Trails and trials of the writer who walks
That would be the new title of my last blog. Once the tent and sleeping bag(s) were in the rucksack, along with a couple of extra base layers for night-time warmth, there was nowhere for the food to go, so I dangled my flasks and instant grub collection from the back of the pack. BAD IDEA (bad as in bad, not bad as in good). Someone with an A level in physics should have known better. Although none of the items were very heavy, they set up a counter-swing which, combined with the overambitious (for an oldie with short legs) weight of the pack, had me feeling at the end of day two that I would not be walking another step. I ditched half the food, secured the dangly bits, had a good night’s sleep at Alston Youth Hostel an retrieved the trip but was already hopelessly behind schedule.