up and called Peter, my b&b host. He said he and his wife Jane were waiting up for me and had gone down to the taxi and told the man to watch out for a “young, attractive American girl.” The water taxi arrived and the man helped me aboard…”Walked a far piece today, have ya?” “Yep,” I answered, “Kinda crazy.” “I’d say,” he quipped and we were off.

Walking up to Peter and Jane’s door I heard a man’s voice from inside shout: “She’s here. She’s made it!”

In an instant I felt I was going not into a stranger’s home but into a familiar space–like arriving at your grandparents. “My goodness lass, you trying to give that American–What’s his name–Bill something–what is it Jane? That Bill Bryson a run for his money? Well, you better bathe and get to bed, you’ll be wanting to make it out early tomorrow so you can make it to Penzance!” (A ridiculous way out)

We laughed and then I bit my chapped lips, sucking in my grateful tears.

May
29

The Right Sized Gift

This morning I have the opportunity to be with my friends in the park at sunrise and enjoy the day’s new light as we do yoga together. It will be the last morning I am with my friends until I return from my hiking trip. It will be a chance to be together and enjoy the elements of nature. What a gift. Continue reading “The Right Sized Gift” »

May
28

In the Company of Community

There is a reason I rise early every morning. It is not just because my inner clock goes off. I do not bounce out of bed thinking “Hot diggity, it’s 4am, let the party begin!” No, I’m rather slow to awaken. I enjoy the sounds of the early time, I like to hear the train rumble across the tracks, hear the first birds taking to the tree limbs. Honestly, I could stay in bed for quite a bit longer and be completely happy, but I don’t because life has given me a very valuable gift—the gift of a caring community. Continue reading “In the Company of Community” »

May
27

S-E-R-V-I-C-E…

When I owned a retail business, many would ask my partner and I what made us different. The answer was strong and sincere: Service. We offered a great product. We offered a good atmosphere. We loved the work that we did. But underlying all the individual attributes was one thing: Service. Continue reading “S-E-R-V-I-C-E…” »

May
26

Open Your Interpretations

I have never learned to play an instrument…unless a radio counts. I have always admired jazz and been astounded how one piece of music can have so many versions. Jazz musicians do not merely repeat a piece of music, they interpret it. I was thinking about this as news filtered in that a wonderful jazz pianist, Mulgrew Miller, had suffered a stroke. I then wondered, is it possible to take a page from the jazz songbook, to take a cue from the great jazz legends, and consider taking a different interpretation to this thing called living? Continue reading “Open Your Interpretations” »

May
25

Wrestling the Waves

Sometimes in life we wade into the waves and wrestle our way into the deeper depths of the ocean. It is not easy—the water is cold, the waves are large. Sometimes they catch us by surprise and take our breath away. Life can be like that. We wade through issues, we slowly acclimate to temperatures, we find our relief within the forces of nature, the forces of discomfort. Continue reading “Wrestling the Waves” »

May
24

To hate is to harbor, to be kind is to connect.

There are words and phrases that sting me. Slap me in to the present. Sometimes they make me laugh and think good joyous thoughts—think zip a dee doo dah You’re smiling, aren’t you? But then there are words that bite and make me feel sad and confused. Continue reading “To hate is to harbor, to be kind is to connect.” »

May
22

The Compassionate Critic

I am at school…learning how to be a writer, or to be more precise, I am putting my writing out there and letting others split it wide open. A bloodletting might be less painful. Actually, I am—shockingly—being over dramatic. It is a very good and supportive place to be and to learn. But exposing myself to criticism, smiling and nodding my head as someone says—I just don’t get what you’re trying to say here—is not an easy thing to do. Yet, when given and more importantly received in the light of compassion and kindness criticisms can be helpful. Continue reading “The Compassionate Critic” »

May
21

Definition of Choice

[post from May 21, 2013…that didn’t get to website]
I went out for a run yesterday morning. It was my first real attempt at a run in two months. On St. Patty’s Day, I pulled a hamstring during a long run. Every attempt to go back to the pavement has been thwarted so I pulled back and started letting time take care of my hamstring. I took to the bike for exercise and to the pool to keep me moving. I missed running, like I miss an old friend who has moved away. But like the old friend, I knew the running was still out there and would return. Continue reading “Definition of Choice” »

May
20

Dare for a Little Frivolity

Some of us might remember the game Truth or Dare when we were kids. I won’t speak for anyone else, but the Truths part were usually pretty lame and the Dares were pretty innocuous. Yet, they made us get out of our comfort zone, made us consider something else. Continue reading “Dare for a Little Frivolity” »

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