two feet,
four paws
Walking the Coastline of Britain
spud talbot-ponsonby
TWO FEET, FOUR PAWS
Copyright Spud Talbot-Ponsonby, 2009
First published 1996. Reprinted 1996, 1997, 1999 and 2001.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced by any means, nor transmitted, nor translated into a machine language, without the written permission of the publishers.
The right of Spud Talbot-Ponsonby to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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Acknowledgements
My sincerest thanks go to the following people, who were all responsible for the success of the Walk: 27 drivers, whose good humoured patience and unwavering support enabled us to keep going; everyone who put us up, and put up with us en route, and sent us on our way washed, fed and re-charged; the hundreds of people who tended to the Spudtruck, donated food and helped in too many ways to mention; and above all my family especially my sisters, PC and Charles, and my unique father, Pops, whose staunch belief in me both during the Walk and during the writing of this book has kept me going through the bleaker hours.
My thanks also go to the 20 members of the Walk committee, who helped procure sponsors and get the project off the ground; and to all the sponsors, especially Berghaus, Cable and Wireless, Scottish Communications, Pet City, Travellers Tales (Talking Books), Thistle Hotel Group, Rank Organisation; and to all the many, many people who donated pennies and pounds. I wish I could mention you all.
Finally my thanks go to Ffyona Campbell for her advice and encouragement; and to the following people who have allowed Tess and I into their various homes during the writing of this book from the Western Highlands of Scotland, to Lands End; Derek and Pamela Powell, Anne Evans, Richard and Shally Hunt and Sally Stone.
Above all do not lose your desire to walk: every day I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk myself away from every illness: I have walked myself into my best thoughts, and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it... but by sitting still, and the more one sits still, the closer one comes to feeling ill... Thus, if one just keeps on walking, everything will be alright.
Sren Kierkegaard
Contents
Foreword
The hardest question for any long distance walker to answer is the inevitable Why ? There is rarely a simple answer. Spuds underlying motives were clearly the cause she was walking for, but as her journey unfolds and her curiosity of the country increases, her journey becomes something much more. Her story illustrates that you dont necessarily need to travel the world to find a diversity and richness in country and culture, as she takes us on a colourful trip ranging from the back streets of Middlesbrough, to the incredible isolation of the Scottish Highlands, to the miles of Britains promenades.
Walking allows you to see and feel things you miss at twentieth-century speed. It is therefore the appropriate way to witness a country and its people, and Spud brings Britain to life in a way that is humorous, yet poignant and refreshingly honest. This book might just make you think twice about fleeing abroad at the first opportunity.
Of course, her journey is also brought to life by the irrepressible Tess, whose role is vital. It is through her ever-cheerful nature that many of Spuds encounters are initiated, and awkward barriers removed. Perhaps everyone needs a friend like Tess?
Ffyona Campbell
Preface
Is it true that travellers who set out to explore some part of our globe experience more than their average amount of luck? And is this why they are given shelter by strangers; offered beasts of burden to lighten heavy loads; offered food when their plates are empty; found by guardian angels in the absence of human life; and find more goodness than maliciousness at every turn? Could this all be luck?
Or is it that if you take the risk of the journey and trust whatever fate it holds, you will be shown the inherent goodness which still makes up our world however hidden it often may be?
Through our journey I came to realise that by making oneself available to that inherent goodness, you will notice that all is not lost in the midst of our consumerist, often selfish, and sometimes violent society. It is important that we realise this, and that each of us, in our own way, can make such journeys of exploration; for it is often there on our doorstep.
But there was still an element of luck in my journey.
Three weeks after the walk was completed I was stung by a bee an insignificant event under normal circumstances except this time I was to discover I had developed a potentially fatal reaction to bee stings: anaphylactic shock. Within 20 minutes I was fighting for breath, lost my sight, and finally consciousness. The haste with which I was taken to the doctor saved my life. It was a matter of minutes.
The experience left me wondering how I had spent the last ten months of my life in glorious isolation, often miles from habitation, let alone a doctor, and yet had not been stung by a bee...
1
London to Cromer
When the alarm went off at 6 a.m. on Sunday 1 August 1993, I had no idea that in six hours time I would be setting off to walk the equivalent distance of London to Calcutta. But perhaps Tess had been struck by a moment of enlightenment, and it was for this reason that she was nowhere to be found when our back-up vehicle, the Spudtruck, was ready to leave for Tower Bridge.
At this stage I had only belonged to Tess for one month, and we were experiencing the struggle for dominance common at the start of all relationships between man and beast. Tess was winning the battle. I eventually found her in the farthest corner of the house, ignoring my calls and happily shredding a sheepskin rug into tiny pieces. Her bright eyes shone out in victory.
Blackmailing her into following me with promises of a walk was not going to work. She had heard the word so much that she knew it was a waste of energy to rush for the door. In desperation I resorted to the voice intonation favoured by dog owners throughout Britain and, in what is equivalent to goo goo, gaa, gaa in baby language, I cried Walkies! She was soon leaving a trail of wool down the stairs and into the Spudtruck.