Hiking up Ben Nevis? So yesterday. Twenty four hours after Andrew, Clive and I completed our mountain escapade in the Highlands, the clock was already beginning to tick towards a second key event in my diary, the Thames Bridges Trek.
In a previous blog I explained how it was that I came to sign up for this special fund-raising day, but perhaps it would be helpful to set the context again in this post? A few months ago my lovely friend Paulette asked whether I'd consider accompanying her on the Thames Trek, a 25km zig-zaggy walk across 16 bridges, to raise money for St Wilfrid's Hospice in Eastbourne. The hospice has provided outstanding palliative care to Paulette's husband Jeremy, who has been living with progessive prostate cancer. It was such a good cause, and I agreed in an instant. Very sadly, Jeremy died two months ago - but Paulette decided that she'd like to continue with our trek challenge in Jeremy's memory.
So it was time to pack my bags, bid a fond farewell to Fort William and leg it home to East Sussex. I say 'leg it', but at that stage my quadriceps and calf muscles were begging for mercy every time I moved my legs in an upward or downward direction. And in truth, I was beginning to panic a little. How on earth was I going to cope with extended pavement pounding and multiple bridges in just two days' time?
I remembered what I'd said to Paulette a few weeks back. 'Come what may, I'll be on that start line with you' I'd told her. So I put my problem-solving hat on. For the next 36 hours, I nursed my legs through an intense programme of hot water bottles, bags of frozen peas and Radox baths, with the occasional gentle dog walk thrown in. And I studied the Trek route to prepare myself a little. Although I'm not sure that was a wise idea. Oh my goodness, that red line looked so long....
Our Thames Bridges Trek day dawned. Paulette awoke to the ping of a good luck text from son Luke in Cape Town. I awoke to the realisation that my legs felt more, well, human. And after two days of wall to wall rain, the sun awoke to find itself uncluttered by clouds. Paulette and I squeezed into my battered old car, with chauffeur Andrew at the wheel. Butterflies were going absolutely bonkers in my stomach. Would we be able to find our way to the start of the event? Were our bodies capable of walking 25km within 7 hours? Would Paulette's daughter Antoinette and family be able to track us down en route? And was I too old to be wearing lycra?
First stop, Lucy's house in Wimbledon. Lucy and Andrew wished us good luck and made a beeline for The Ivy Cafe to enjoy a slap-up breakfast (on Dad of course), whilst Paulette and I headed empty-stomached to the tube station. An hour later, the two of us were primed and ready for action in Bishops Park, near Putney Bridge. We had 'It Takes Two' bibs pinned to our backpacks, St Wilfrid's Hospice logos emblazoned across our chests, and event passes draped round our necks. The butterflies had settled down and we were beginning to feel quite excited. Mixed in with the excitement was a wave of intense sadness at the thought that Paulette wouldn't be able to share this special experience with Jeremy, as she had originally imagined she would be doing - but every single step of the route would be taken with Jeremy in our hearts and minds.
The 9.30am start slot was announced and Paulette and I took our places with 298 fellow walkers. We were all given blue trilbies to pop on our heads. We warmed up with a lively zumba routine, which instantly exposed my lack of coordination. And then we were off! We pootled over Putney Bridge, shimmeyed by shops, moseyed alongside a market and promenaded past a park. Some keen and swift folk from later time slots began to overtake us. 'Just let them go' Paulette said 'We'll get there in our own time'. Wise words indeed. We fell quite naturally into a comfortable rhythm and pace, and our lungs weren't so hard pressed that we couldn't talk nineteen to the dozen. Every so often we felt compelled to stop in our tracks and take photos of iconic landmarks.
After two and a half hours of walking, Paulette and I reviewed our physiological status. Feet? Check. Legs? Check. Backs? Check. Hips? Che.......oh dammit, time to 'fess up, I was beginning to notice a nasty niggling soreness in my right hip, a part of my body that's known to throw the occasional wobbly under provocation. It had behaved itself immaculately all the way and down The Ben. Would this trek prove to be, er, 16 bridges too far?
As luck would have it, we had a scheduled halfway break coming up. So we slowed down our speed, crossed Vauxhall Bridge (Bridge 7) and made our way to the nearby Pleasure Gardens where we were ushered into a big marquee. In front of us were long tables groaning under the weight of croissants, Danish pastries, cakes, cookies, crisps, sweets and chocolates, and a smorgesbord of fruit for the virtuous. Pleasure Gardens indeed!! I knocked back a couple of anti-inflammatories and then gorged myself on a shed-load of starchy grub. Meanwhile Paulette deftly juggled a croissant, chocolate brownie, orange slice and her mobile as she attempted to track down Antoinette and family's current location.
Back on the road, and to my immense relief my hip was firing on all cylinders again. Paulette's phone rang. Breaking news....Antoinette, husband Steve and their two daughters Zoe (13) and Mia (11) were on the train heading towards London Bridge and were planning to meet us towards Southwark. 'How are they going to find us?' pondered Paulette. 'Smart phones and apps Paulette, you'll see' I replied with more conviction than I felt.
