The last two weeks have passed with varying degrees of emotion ranging from joy to dread.
Firstly I'd like to wish our darling fundraising manager, Abigail, the very happiest of Birthday's
I hope it was all she wanted and more, she deserves far more - always.
Rower 1 has been visiting family in Abu Dhabi and has also been working on a new business proposal
for our potential corporate sponsors, taking full advantage of his Father' experience in such matters. I
look forward to reading it and seeing ourselves as a product a new. Safe trip home R2 you have been
missed mainly by me I suspect as Abi has probably enjoyed having me to herself for a while, honestly
though - training feels like empty achievements without you...
This week I have had time to write up our schools program and seek advice on the ways to approach it
with local schools in mind. The idea is that we go in for an afternoon to explain what we're doing, why
and how... engaging children in an educational format with a cross subject emphasis and hoping to
encourage young people with the idea that anything is achievable with hard work and determination.
We are also intending to do a cool bit about ocean preservation and sea life, Education and Fun! most
importantly...
I have also organised a charity car wash day next Friday (25/02/11) at Shire hall Cambridge, there is a
booking system via email or phone, alternatively people can turn up on the day... any volunteers welcome.
Being separated from my shadow (Tom) this week has also given me time to enjoy a little bit of something
I once had a lot of, time alone. I have indulged in various forms of entertainment and some of which I feel
I absolutely must recommend - number the film BRONSON the dramatisation of the Eponymous and notorious
British prisoner, this film is brilliant. Tom Hardy in his first major lead is astoundingly good as the menacing
and brooding time bomb, what a talent - I urge you to see it!...
Number two, something I have been meaning to catch for years and missed it at the arts cinema is a film
called HEIMA from the ethereal icelandic band Sigur Ros. This is beautifully and simply shot in a landscape that
is palpably wonderous, it is easy to see how the music from a great band has been influence by this surrounding
habitat, it is quite literally captivating, please watch it as soon as you can. It's Phenomenal!
Ok so lastly I also want to send out our best wishes to the two guys rowing Papa Delta on the Atlantic at the moment,
they've had a pretty tough few weeks with several capsizings, emergency food drops and a whale following them. If you
haven't seen them in the news this last week you can find them through our face book page, they have been great to
us so far with advice and help on certain aspects of our campaign, we are also hoping to use their boat on their safe
return... Good luck guys, keep up the hard work and we're thinking of you. (Please follow them, find them at Matt&Chris
Cleghorn through our Facebook page).
Ok folks that's it for now, keep following and supporting, we're truly humbled by all your efforts with us so far.
Over & out, R2.
Sunday 20 February 2011
Tuesday 8 February 2011
The Oar Raisers Cambridge to Kent post walk report:
Post Even Report:
The Oar Raiser Cambridge to Kent walk
As you’re all no doubt aware, last weekend saw the Oar Raisers and some dedicated friends went for an 80 mile stroll down to Gillingham Kent. For Tom & I this was both a fundraiser and training exercise, it was intended to test our physical and mental endurance at this stage in our Atlantic campaign.
At 07:00 Friday morning we left Cambridge City centre waved off by the Mayor, ten participant in total. We set off with the route heading to Saffron Walden intending to make this our first big rest stop. This first leg of the journey felt upbeat, exciting and quite swift. It took around six hours even though we stopped a few times to grap supplies and speak to local press. It was really important that we motivated everyone on this leg as it was the first and completing it with ease would make the rest seem much more achievable. Finding a nice Cafe we took just over 30 minutes rest to change our socks, eat and get ready to move out.
Next leg was on to Stanstead Mountfitchet, we were less three people. Our two female companions had only intended to do the first leg as they had prior engagements later that day - nonetheless both Maria and Lisa walked their part with ease and kept following our progress throughout the weekend, well done gals you were great!... James unfortunately damaged his foot and made the decision to stop before exacerbating - I’m certain he could have gone all the way if not for the foot. The problem was it could have been ligament damage and not worth the risk - so well done James for getting as far as our first checkpoint, it was the right decision to stop. Seven lads set out to stop through to checkpoint two.
High spirits helped us really pound the pavement and make really good ground, arriving in Stanstead Mountfitchet early evening we bunked down between the support car and oddly high pavement. Tom & I went in for the tasty HeaterMeals we were using, Lamb Curry and Chunky Chili Chicken, they provided a welcome source of energy and warmth, Tom Amor cooked up some rations in his Hexamine army stove which must have been quite a sight for onlooking high street lingerers. At this point pretty much everyone had to participate in what was soon to become a frequent foot care ritual, airing our feet for a few minutes, talc and zinc tape where necessary, fresh dry socks, boots back on and some light stretching to warm the legs back up. It seemed that as the dark set in so did the cold, sitting still for forty minutes to rest meant our legs were starting to stiffen - this was the first sign of any physical problems but unperturbed by situation we got out the hats and gloves put on Hi-vis tops and pushed on.
