Competa Walking Festival : September 2026

Having learned my lesson last year (being totally knocked out by attempting the most difficult level on Day #1, only because it was the only level remaining to book!) I got in faster this year and booked myself and my cousin, Peta, onto Level 1 of the Competa Walking Festival. Lovely to meet up again with friendly familiar faces from 2025. 

Links to photos and routes follow below as they happen!

Day 1

Distance: 3.99 miles / Elevation: 1,053 feet

Video map: https://www.relive.com/view/vMv8zBZk7N6

Photographs: https://photos.app.goo.gl/z8Grsy2fFMmML8Fu5

Day 2

Distance: 5.21 miles / Elevation: 1,230 feet

Video map: https://www.relive.com/view/vrqo73BRryq

Photographs: https://photos.app.goo.gl/kR1GWjhPiA4EvqyE8

***

Oh, dear. Then it all went wrong for me! A nasty blister on Day 1 under big toe, and trying to push through on Day 2, meant that I put too much compensating strain elsewhere in the body, and by Day 3 various leg and back muscles were screaming at me. So the final two days were wiped out for me. However, my intrepid cousin continued and managed the whole festival; and the links below to photo albums are shots provided by Sheila Gallagher, who was our steady and reliable backstop for all four walks. Not my photos, not my hikes, but part of the experience!

***

Day 3

Photographs: https://photos.app.goo.gl/FVWz2m6Vkp1p3VeJ6 (Sheila)

Day 4

Photographs: https://photos.app.goo.gl/5Ft2iXp9NvKNcZVy9 (Sheila)

***

Day 4 final paella meal

Photographs: https://photos.app.goo.gl/dcv8WJwhFkyvhdyC7

Below: me feeling rather fraudulent with my medal as I'd only completed two out of the four hikes!

Competa Walking Festival

My sister lives in this beautiful corner of southern Spain - about an hour east, and slightly north, of Málaga. The scenery is stunning, the roads terrifying (hairpin bends like you wouldn't believe), and the walking challenging.

Knowing of my love of hiking, she flagged up to me the Walking Festival that takes place in the region each September. This was its 13th year, and as far as I can tell, there were at least a hundred of us in the various groups that spent four days trekking in the region. 

Now, then. When I booked, there were only places left on Level 3 - the toughest one. The Level 3 distances for the four days ranged between 15 and 19 km (9.3 and 11.9 miles). As a daily three-mile walker, a veteran of two marathons, and a frequent walker of 10-15 mile distances, I thought, well, it's four days on the trot - but I should be OK.

On day one, I discovered my mistake. Yes, I knew it was steep and with rough terrain - and I've met that too, in the beauties of the Peak and Lake districts back home. But this was in a league all of its own... The steepest climbs - of which there were at least three on day one - were beyond anything I'd ever met. Not quite scrambling, but two-pole assisted rocky slopes, and minor roads which at times (according to a fellow walker) were in the one-in-four category.

I managed Day #1 - by the skin of my teeth - by opting out of the final steep upward climb; I simply hadn't any power left. Happily, one of the other walkers, who knew the route well, was kind enough to offer to take me around the foot of the final peak - still stony and tough to walk, but much flatter. 

Much to my relief, the organisers are happy for folks to switch levels after the first day, and it was with relief that I joined the Level 1 set for the remainder of the Festival. These were much more in my line - still with their challenges (there is no such thing as a relaxing walk in this area!) and some steep ascents - but kinder and as a result more enjoyable. Interestingly, by day four my legs had just about started to become accustomed to the constant steepness. Not easy to keep this sort of training going in Norfolk, however!

I had a truly amazing four days. I met so many kind and friendly people - many of whom were my age and substantially older, and displaying an awesome level of fitness. The scenery was, of course, utterly spectacular, and the sense of achievement very empowering.

We concluded the Festival with a buffet meal, medal presentations for all who had walked (at whatever level) on all four days, and lots of mutual congratulations.