We strode towards Westminster Bridge (Bridge 9), where we encountered a plethora of famous buildings, a Lib Dem March for Europe, and hoards of tourists, many of whom gave our trilbies and bibs a long hard stare.
We crossed the Golden Jubilee, Waterloo, Blackfriars and wobbly Millennium Bridges (Bridges 10 to 13) in quick succession. More iconic structures and swarms of overseas visitors.
Paulette's mobile rang again. It was Steve, inquiring as to our whereabouts. 'We're coming up to a bridge' she replied helpfully. Hmm....but which one? It turned out to be Southwark. 'Are you north or south?' asked Steve. Paulette and I looked at one another blankly. But guess what, just two minutes later, there were Antoinette, Steve, Zoe and Mia standing in front of us - an absolute stand-out moment of our day and a very emotional one.
Back to the job in hand, now accompanied by the fabulous Dale Henderson support team. After a minor unplanned detour at the Tower of London when the route arrows seemed to disappear (or was it that we were just chatting too much to spot them.....?), Tower Bridge (Bridge 16 - hurrah!) loomed before us.
Once on Tower Bridge it was my turn to coordinate a family rendezvous. Texts flew back and forth. I learnt that Andrew and Lucy had moved on from the Ivy Cafe in Wimbledon and were now hanging out in the Southwark area. 'We're on Tooley St on your route - outside keeping a look out' texted Andrew. Outside what Andrew? Oh of course, a pub! Ten minutes later Paulette and I duly arrived at The Shipwrights Arms and our support team gained two additional tiptop members.
One. More. Kilometre. To. Go. Our legs ached, our feet felt sore and my hip was throwing a minor hissy-fit. By now the route had taken us away from the majestic Thames and we were slogging it along unforgiving pavements and soulless streets. We yearned for Southwark Park, our ultimate destination. Another road. Another corner. And then finally the end was in sight - banners flapping in the freeze, people cheering, inspirational music blaring.....yes, It Takes Two had made it!
Paulette and I crossed the finish line together, big smiles on faces, aches and pains forgotten. We were awarded with medals, tee-shirts and a glass of fizz by cheery event staff. And we wrapped up the formalities by having our finishers' photo taken.
Paulette and I gave one another a big celebratory hug and then raised our glasses very high to Jeremy. He would be so proud of Paulette's achievement. I'm very proud of her too. I think her decision to register for the Trek and to persist with her plans following Jeremy's death is testament to her strength, courage, resilience, warm-heartedness and zest for life and is also testament to Jeremy and Paulette's devoted relationship, spanning more than 50 years.
To date, our 'It Takes Two' webpage has received £1851 in donations, an amazingly fantastic total that will be hugely appreciated by St Wilfrid's Hospice in Eastbourne. Paulette and I are truly grateful to everyone for their generosity and for all the support and encouragement we've received.
This blog has been written in loving and fondest memory of Jeremy Dale Roberts.
If you would like further information about St Wilfrid's Hospice, do please visit our JustGiving page https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/paulettedaleroberts
In a previous blog I explained how it was that I came to sign up for this special fund-raising day, but perhaps it would be helpful to set the context again in this post? A few months ago my lovely friend Paulette asked whether I'd consider accompanying her on the Thames Trek, a 25km zig-zaggy walk across 16 bridges, to raise money for St Wilfrid's Hospice in Eastbourne. The hospice has provided outstanding palliative care to Paulette's husband Jeremy, who has been living with progessive prostate cancer. It was such a good cause, and I agreed in an instant. Very sadly, Jeremy died two months ago - but Paulette decided that she'd like to continue with our trek challenge in Jeremy's memory.
So it was time to pack my bags, bid a fond farewell to Fort William and leg it home to East Sussex. I say 'leg it', but at that stage my quadriceps and calf muscles were begging for mercy every time I moved my legs in an upward or downward direction. And in truth, I was beginning to panic a little. How on earth was I going to cope with extended pavement pounding and multiple bridges in just two days' time?
I remembered what I'd said to Paulette a few weeks back. 'Come what may, I'll be on that start line with you' I'd told her. So I put my problem-solving hat on. For the next 36 hours, I nursed my legs through an intense programme of hot water bottles, bags of frozen peas and Radox baths, with the occasional gentle dog walk thrown in. And I studied the Trek route to prepare myself a little. Although I'm not sure that was a wise idea. Oh my goodness, that red line looked so long....
Our Thames Bridges Trek day dawned. Paulette awoke to the ping of a good luck text from son Luke in Cape Town. I awoke to the realisation that my legs felt more, well, human. And after two days of wall to wall rain, the sun awoke to find itself uncluttered by clouds. Paulette and I squeezed into my battered old car, with chauffeur Andrew at the wheel. Butterflies were going absolutely bonkers in my stomach. Would we be able to find our way to the start of the event? Were our bodies capable of walking 25km within 7 hours? Would Paulette's daughter Antoinette and family be able to track us down en route? And was I too old to be wearing lycra?