Rather than stop at Bishop’s Stortford we decided to push straight through to a Petrol Station near Sawbridgeworth, it had seemed to make sense that we keep making the progress we had been. However by the time we got to the support car waiting at a petrol station just outside a small town full of curry houses we were exhausted and beginning to realise the scale of our challenge.
There’s something quite interesting about sitting in a brightly lit petrol station in the dead of night with six other guys all looking as though we’d just clambered from the grave. Our newly arrived second support car provided tea, coffee and much to my delight Peanut butter cream cakes - Debs, I love you for this...Thank you, you most brilliant woman. Foot ritual, food and this time pain killers, I was on particularly low psychological ground by this point. Ordinarily I am not just a strong motivator for myself but for others around me, I had had a steady decline in my belief that what we were doing was actually worthwhile. Over the last few hours I began to have some really quite depressing thoughts and unusually for me I could find a way of getting myself out of that mindset, I spiraled down further and further until my head hung limp on my shoulders as I dragged my feet. Knowing I had to do something about the situation I rang Abigail for some semblance of familiarity... I was tired, drained physically and mentally, in need of food and desperate not to give up. Abigail assured me that everyone was following our progress on the web tracker we’d set up, she told me how well we were all doing, I found it hard to respond but hearing that comforting voice lifted me just high enough to think about what we were doing. Suddenly I realised that if Tom or I could not complete this walk then we did not deserve the privilege of Rowing across the Atlantic. I guzzled an energy sachet, took two pain killers, ate a banana, rubbed deep heat into my tightening leg muscles, swigged a large swig of whiskey and told myself to move.
Shortly after moving off it became obvious that one of the group (one of my oldest friends) was starting to suffer, his long strong stride had beed reduced to a step and hop then limp and a wince and finally a hobble. I had to call it and tell him enough was enough, there was no shame in stopping - though disappointed I think he knew it was the right thing to do. Some two hours later we’d made little progress but many people in pub windows began to look out at us in disbelief as the 60mph winds battered us along the unlit B roads, head torches were our only source of light. Meeting the support car and a fresh face that intended to finish the walk with us from Harlow, we rested for a few minutes refilling our Camelbaks and snacking on chocolate. A bit of friendly laddish and often rude banter goes a long way at point like this, Our newby was most welcome and my injured friend had taken care of his feet, strapped them up and felt worlds better - he got out of the car and said “I’m finishing this walk”.
The twelve hours of darkness had left us demotivated and fed up, walking was no longer a friendly adventure but a bitterly twisted torture. There was no time to take in the villages and no light for us to see the natural beauty of this landscape, this trip had slowly become bereft of anything that felt even remotely good. We’d Pushed through a ford and chanced a way through instead of going around and taking more time going back on ourselves, the support car behind us crawled along to light the way which was precarious to say the least. Once through like a madman possessed I marched on dangerously without a head torch, hoping to just get to the next checkpoint and not think about what was behind, angry at the road I was pounding, angry at everything I dug deep and sped through the last mile to a point just eighteen miles from Tilbury and the Ferry.
It seemed the end was in sight but we actually fifteen miles to the ferry and then twelve from there to the pub in Gillingham. We were all suffering to varying degrees, Blisters, strains and lack of sleep were all taking their toll. As the dawn broke and we began walking into daylight our task appeared to reveal itself in easier sections, roads were better, there were footpaths and long stretches of straight asphalt - making small goals easy to achieve. Our speed in the night had dropped dramatically to a mere one mile an hour, now we were gaining momentum again and kicking out three, four and sometimes more as if quite metaphorically the sun reinvigorated us. Then before we had time to think about it Tilbury was in sight and we were on course to meet the time frame we’d previously estimated.
Saturday midday all aboard and Kent bound, the water was choppy and the winds were still gale force all down the line. The whole unit was happy and relieved to have got this far and in the time we had especially when everything had looked so bleak only six hours before. As we crossed the river and the Gravesend dock came into sight we saw and heard the cheers of about thirty people in Oar Raisers T-shirts and Parkinson’s charity boxes. This was a moving and incredibly welcome moment as we had arrived at our final furlong, stepping off the boat and into the crowd it was hard to reciprocate the joy and emotion that everyone was demonstrating. I hope These kind and wonderful people appreciate just how much that meant to us all even if we had no energy to show them.
