30th July 2007. Day three, Phase two.

My Dictaphone recording says:

"I realise I am very low on water, and I've another couple of hours to get to Belcoo, but I have to get there because I will need water. I have a half-litre of milk and I'll have to rely on that for a while. My legs are killing me. I enjoyed the trip up to lunchtime but after that it has become endurance. I would do things differently if doing this again, but right now I'm going to have to carry on. My legs are sore, sore, sore, but I'll struggle on because I don't have much choice. "

At that time I remember thinking to myself that in lots of other situations where things are difficult I usually have some sort of way out. Maybe ring somebody, or send for help, or spend money, or just give up what you're doing and go for a pint or go home. But it struck me that out here, I had very few choices. I could stop, put up my tent and endure an uncomfortable thirsty night. And then in the morning try to get to Belcoo while dehydrated. That didn't seem like the appropriate or sensible thing to do. I remember thinking "No - I have to keep going". Then I got jitters in my stomach. Adrenalin was doing its job. The problem became another challenge. We all love a challenge. My legs were sore but I marched forward, feeling remarkably upbeat. I was going to get to Belcoo, and that was that. Adrenalin is a great thing. I focused on that map because I knew it would be a disaster, OK a problem, to get lost now. And to get around my sore legs I just concentrated on getting to the next major turn in the road. That's all I needed to do - just get to the next major turn and take a rest. Anything after that would be for later but for now - just the next big turn. And so it went - breaking the journey into short manageable sections.

My sincere apologies for the lack of photos in this section. As you might imagine, I wasn't in the form for photography. So this may be for you as it was for me - a struggle to get through!

Those short manageable sections went on, and on, and on. It was difficult to remain positive. I didn't all the time, but I quickly brought myself back when the drudgery of walking with this heavy load started getting me down. The time passed and bit by bit so did the major turns. I was getting there. At one turn, which I thought to be the last before the hill down out of the forest, I came around the bend and a long long section of forest track lay in front of me. I knew I had been a bit optimistic about that particular turn. I could see from my map that it might be the last turn or it might be the one before - with a long section still left. I looked at the big walk in front of me, took my rucksack off and lay flat down on the forest track with my head on the ground looking up at the sky. It was about 7:30pm. The stones on the back of my head were uncomfortable but I could have slept right there. My body didn't want to move another metric meter. I got so comfortable I had to prevent myself from falling asleep! Getting up from there and putting on my rucksack was very difficult, but I was back walking again.

I walked the long section, feeling better and better as I got closer to the turn that would take me out of the forest and down into Belcoo. It was about 8pm and I wanted to get there by 9pm so that I'd be able to put my tent up in daylight if I couldn't get into a B&B. Looking at the map now I still can't figure out how I went wrong. There is clearly a crossroads on the map where I should have taken a right turn, and the crossroads even said "No Entry" on the track that went straight on, but for some reason I went straight. I suspect I was watching the GPS, which indicated straight on for Belcoo, but the map clearly shows I needed to go right. I was tired, even exhausted, hungry, thirsty, and I obviously let my guard down. I went straight and less than half a kilometre down that track it turned from a gravel surface into wet grass, and then bog. I persevered for a few minutes and then realised I might have taken the wrong turn. The thoughts of going back was appalling. I looked back up the hill from where I had just come from. Going back uphill in this tired condition? Or straight on and follow the GPS to Belcoo, and a nice comfortable bed in a welcoming B&B? I kept going. Foolishly.

Within 200 metres I was hiking down through a field of clumps of reeds and marsh. Cattle had passed through here because the ground, being water-laden, was extremely rutted. In-between the clumps of reeds was water and muck. I ended up trying to go from one clump of reeds to the next, like stepping stones. And doing that, trying to balance with 30Kg on my back, was downright precarious. Every so often I would slip or misjudge and my foot would go down into a wet soggy hole in the ground. This could have been very dangerous so I was cautious not to go fast. If my weight was going forward and my leg got stuck in a hole my momentum could easily break my leg. I was now raging with myself. I should have been on an easy forest track down to the road but instead, tired and sore, I was here trying to battle my way through a marshy field full of mounds of reeds, in the middle of nowhere, getting close to dusk. But the body is a great thing. As I battled I suddenly realised that I wasn't actually tired anymore, and from concentrating on getting my footwork right, all pain was gone. That actually lifted my spirits and I felt better and better. I recall thinking that this was just another challenge thrown up by the whole expedition and I'd manage it. So I battled on and got to the end of the field, past the trees and out into an open flat grass field.

