31st July 2007. Day four.

I awoke in the morning and on realising where I was, quickly thought about my muscles. Nothing sore yet. I moved in the bed. Nothing sore. I rolled my foot around, checking my ankles. All fine - no pain. I sat up slowly and moved a few more joints around my body. Nothing sore. This was great! I felt fine. I stood up and walked a little. I felt a bit stiff but nowhere near as bad as I thought I'd be. I was delighted! The previous evening I thought that this might even be the end of my journey, but feeling the way I did that morning I knew I was well able for another day's walking. I also knew I couldn't do as much as the previous day - that was ridiculous, but I'd be able for half the Cavan Walk. The full walk is advertised as 25km (16 miles), so even being a little stiff, 13km would be manageable. I was in great form and headed down for breakfast.

I was in no hurry so I had a slow and large breakfast. Then I went off to the local tourist office for postcards, and arranged with them to leave my rucksack there for a short time while I went around the small town. I went to a local Service Station with a coffee shop and took my time writing postcards, eating a bun and reading the paper. There was no point in heading off too early, as my plan was to stop after 13km and camp out. That could be in the middle of nowhere so no point being there too early.

I think it was about noon or 1pm when I picked up my rucksack and headed off. It was sore on the base of my back where the rucksack sits but other than that I was remarkably healthy considering the torment my body went through the previous day. I know I was very fit by the time I started this trip, so all that helps for a quick recovery. I left Blacklion and walked up the small road out of town into the hills. A small tarmac road brought me into a farmyard, with the standard barking dog, and then through grazing fields up to wonderful views from Giants Leap.



The view here ranges, not only over Upper and Lower Lough MacNean and Fermanagh, but also west to the Sligo and North-Leitrim Mountains, while to the north-west in clear weather the summits of South Donegal can be seen.



The walk, which was interesting, brought me through different types of ground - up and down hills, through forests, across fields, and was well marked along all sections. This was a vast improvement on the Northern Ireland Ulster Way.
This Cavan Way had big clear posts at all turns and any sections that might be a bit vague.
There is an interesting passage grave up a hill in the middle of a forest. Apparently it's the burial place of a giant who collapsed and died after attempting a second jump across the nearby "Giant's Leap". I salute his courage in undertaking that challenge. One successful jump is never enough. Go giant.

I stopped in a field with a nice view of the mountains and had lunch. I used my camping equipment for the first time and had a fine cup of tea, ham sandwiches and sardines. As much as I would have liked to stay there for a long time, I had to get back walking. And now the pain started returning. Not sudden, not extreme, but building and persistent. The walk took me down out of the hills and out onto a country road. Off-road keeps you distracted from a lot of pain. Watching your footing and concentrating on where you need to place your feet keeps the mind relatively busy. But back on tarmac is just walking and gives you too much time to think about your ailments. The road seemed to go on and on. I expected this, so I'll not complain …….. yet. At some stage however, the drudgery was broken by a cow and calf out on the road.



They were eating peacefully when I came along, but then they ran down the road in front of me. They would stop every couple of minutes to eat more and then take off again when I got close. I went past a house where a man was cleaning windows. He gave me a friendly wave, probably wondering why I was taking a cow and calf for a walk. The three of us kept walking. The window-cleaner, obviously finished one house went on to the next and was up his ladder when I, and my cow-and-calf, went past him again. We waved with a big smile this time. The animal walk went on for about two kilometres. I made all sort of attempts to get past them to shoo them back to where they'd been but they were having none of it. Eventually the Cavan Way took me off the road and the somewhat relieved cow and calf stopped and ate grass. All good country fun.

My next stop was the source of the Shannon River - the Shannon Pot (Lug-na-Sionna). The river was to be such a big part of this expedition that I was very keen to see the feature. It is a still pond about 15m diameter, and I found it and the surroundings incredibly tranquil. There was nobody around, and no roads nearby so it was fabulously peaceful.
Not normally one for being too philosophical, however I think I became one with the water. As it was about to make a fascinating journey down most of the country so too was I on a similar journey. OK, I was tired. But it was really nice there. I'd like to have camped there but my GPS read 10km and I wanted to do 13km to avoid a longer journey the next day. I affectionately and symbolically spat into the Pot and carried on.

Very quickly I was back on a tarmac road and not enjoying a boring walk for a few kilometres. My dictaphone recording says:

"Day 4 - first day of the Cavan Walk and I'm trudging along the road and it really is just trudging along. There's a long section of road here and it's just boring. This is shear endurance. Nothing interesting about it, just shear endurance. I feel tired, my legs are sore - particularly me feet, my feet are sore all the time. Not the soles of them, just the whole feet ……. all around them. Anyway I'm trying not to concentrate on that. Other than that I don't feel too bad. But carrying this bag on my back is such a drudgery. Three stone or whatever it is ……… I'm just suffering it. It is now six minutes to four. I told myself I'll stop at four o'clock. Roll on these six minutes."


