The Final Day, 24 July

Well, 4am and here we go again. We're getting quite used to this time of day and it has to be said there is a fair amount of excitement as the final day starts. I immediately sense that the relatively lacklustre public support of yesterday has once again moved up into top gear. For me, all of the agony and doubt of yesterday's first 25km are gone. For Emily and Kate, although they kept it quiet unless asked directly, they struggle on mainly in pain from the heat rash.

Today is another flat day, speaking about the geography, and with daylight comes sunshine and steadily rising temperatures. Although temperatures are due to be high thunderstorms are forecast. In the morning the only hint of these come when we get to the river bridge at Grave and the heavens start to open. Out come all of the ponchos, but no sooner are we settled into them than it stops and slowly they are removed. Once more the sun appears.

There is definitely an atmosphere in the air, one of expectation and excitement. The military groups and Dutch Police, always in fine voice, are singing lustily today and we lap up the atmosphere. Every small village has turned out in force and the music, both live and recorded blasts out at us we plod on and on, never failing to raise our spirits (though please can we have something other than Village People and YMCA?).

The crowds are big today, but as we get to 13km from the end a Dutchman tells us the party will really start. Emily is temporarily kidnapped by a group of Dutch soldiers and Kate visibly perks up whenever there is a uniform in sight (but please don't upset the Scots by asking what the red and yellow lion flag is all about).

And the party does hot up. Villages now appear with crash barriers holding back the crowds, looking very Tour de France. The cheering and singing goes off the scale, especially the favourite little Dutch ditty that has no words...I really can't explain but it's a sort of unofficial anthem and very popular. People disappear off into the crowds to be greeted by loved ones who've come to see them in action. For me, the pain of constant footslogging on tarmac (another 60,000 steps) is eased by the electric atmosphere.

All the walkers are now crowded together on the road and the pace is slower. The crowds get deeper and deeper. The Dutch Police provide a marching band preceded by a Mounted Section and we enter onto the Via Gladiola, the last 5 miles in Nijmegen itself. Crowds hang out of windows, draped all over balconies, even sitting on rooves to get a view. The pace slows again and overtaking becomes impossible. Strangers thrust gladioli into your hands as literally millions are handed out, all walkers must have at least one.

The TV cameras become more plentiful. We approach a major road junction controlled by a police officer on a podium, flamboyant in white hat, controlling traffic and walkers with a white baton. I find out it's his very last day at work and he rightly milks the occasion. He lets us proceed and we all cheer. We start to see the first of the grandstands, still no sign of thunderstorms thank goodness. It's actually getting hotter. Before we know it we are in the final stage, massive crowds everywhere and the volume goes up and up. The Dutch Chiefs of Staff salute us! In small villages the mayor and local police and fire chiefs had saluted us, now it was the turn of the bigwigs.

Then we see it, the finishing banner, below suddenly grey skies. We approach, hold hands, and cross the line together, arms in the air with a huge cheer. We've done it, and I know we are all so proud of what we have done. For my part I know that meeting Emily, Kate and Ben has helped pull me through. More mentally than physically, this would have been a very difficult task without them and I say, "thank you!" I salute Kate as she had done no preparation beforehand and every step appeared to be in pain. I salute Emily as, like me, she walked miles in preparation.

We hurry to our finishing stations, sign in, are congratulated and are awarded our medals. We meet up and I grab a passer by and she takes a photo of us as literally the heavens open. I am proud of our events and proud that I hit my target of £1500 for BLESMA. The pain endured by those young men and women injured in our armed forces vastly eclipsing my discomfort. I did this for me, as a challenge; for them to pay some of our debt and for the memory of Captain Alex Eida, killed in Afghanistan. I salute them all.

Then it's off for a couple of beers, then into town for a meal with my new friends, whom I shall miss very much, but whom I hope to see again in the future.

Roll on next year. For I will be back.

Thursday 23 July

Day 3 was the day I was not looking forward to. I had read before that it can be the hardest psychologically. You've spent two days walking and have reached halfway, the third day still leaves you a day short of finishing. I was also very much amused by an article on Dutch TV, yes the Marches are well covered on national TV; the Dutch were referring to the seven hills that have to be climbed as 'mountains' (tongue firmly in cheek). They interviewed a German soldier who said, "You call these mountains, they're tarmac!" Not bad for someone who speaks neither German nor Dutch.

My room-mate told me that anyone from Germany or Britain would not be troubled by the hills.

So, four am arrived and there were Kate and Emily at the start, Ben had had to drop out because of the state of his feet. We got to the start line, took one step and cheered: less than halfway to go! The day started off quite well with the usual crowds lining the route and cheering us on. To my mind though the route covered more rural areas than the other days and so there were periods when there no crowds. I now also know what is meant by the phrase 'hitting the wall'. As we got nearer to the 25km mark I began to flag. I dropped behind Kate and Emily and just could not catch up. Worse, everyone else seemed to be overtaking me too. Nothing I did made the situation any better and my mind began to turn to thoughts of having to give up. The souls of my feet felt very tender and it all became a hard slog. As we approached the 25km rest station the clouds darkened and the rain started literally minutes after arriving.