This was easier walking but I had no idea where I was. Some careful reading of the map, and looking where the sun was setting I figured out where I was. I should have been on the far side of a section of the forest, but there was no way I could make it through that - the Leylandii or Conifer trees were too close to each other and knitted together so going through them was not an option, no matter how many places I checked. More careful studying of the map and I realised that if I kept going down, close to the forest edge, I'd reach a track and that should take me back on the right route. I found the track and followed it until it came to a farmyard gate! I thought I must be in the wrong place but I asked a man working on his tractor the direction for Belcoo and he directed me through the farmyard and out onto a road. I was in the right place! When I got out on the road, I passed a house with people just getting in to their car. They were looking at me and smiling - almost laughing! As they passed me in their car they stopped and asked if I wanted a lift into Belcoo (about 3km away). I thanked them but declined the kind offer. They were very puzzled and offered again, asking if I was really sure, but I declined again. When they drove off I looked down at myself. My boots were completely covered in mud. My legs were covered in scrapes, bites and splattered with mud. My beige shorts were destroyed with mud, and I suspected my face was just as bad a mess! I must have been really exhausted looking for those kind people to even think about letting me into their car. I'm just sorry I was too tired to explain why I didn't want to take that lift.

With the forest excitement over, and the monotonous walking back, so too was the pain in my feet and legs. I was aware of each and every step. As I entered the town I passed the 60Km speed sign. The distance to the next speed sign - the 50Km, seemed to take forever, such was the effort with each and every step. I had pain in my toes, the ball of my foot, under my heal, across the top of my foot, in my ankles and my calf muscles. But my knees were fine, so I tried to concentrate on them. No use. With every step I felt every pain. Gradually I made it to the centre of the town. There was a pub with accommodation. It was a Monday night so I was confident of getting a bed. When I entered the pub, most heads turned and stared. The barman said "Sorry, all booked out". But there was a B&B back down the town. I struggled to that. "Sorry, full, and no, there's nowhere else in town. Try Blacklion?". The 1Km walk across the river to Blacklion was probably the toughest walk I have ever done. Not only sore and tired but now running out of options. I would pitch my tent on the village green, if they had a village green.

Entering the town I spotted "Accommodation". When the owner answered the door he told me they were full up. And, no, there was nowhere else in town. "Belcoo maybe?". I had it. Enough was enough. I couldn't walk across the street, never mind getting to a village green, not that they had one. I told him I was desperate and asked him if he had a grass surface out his back so I could pitch my tent. I told him I'd have breakfast in the morning and pay him whatever B&B charges he wanted! My desperation must have been obvious as he opened his side door to let me around the back. As I pitched my tent I groaned with the effort of bending my legs. The muscles were being stretched and squeezed. It was now almost dark and I was glad I just about made it in time. My plan was to get the tent up, boots off, sleeping bag out and just collapse into this luxurious palace. As soon as the tent was up and ready, the back door opened and the owner stuck his head out. "Would you take a room? Someone has just rung in and cancelled". I think I had the tent half down as I said "Yes, definitely, sure, thanks!". And as I gathered my stuff and walked towards him I asked "Does it have a bath?". Minutes later, as the hero owner was trying to show me the room I was, as politely as possible, ignoring him while turning bath taps and asking for a bowl of cornflakes and cold milk. I sat in the huge bath with water flowing out the overflow, eating a bowl of cornflakes, and hardly noticed the pain of the hot water on my tender skin. I relished that time in the bath.

When I lay in the bed, I knew I had done far too much that day. 31Km, carrying 30Kg up and down hills. For my colleagues in Sunshine House, you know how we struggle to give a child a jockey back from the beach up to the railway bridge? Well this was the equivalent of taking that child on a jockey back to Dublin! I worried about how my muscles would be in the morning. Would I be physically able to walk?

I expected an amount of endurance on the trip. I knew it would not be easy all the time. In fact I expected it to be difficult a lot of the time. Otherwise it's something that anybody could do and lots of people would do. For me, I wanted a challenge. Something that would be difficult in places. Something that would earn my own right to look back and feel I had achieved lots in overcoming some tough situations. As my weight in the bed pressed down on tender skin where the rucksack had pressed all day, I felt the pain and fell asleep within thirty seconds.