Well today I learned the true meaning of the Agony and the Ecstasy. I slept deeply in the most comfortable bed (Ecstasy) and then sat Compeed-ing my blistered feet for about half an hour (Agony).
I knew as soon as I started that the Agony was not really going to be manageable, but I pushed on through it, and found Ecstasy at the outrageously beautiful Hamstead Quay. Still creek waters, narrow boardwalks pushing out into the reeds, boats silent, waiting for their owners.
I loved the network of boardwalks allowing walkers to traverse the creeks and inlets in this area. A definite must-return for me.
After yesterday, with its many detours and inland routes to avoid the coastal erosion at Gurnard, it was so pleasant to have a day of proper coastal walking. As I made my way through the forested area around Bouldnor I finally met some walkers doing the coastal path in the opposite direction to me. They were two guys, my age, and one of them was suffering from a blister under his heel. At last I could pass on my Compeed knowledge. They hadn’t heard of it.
I had a great meal at Salty’s in Yarmouth – famed for its seafood, but I chose a burger and chips, knowing I needed my strength for the next leg of the journey. I could quite happily have stopped at that point and I very nearly did. But I pushed my way through the Fort Victoria woodland way and wondered how long it would take me to get to The Needles.
Reader, I caught a bus. I caught a bus at Totland that saved me a couple of miles. I like to read signs into things and a few locals had suggested it along the way. Why not just get the bus to The Needles? As it was I caught one to Alum Bay which seemed like some sort of amusement park that I was happy to walk on from. As it was, I added on a decent amount of mileage at The Needles viewpoint which isn’t counted in the coastal path mileage so I was happy with the trade-off.
At this point I still had at least another hour and a half to walk and literally hobbled along, taking over two hours. The blisters I’d started the day with had doubled in size under the Compeed plasters so I just put my head down and hobbled towards the Tennyson Monument and my accommodation at Freshwater Bay.
And then my Guardian Angels appeared, as they always do in these situations. Firstly, the aptly named John White. A veteran of Isle of Wight Walking Festival and only too happy to tell me I’d ‘done really well’ walking from Shalfleet. I think he meant to say that I was mad.
Then there was Christophe (sp?) – a German guy who was running up to the monument and back from Freshwater Bay and decided to walk with me on the way down and keep me chatting. He could see I was in trouble. Bless you, Christophe.
And now I’m staying in the wonderful Pen-y-Bryn B&B and rethinking the whole thing. I need a rebrand. My feet need a re-heel. I have decided to mooch around Freshwater Bay tomorrow, looking in at the Dimbola gallery that John told me about (he’s on ‘the board’), featuring the photography of one Julia Margaret Cameron, the Victorian photographer. Then I shall get a bus over to Ventnor, the next stage of my journey, and enjoy exploring that.
So Wight Walk becomes Wight Wander. I’m still going to complete the circuit but under less painful circumstances.