I couldn't wait for the 13km point on the GPS. My plan was to camp anytime after that. I reached the 13km stage and rested for quite a long time, eating peanuts and raisins. On walking again, at about 5pm, I kept an eye out for a place to camp. There was nowhere suitable. Every field was either overgrown with hedge growth or else had cattle in it and I didn't fancy being trampled on by some inquisitive cow or bullock. Some empty fields with short grass had obviously held cattle recently as they were all holed and dug up by cattle hooves on the boggy wet ground. I walked another few kilometres getting more and more disconsolate with every sore step. I had imagined that one could just throw your tent down almost anywhere, without a care in the world and the wind in your hair, but the reality was disappointingly different.
I eventually realised that I was near a point where I had driven to maybe a year before. I knew of a field on the route where I had walked into when planning this trip. I knew that field was suitable for a tent so I pressed on, hoping there wouldn't be cattle in it now.

I was now down walking along the Shannon River, and the marked trail had deteriorated considerably. Hedge growth and brambles had encroached onto the trail making progress difficult in places. This was more like the Ulster Way had been. In some areas where the trail led through a gap in the hedge, the soft wet ground was all potted from cattle hooves, or else had turned to soft muck, and I had to walk quickly through it to avoid sinking. I was wearing good quality walking so thankfully they kept my feet dry as I was only sinking to near the top of the boot.

I followed the trail as best I could, and it brought me to higher, and drier ground, away from the river. I could see from my GPS I was only about half a kilometre from the field I intended camping in. After a few minutes walking I couldn't see the next Cavan Way trail post. I assumed the walk would be straight and walked across a couple of fields until I came to hedges that I could not pass. Going uphill didn't seem the right direction so I decided I'd have to make my way back towards the river. The field I wanted to get to was beside the river. I knew the river would bring me to where I wanted to be. Getting back to the river was extremely difficult.

When I got near it, even though I was still a few hundred yards from it, the ground was completely water laden and very boggy. I ended up jumping from one clump of grass to the next. Then one foot went down into soft ground and I was up to my knee in muddy water! The boots couldn't help me here. I felt the water pour into the boot, soaking my sock. I was raging, but didn't know exactly who or what I should be raging with. For the second day in a row, at a vital stage when I was tired and near exhausted, I had lost my way, and here I was battling again to get back on track. I blamed the poor marking on the trail, and I also blamed myself for not concentrating sufficiently when I really needed to concentrate. I battled on, slowing calming down, reminding myself that this was all part of a good expedition. Challenging times. But, I asked myself, why do that have to come so late in the day when I'm utterly drained and hungry? Sitting comfortably at my computer here now it's quite clear why the biggest challenges come at those times - they are of my own making. Even at the time, at the back of my mind, I knew that's why I was in trouble at these times, and that was something that I learned to address during the trip. When you're tired, exhausted, thirsty and hungry, they are the times you particularly need to slow down and force yourself to make good decisions. Otherwise the difficulties just build on each other.

I battled through the boggy field, and then thick overgrowth, and got myself back to the track along the river. This wasn't a clear, easy walking track though. At times, with so much overgrowth encroaching, it was barely discernable as a track at all! And then reassuringly, every so often, I would come across one of the posts that marked it as the Cavan Way. It was quite a big change from the clear, well-marked trail of earlier that day. Suddenly I reached the field, and the road beside it, where I had been about a year before. But things had changed considerably. The field had been cleared of hedges and trees and was now prepared for something else. The work had only recently been carried out so most of the field didn't even have grass on it but open soil! I checked for a suitable surface to pitch my tent but it simply wasn't suitable at all. I couldn't believe it. Everything seemed to be contriving against me. I was getting fed up of challenges. I went out on the road and started walking, getting very tempted to ring a taxi and bring me to the local town! But within minutes I spotted a field of freshly cut grass for hay-making. I made my way to the entrance gate and saw a house across the road. I contemplated sneaking into the field, just in case I was refused permission, but I felt I should really ask to pitch my tent. I knocked on the door and heard an old lady's voice telling me to hold on. Knowing how my own elderly mother takes time to reach her door with her walking aid, I waited patiently. The door opened and a woman, the image of my mother, answered, holding tightly onto her walking aid. I explained my predicament and assured her that her field would be alright. I was delighted when she told me to go ahead. I am extremely grateful for her kindness.

I found a suitable place in the field - level and somewhat sheltered by hedges, and pitched my tent. When I climbed in I realised how stiff and sore I was. Already my muscles were beginning to seize up. I had intended to walk 13km that day but I had walked an additional 4km looking for a place to pitch my tent. I found it incredible that I needed to go that distance looking for a tiny patch of flat grassed surface. All the fields I encountered were either overgrown with hedge growth, brambles and rushes, or had cattle in them, or had recently held cattle and the ground being so wet from the Summer's rain was rutted, and holed from the cattle hooves. If the fields had held sheep the ground would not have been bad, but it appears sheep are not farmed in that part of the country.

Sitting in my tent, having peeled some wet muddy socks off, I was happy that the worst of the walking was over. From here to Dowra was on small country roads, but not through boggy fields! Having done lots of mountain walking before this trip, I had expected to enjoy the walking section much more, but with carrying my heavy pack it had become a difficult drudgery. I noted in my dictaphone that if I was to ever attempt a trip like this again I would have my equipment delivered to suitable locations. Carrying it is an accomplishment, but not enjoyable. Lesson learned. After 17km walking through some rough terrain, it wasn't long before dusk, and I think I was asleep in my tent by 10pm.