I took the opportunity to take my shoes and socks off, massage my feet, put on clean socks and then eat and drink. By now the rain was lashing down but, miraculously, I felt so much better when we started off again, I'd got over the wall.

However, it then proceeded to rain solidly and heavily for 5 hours. We were all wearing ponchos and I was wearing shorts. The rain ran down my legs, soaked through my socks and filled my shoes. I took each step with the thought, 'don't get a blister, don't get a blister'. It really became miserable now. Wet, so much you did not want to turn round. Worried about your feet and still miles to go.

The hills arrived and for most of them you would not notice them in a car. They were really no trouble at all. At the last one the rain stopped and we took the opportunity of sitting on the verge, removing shoes and socks and letting both socks and feet dry out. Our feet looked like wrinkled prunes and poor old Kate had so much tape and so many plasters on her feet that everyone who walked passed looked askance at her. Eventually we got going again with the first pair of socks now back on again, my feet blue with the dye from the second pair.

At least now the mood had lightened considerably, the sun came out and every step took us closer to home. Once again I dreamed of a nice cold beer or two. Eventually up came the finishing line and with great relief we finished. For me I felt my worst day was over. I was confident I would now finish. Kate and Emily were suffering terribly from heat rash around the feet and ankles as well the various aches, pains and chafing of the feet. Little did I know that they did not share my optimism for tomorrow.

Wednesday 22 July 2009

Day 2. Once again a nice cycle ride into town to warm up the muscles. Then it was a case of buying some water and waiting for Ben, Kate and Emily to arrive. Soon it was 4am and there we were, bright eyed and bushy tailed waiting to go!

We headed out to the south of the city today, down the very road I'd just cycled up. After the usual frenetic cheering of the party-goers, today's start soon settled down into a more quiet affair than yesterday. I was wearing a different pair of boots today as part of my plan to alternate them. I soon discovered that I had developed a patch of hard skin right on the apex of my left heel which I hadn't noticed yesterday. During the first ten miles or so this started to play on my mind and I must have compensated for it in my walking action as my left knee began to hurt.

Quite quickly the four of us broke into two groups and Ben and Kate fell behind us, not to be seen again until the finish. Emily and I ploughed on and slowly but surely the crowds began to gather again and grow in number, as did the temperature and humidity; they climbed to 27 degrees and over 70%, making for another clammy, sticky day where water intake became crucial.

The joy of Nijmegen was soon revealed when I was explaining to Emily how pleased I was that my train from Amsterdam to Nijmegen had stopped right outside the stadium of Ajax Amsterdam. I had been a fan of Ajax ever since the early 70s, from the days of Cruyff and Neeskens. As I said this a man was walking past and said, "Ajax, pah!" Naturally we began talking and did so for over half an hour. He and his brother were Nijmegen veterans who came from Rotterdam and so supported Feyenoord. We had a great time with them talking of everything under the sun, until they reached the point where their wives were meeting them for lunch.

As before the atmosphere in the towns and villages was electric with live music and Dutch and Europop competing (if I never hear 'YMCA' again it will be too soon). As we crossed motorway the air was full of the sound of car horns and HGV hooters, just brilliant. It really does help; you can be tired and flagging as you walk into a village and instantly the cheers and singing will revive your spirits.

Day two was again finished around 3pm and a few more beers were sunk in the Vedren under a baking sun until Ben and Kate arrived, clearly nursing poorly feet. In fact Kate and Emily were also suffering from heat rashes around their feet and ankles which was extremely sore. Mind you, so were lots of other people as it appeared common. Another quick bite to eat, a cycle home and I was in bed by not long after 8pm, ready for the early morning alarm.

Tuesday 21 July

I parked my bike in one of the many large bicycle parks...taking very careful note of where I'd left it given how many racks there were. The cycle in had been good, warm but pleasant. I did notice lots of young people cycling in the opposite direction, they turned out to be students on their way home at 3.30 am after a night on the pop. Many of them called out "Succes" to those of us cycling into town, and our numbers grew with every passing yard, sorry metre.

I made my way into the Vedren, the central area which served as the walkers' village. It was pretty full. Whilst waiting for the gun at 4 am three blokes next to me started asking me questions. With their two dozen words of English and my equal number of German words we made ourselves understood and had quite a laugh in the process. It turned out we were all first-timers. I never saw them again after the start. A loud cheer greeted the gun and 17 minutes later I crossed the start line, had my bar code scanned and began. There were wild scenes all around me as more students cheered us in an excess of beer but it made for a great atmosphere. I slowly followed the throng and realised my own pace would not be possible. We went out of the city to the north and very soon crossed the bridge over the Waal.

It started to get light and the number of spectators slowly grew. People with garden furniture at the end of their garden, bunting and flags in every street. Parties in full swing with hi-fis on, or live music being played. The atmosphere was that of one great, gigantic street party. The line of walkers snaked for miles already and I realised I had not yet seen or heard an English voice, only Dutch and German. Amongst 40,000 people I felt quite lonely.