The final twelve came in long and lasting inclines, each step shot a pain through your legs like you were walking on crucifixion nails, I’m not exaggerating here - this was the hardest and most challenging end to an intensely difficult journey. After a while the sign came “Welcome to Medway” I knew the first pint and end point was in sight, everything felt achievable now and we really dug in, finding energy reserves depleted but still pushing and pushing only four miles to go. ROchester fell beneath our feet with ease and Tom and I decided to take some pressure off our feet by jogging half a mile or so through Chatham. These old familiar towns held memories for me but I’d never felt like this coming home before. Gillingham and ten minutes from the pub, everything fell quiet as the blue light of early night crept over us. We’d lost three walkers, been through four county’s, spent twelve hours in isolated dark, nursed each others blistered feet, walked for thirty five hours without sleep, crossed the estuary on ferry and arrived at our final destination. The Frog & Toad Pub held throngs of supporters clapping and cheering directing us to cross a ribboned line. The smell of hot food and the sight of freshly poured Guinness twinkled in all our eyes, every small detail was lapped up by the senses as we rolled in and found ourselves elated. We had completed the eighty mile Oar Raisers Cambridge to Kent walk and now we had to party...
The Oar Raiser Cambridge to Kent walk
As you’re all no doubt aware, last weekend saw the Oar Raisers and some dedicated friends went for an 80 mile stroll down to Gillingham Kent. For Tom & I this was both a fundraiser and training exercise, it was intended to test our physical and mental endurance at this stage in our Atlantic campaign.
At 07:00 Friday morning we left Cambridge City centre waved off by the Mayor, ten participant in total. We set off with the route heading to Saffron Walden intending to make this our first big rest stop. This first leg of the journey felt upbeat, exciting and quite swift. It took around six hours even though we stopped a few times to grap supplies and speak to local press. It was really important that we motivated everyone on this leg as it was the first and completing it with ease would make the rest seem much more achievable. Finding a nice Cafe we took just over 30 minutes rest to change our socks, eat and get ready to move out.
Next leg was on to Stanstead Mountfitchet, we were less three people. Our two female companions had only intended to do the first leg as they had prior engagements later that day - nonetheless both Maria and Lisa walked their part with ease and kept following our progress throughout the weekend, well done gals you were great!... James unfortunately damaged his foot and made the decision to stop before exacerbating - I’m certain he could have gone all the way if not for the foot. The problem was it could have been ligament damage and not worth the risk - so well done James for getting as far as our first checkpoint, it was the right decision to stop. Seven lads set out to stop through to checkpoint two.
High spirits helped us really pound the pavement and make really good ground, arriving in Stanstead Mountfitchet early evening we bunked down between the support car and oddly high pavement. Tom & I went in for the tasty HeaterMeals we were using, Lamb Curry and Chunky Chili Chicken, they provided a welcome source of energy and warmth, Tom Amor cooked up some rations in his Hexamine army stove which must have been quite a sight for onlooking high street lingerers. At this point pretty much everyone had to participate in what was soon to become a frequent foot care ritual, airing our feet for a few minutes, talc and zinc tape where necessary, fresh dry socks, boots back on and some light stretching to warm the legs back up. It seemed that as the dark set in so did the cold, sitting still for forty minutes to rest meant our legs were starting to stiffen - this was the first sign of any physical problems but unperturbed by situation we got out the hats and gloves put on Hi-vis tops and pushed on.
Rather than stop at Bishop’s Stortford we decided to push straight through to a Petrol Station near Sawbridgeworth, it had seemed to make sense that we keep making the progress we had been. However by the time we got to the support car waiting at a petrol station just outside a small town full of curry houses we were exhausted and beginning to realise the scale of our challenge.
There’s something quite interesting about sitting in a brightly lit petrol station in the dead of night with six other guys all looking as though we’d just clambered from the grave. Our newly arrived second support car provided tea, coffee and much to my delight Peanut butter cream cakes - Debs, I love you for this...Thank you, you most brilliant woman. Foot ritual, food and this time pain killers, I was on particularly low psychological ground by this point. Ordinarily I am not just a strong motivator for myself but for others around me, I had had a steady decline in my belief that what we were doing was actually worthwhile. Over the last few hours I began to have some really quite depressing thoughts and unusually for me I could find a way of getting myself out of that mindset, I spiraled down further and further until my head hung limp on my shoulders as I dragged my feet. Knowing I had to do something about the situation I rang Abigail for some semblance of familiarity... I was tired, drained physically and mentally, in need of food and desperate not to give up. Abigail assured me that everyone was following our progress on the web tracker we’d set up, she told me how well we were all doing, I found it hard to respond but hearing that comforting voice lifted me just high enough to think about what we were doing. Suddenly I realised that if Tom or I could not complete this walk then we did not deserve the privilege of Rowing across the Atlantic. I guzzled an energy sachet, took two pain killers, ate a banana, rubbed deep heat into my tightening leg muscles, swigged a large swig of whiskey and told myself to move.