First stop, Lucy's house in Wimbledon. Lucy and Andrew wished us good luck and made a beeline for The Ivy Cafe to enjoy a slap-up breakfast (on Dad of course), whilst Paulette and I headed empty-stomached to the tube station. An hour later, the two of us were primed and ready for action in Bishops Park, near Putney Bridge. We had 'It Takes Two' bibs pinned to our backpacks, St Wilfrid's Hospice logos emblazoned across our chests, and event passes draped round our necks. The butterflies had settled down and we were beginning to feel quite excited. Mixed in with the excitement was a wave of intense sadness at the thought that Paulette wouldn't be able to share this special experience with Jeremy, as she had originally imagined she would be doing - but every single step of the route would be taken with Jeremy in our hearts and minds.
The 9.30am start slot was announced and Paulette and I took our places with 298 fellow walkers. We were all given blue trilbies to pop on our heads. We warmed up with a lively zumba routine, which instantly exposed my lack of coordination. And then we were off! We pootled over Putney Bridge, shimmeyed by shops, moseyed alongside a market and promenaded past a park. Some keen and swift folk from later time slots began to overtake us. 'Just let them go' Paulette said 'We'll get there in our own time'. Wise words indeed. We fell quite naturally into a comfortable rhythm and pace, and our lungs weren't so hard pressed that we couldn't talk nineteen to the dozen. Every so often we felt compelled to stop in our tracks and take photos of iconic landmarks.
After two and a half hours of walking, Paulette and I reviewed our physiological status. Feet? Check. Legs? Check. Backs? Check. Hips? Che.......oh dammit, time to 'fess up, I was beginning to notice a nasty niggling soreness in my right hip, a part of my body that's known to throw the occasional wobbly under provocation. It had behaved itself immaculately all the way and down The Ben. Would this trek prove to be, er, 16 bridges too far?
As luck would have it, we had a scheduled halfway break coming up. So we slowed down our speed, crossed Vauxhall Bridge (Bridge 7) and made our way to the nearby Pleasure Gardens where we were ushered into a big marquee. In front of us were long tables groaning under the weight of croissants, Danish pastries, cakes, cookies, crisps, sweets and chocolates, and a smorgesbord of fruit for the virtuous. Pleasure Gardens indeed!! I knocked back a couple of anti-inflammatories and then gorged myself on a shed-load of starchy grub. Meanwhile Paulette deftly juggled a croissant, chocolate brownie, orange slice and her mobile as she attempted to track down Antoinette and family's current location.
Back on the road, and to my immense relief my hip was firing on all cylinders again. Paulette's phone rang. Breaking news....Antoinette, husband Steve and their two daughters Zoe (13) and Mia (11) were on the train heading towards London Bridge and were planning to meet us towards Southwark. 'How are they going to find us?' pondered Paulette. 'Smart phones and apps Paulette, you'll see' I replied with more conviction than I felt.
We strode towards Westminster Bridge (Bridge 9), where we encountered a plethora of famous buildings, a Lib Dem March for Europe, and hoards of tourists, many of whom gave our trilbies and bibs a long hard stare.
We crossed the Golden Jubilee, Waterloo, Blackfriars and wobbly Millennium Bridges (Bridges 10 to 13) in quick succession. More iconic structures and swarms of overseas visitors.
Paulette's mobile rang again. It was Steve, inquiring as to our whereabouts. 'We're coming up to a bridge' she replied helpfully. Hmm....but which one? It turned out to be Southwark. 'Are you north or south?' asked Steve. Paulette and I looked at one another blankly. But guess what, just two minutes later, there were Antoinette, Steve, Zoe and Mia standing in front of us - an absolute stand-out moment of our day and a very emotional one.
Back to the job in hand, now accompanied by the fabulous Dale Henderson support team. After a minor unplanned detour at the Tower of London when the route arrows seemed to disappear (or was it that we were just chatting too much to spot them.....?), Tower Bridge (Bridge 16 - hurrah!) loomed before us.
Once on Tower Bridge it was my turn to coordinate a family rendezvous. Texts flew back and forth. I learnt that Andrew and Lucy had moved on from the Ivy Cafe in Wimbledon and were now hanging out in the Southwark area. 'We're on Tooley St on your route - outside keeping a look out' texted Andrew. Outside what Andrew? Oh of course, a pub! Ten minutes later Paulette and I duly arrived at The Shipwrights Arms and our support team gained two additional tiptop members.
One. More. Kilometre. To. Go. Our legs ached, our feet felt sore and my hip was throwing a minor hissy-fit. By now the route had taken us away from the majestic Thames and we were slogging it along unforgiving pavements and soulless streets. We yearned for Southwark Park, our ultimate destination. Another road. Another corner. And then finally the end was in sight - banners flapping in the freeze, people cheering, inspirational music blaring.....yes, It Takes Two had made it!
To date, our 'It Takes Two' webpage has received £1851 in donations, an amazingly fantastic total that will be hugely appreciated by St Wilfrid's Hospice in Eastbourne. Paulette and I are truly grateful to everyone for their generosity and for all the support and encouragement we've received.
This blog has been written in loving and fondest memory of Jeremy Dale Roberts.
If you would like further information about St Wilfrid's Hospice, do please visit our JustGiving page https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/paulettedaleroberts
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