After a couple of miles I saw an English couple, recognisable by the flags they flew from their rucksacks. I spoke to them as we walked but they were walking too slowly for me and, at a bottleneck, we lost contact. On my own again I realised this was going to be hard work. After 5 or 6 miles I was overtaking a small group of people when one of them spoke English and we immediately started talking. They were all from the Reading area, Kate and Emily were teachers, Ben a paramedic. They let me join them and on we went, chatting about everything under the sun, which was now out and the temperature was climbing. It turned out Kate had had the idea of doing the walk and invited the others but only Emily had done much practise, regularly walking 30 miles. Once the 30 and 40km walkers had left us the pace quickened markedly and I marvelled at how they kept it up.

Every village and town we passed through the crowds grew bigger and noisier. Brass bands started playing and adults and children were everywhere doling out sweets, cakes, biscuits, fruit and drink, in addition stall holders selling it. Clearly food and drink would not be a problem, unlike the toilet stops which were, as hundreds queued to use them. We stopped for food and it was clear that Ben and to a lesser extent Kate were suffering with their feet. On we went for mile after mile. Ben began to suffer more and more. Emily and I began to wonder how long the walk was as it was taking us much longer than our training walks. It was difficult to measure how far we had gone and how far was left. The temperature climbed to 25 degrees with 60-70% humidity and drinking became the preoccupation. We stopped for a rest when Kate became light-headed and off we went again only to discover, after 5 minutes that Kate and Ben were nowhere to be seen. Fortunately they called Emily on her mobile and told us to carry on as they were resting again. So, off we trooped, soon dreaming thirstily after a drink of beer once we'd finished.

The course seemed to go on forever and our spirits flagged somewhat. Eventually the bridge and town came back into view and after many detours around the suburbs we came back to the start point. Slightly confused by the lack of a finish sign we checked in at our desks and day 1 was over. We found out later that it had been 32 miles long. Our beers tasted nice after 11.5 hours on the road but we were a quarter of the way there. Ben and Kate came in within the time limit but Ben's feet were a mess. Never mind day 1 was over. I got food and then gingerly cycled home to shower and hit my bed. Mario my room mate had finished three hours before me but never mind.

Just time to get 4 or 5 hours' kip before the alarm went off at 2.30 am again...

Monday 20 July 2009

Up nice and early and arrive at the airport in plenty of time for my 6am flight. Am amazed to be given an extra legroom seat without having to ask for it.

Flight goes well and we start to descend to Amsterdam as soon as we get to cruising height. We land as far away from the terminal as possible and it's 20 minutes of taxiing to get there. From the terminal it's a very short walk to the train station but here problems arise as neither the automatic ticket machine nor the counter machine will accept any of my cards, so good old cash comes into its own.

The train itself is brilliant and runs well to time. An unexpected bonus is that the second stop is right outside Ajax's stadium. I arrive in Nijmegen less than two hours after landing and leave the station not really knowing where to go. I see two women who were on my flight and follow them, guessing they are going to the walk too. At a junction I catch them up and, yes, they know where to go, great.

The sun is baking the city and it's not fun carrying two bags in the heat. I check in and receive the all important cards for the walk. Then I hang around, soaking up the atmosphere, buy a bus pass and get on a bus heading for the suburb where I'm staying. I soon realise I do not have a clue where to get off or go. Fortunately a man asks the driver a question in Dutch and I recognise the name of the road where I'm going to be staying. My guide takes me to the street, he is staying at the house opposite mine. He informs me there are no buses to get me to the start point in the morning, oh my god.

Anyway I knock on the door and am let in my Heelen, who apologises for speaking only slightly less than perfect English. She shows me my room and tells me my German room-mate hasn't arrived yet. She makes a phone call and within 5 minutes she has secured a bike for me to use. So, there I am cycling 3km into town to sus out the route. I park the bike, no problems there as there are loads of bike parks in Holland and make my way back to the Vedren, the square where the event is based. I soak up the atmosphere, as they soak up the beer; can they really be walking in a few hours' time? For once I think, "What am I doing here?" I get something to eat and cycle back, getting lost in the process. I meet my room-mate, Mario, a German Customs official and five time veteran of the Vierdaagse. He tells me we'll get up at 02.30 in the morning and that I should leave by 03.20 for the 4am start :-O

So, it's an early night then! But I still end up with four hours' sleep for the second night running. At 2.30 the alarm goes...

The time is now!

Well, that's it, I'm packing and it's time for the off. 400 miles completed, only 120 to go. What's more England are beating the Aussies! If I can I will update this blog while I'm away.

Here's hoping and praying.

Snowdon

Today I went up Snowdon for the first time in years. My son had never been to the summit and so I promised him we would go after his GCSEs. We went up on the Pyg Track and I have to admit we were both blowing hard when that path joins the Llanberis Path just short of the summit. At least I know the heart and lungs work.

Although it stayed dry the summit was shrouded in cloud so we saw nothing. At least we got to enjoy frequent flypasts by an RAF Merlin helicopter, very interesting indeed.

We came down on the Miners Track which again was hard going, especially on the legs. It only started to rain during the last couple of miles so we got off quite lightly.

More good news: I have hit my target of raising £1500 for BLESMA through the Nijmegen Marches. I am well pleased.