Below are links to photographs, short video route maps, and statistics.

***

Day One (Level Three)

Distance: 8.59 miles / Elevation: 1955 feet

Video map: https://www.relive.com/view/vPOpkBZ3QRv

Photographs: https://photos.app.goo.gl/puQU6sBKDyZg4Fye7

Day Two (Level One)

Distance: 4.00 miles / Elevation: 831 feet

Video map: https://www.relive.com/view/v4OGr38xo5v

Photographs: https://photos.app.goo.gl/BXxcbHB8HUGpcTFh7

Day Three (Level One)

Distance: 2.75 miles / Elevation: 804 feet

Video map: https://www.relive.com/view/vdvmkxYN4N6

Photographs: https://photos.app.goo.gl/h6awUfoq2gCTynTC8

Day Four (Level One)

Distance: 6.30 miles / Elevation: 1457 feet

Video map: https://www.relive.com/view/vYvExBoZBGq

Photographs: https://photos.app.goo.gl/arLBfvkG8XTFeyrS8

Overnight marathon

I was tremendously proud of my Marathon Walk achievement, supported by Karl and his gang, in June 2017. My walking activities continued, with an annual 1,000 mile target, achieved with mostly a daily 3 miles or so, and interspersed with the occasional (monthly-ish) hike in the double-figures of miles.

For some while, I'd wanted to follow the suggestion of my good friend James to complete a midsummer overnight marathon. Marriott's Way is a splendidly friendly local walk, being the site of redundant railway lines and which has been converted to a well-known walking and cycling route. I've walked various sections of it at different times of the day; it's an especial pleasure in hotter summer days, as much of it is through tree-lined shade.

Our plans to do a through-the-night walk were originally mooted some time before, but were thwarted by various circumstances - including Covid. However, finally, in June 2023 we finally got our act together. James has been my good friend and 'hiking big bruv' for many years, being originally a colleague from our local theatre group, and I can think of nobody I'd sooner have with me on such an outing: completely trustworthy, highly experienced with such 'expotitions', as Winnie-the-Pooh would put it, and always comes armed with first-rate coffee.

Marriott's Way is marketed as a marathon distance, with way-markers (decorated with metalwork from the original railway lines) at each mile. In fact, the way-markers are more like 0.9 miles apart, and the total distance is a little over 24 miles.

We started from the Norwich end of the trail shortly before 8.30pm, with a little while to go before sunset. We took photographs of each other at alternate way-markers, stopped for the aforesaid excellent coffee (freshly brewed on small camping stove) and pork pies at Whitwell Station, roughly halfway along, and emerged blinking like owls into a summer morning at Aylsham just after 7.30am.

The experience was a really special one. The sounds and atmosphere of a summer night are quite remarkable; the occasional glimpses of sheep, deer and confused pigeons; watching the progress of the sun and stars as we emerged between trees and open land. Plenty of time for chat and for silence, and to feel the land beneath our feet. 

We took the bus back from Aylsham to Norwich, where my husband collected us; James picked up his car from our house and went back home to sleep, while I went with my husband to enjoy a full English breakfast, and then crashed out for the rest of the day!

Photographs: https://photos.app.goo.gl/cs48i1Gx5gBu9tL49

Video route: https://www.relive.com/view/vYvrV324Nxv

Playing at mermaids

While I'm not a speedy swimmer (or speedy anything, for that matter) I've always been quite confident in the water - mostly due to having a mother who was a swimming teacher, and who introduced me to the water when I was far too young to be nervous of it. 

When I spotted some stunning photographs of the lovely Lindy Pieri (a beautiful model of my acquaintance) taken in the unique Tankspace venue, I commented that I'd love to give it a go. The cost of a directly-booked session was somewhat beyond my budget - a solo two hour shoot costs £350. However, a few weeks after commenting on Lindy's post, she dropped me a line to say that her photographer, the magical Halo, was booking the tank for the whole day and selling 45 minute slots for £70. Despite being a three-hour drive away in Northants, I decided it was a chance not to be missed.