Shortly after moving off it became obvious that one of the group (one of my oldest friends) was starting to suffer, his long strong stride had beed reduced to a step and hop then limp and a wince and finally a hobble. I had to call it and tell him enough was enough, there was no shame in stopping - though disappointed I think he knew it was the right thing to do. Some two hours later we’d made little progress but many people in pub windows began to look out at us in disbelief as the 60mph winds battered us along the unlit B roads, head torches were our only source of light. Meeting the support car and a fresh face that intended to finish the walk with us from Harlow, we rested for a few minutes refilling our Camelbaks and snacking on chocolate. A bit of friendly laddish and often rude banter goes a long way at point like this, Our newby was most welcome and my injured friend had taken care of his feet, strapped them up and felt worlds better - he got out of the car and said “I’m finishing this walk”.
The twelve hours of darkness had left us demotivated and fed up, walking was no longer a friendly adventure but a bitterly twisted torture. There was no time to take in the villages and no light for us to see the natural beauty of this landscape, this trip had slowly become bereft of anything that felt even remotely good. We’d Pushed through a ford and chanced a way through instead of going around and taking more time going back on ourselves, the support car behind us crawled along to light the way which was precarious to say the least. Once through like a madman possessed I marched on dangerously without a head torch, hoping to just get to the next checkpoint and not think about what was behind, angry at the road I was pounding, angry at everything I dug deep and sped through the last mile to a point just eighteen miles from Tilbury and the Ferry.
It seemed the end was in sight but we actually fifteen miles to the ferry and then twelve from there to the pub in Gillingham. We were all suffering to varying degrees, Blisters, strains and lack of sleep were all taking their toll. As the dawn broke and we began walking into daylight our task appeared to reveal itself in easier sections, roads were better, there were footpaths and long stretches of straight asphalt - making small goals easy to achieve. Our speed in the night had dropped dramatically to a mere one mile an hour, now we were gaining momentum again and kicking out three, four and sometimes more as if quite metaphorically the sun reinvigorated us. Then before we had time to think about it Tilbury was in sight and we were on course to meet the time frame we’d previously estimated.
Saturday midday all aboard and Kent bound, the water was choppy and the winds were still gale force all down the line. The whole unit was happy and relieved to have got this far and in the time we had especially when everything had looked so bleak only six hours before. As we crossed the river and the Gravesend dock came into sight we saw and heard the cheers of about thirty people in Oar Raisers T-shirts and Parkinson’s charity boxes. This was a moving and incredibly welcome moment as we had arrived at our final furlong, stepping off the boat and into the crowd it was hard to reciprocate the joy and emotion that everyone was demonstrating. I hope These kind and wonderful people appreciate just how much that meant to us all even if we had no energy to show them.
The final twelve came in long and lasting inclines, each step shot a pain through your legs like you were walking on crucifixion nails, I’m not exaggerating here - this was the hardest and most challenging end to an intensely difficult journey. After a while the sign came “Welcome to Medway” I knew the first pint and end point was in sight, everything felt achievable now and we really dug in, finding energy reserves depleted but still pushing and pushing only four miles to go. ROchester fell beneath our feet with ease and Tom and I decided to take some pressure off our feet by jogging half a mile or so through Chatham. These old familiar towns held memories for me but I’d never felt like this coming home before. Gillingham and ten minutes from the pub, everything fell quiet as the blue light of early night crept over us. We’d lost three walkers, been through four county’s, spent twelve hours in isolated dark, nursed each others blistered feet, walked for thirty five hours without sleep, crossed the estuary on ferry and arrived at our final destination. The Frog & Toad Pub held throngs of supporters clapping and cheering directing us to cross a ribboned line. The smell of hot food and the sight of freshly poured Guinness twinkled in all our eyes, every small detail was lapped up by the senses as we rolled in and found ourselves elated. We had completed the eighty mile Oar Raisers Cambridge to Kent walk and now we had to party...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)