I then put up a Facebook shoutout to see if any other friends fancied sharing the journey / petrol / experience, and happily Dawn decided to join in. We shared the most wonderful day, booked adjacent slots, took it in turns to dive / change costumes to make best use of the time, and had an absolute ball.

The trickiest bit is the buoyancy. I am a natural 'floater' (something to do with large front-mounted waterwings?!) and keeping myself low enough in the tank is quite a feat. The process is to breathe in through the nose, but then exhale through the mouth as you descend - if you keep lungs full of air you just stay bobbing on the surface. Not very photogenic. Trying not to strangle oneself in scarves, drop props, or breathe in a lungful of water on emerging are all interesting challenges. However, by the end of the session, both Dawn and myself loved it and only wanted to have another go. There's no question of if we return to TankSpace - only when!

I took two costumes - a red evening dress and my (last worn in 1995) wedding dress. As a last-minute thought, I also took my favourite rainbow dungarees, and sneaked in a quick five-minute dive at the end of the session, also using the hoop (last encountered in my 'budgie-hooping' attempts a few years ago).

The Tankspace staff and Halo the photographer were delightful, friendly and reassuring; the tank itself was beautifully warm, as were the loos and changing room; the whole experience was empowering, amazing and magical.

I couldn't have been better pleased with the results. We had to wait for a couple of weeks until Halo had had a chance to sort, choose and edit from a day-long session, but they arrived on 30 December (the shoot was on 16 December), and as my husband put it, I didn't stop smiling for the rest of the evening.

It's a tough choice, but I think this is my favourite shot:

- the whole set can be seen here.

What a fantastic end to the year.

LEJOG: did it!

Triumphant to have managed the whole 1,083.8 miles with one week to go (final miles achieved on Christmas Eve). This is the last of the 'virtual postcards' that appeared along the way in my inbox!

Doing some serious walking around / through / across the UK for real would be a truly wonderful thing to do - except that my other [very enjoyable] commitments (theatre / church / decluttering clients / friends / family / husband) would probably go somewhat askew if I did... Any chance of cloning myself?!

LEJOG: 90% there

 In January 2021, I knew that I badly need a new target. I'd slipped back on many of my health and fitness goals, and I know from past experience that a specific aim is helpful to my motivation.

It was Kim who pointed me in the direction of LEJOG: the Land's End to John O'Groats challenge, via the Conqueror Challenge. This is one of a selection of virtual distances all over the world: you clock the real distances you've walked, but they are logged on a map showing where you would be along that route had you been walking in that location for real. I chose LEJOG as being an achievable target based on previous years: this particular route covers 1,083 miles, which across a year equates to just over 90 miles per month. Having managed 80 miles per month consistently for eighteen months back in 2017/2018, I reckoned I could aim a little higher.

The year started pretty well, and for the first four months of the year I actually exceeded 100 miles per month. The summer months went into decline; as we all struggled with the uncertainties of the lifting of lockdown but the continuing dangers of COVID-19, I suffered like so many others with uncertainty and a lack of motivation, and my weight rose again as my mileage decreased. However, I gave myself a metaphorical shake in August, my monthly mileage exceeded 100 miles again, and now - mid November - I have just over 100 miles to walk in order to 'reach' John O'Groats in the next six weeks.

During 2021 I've enjoyed some wonderful hikes - some (the shorter ones!) with my husband, some with friends, but mostly I have enjoyed solitary excursions, between five and fourteen miles. When we've managed some lovely holidays in the UK, my patient husband has been happy for me to take a day out alone to explore new territory. In April I walked over 14 miles along the Cranborne Loop in Wiltshire, and in September nearly 13 miles between Blanchland and Hexham in the beautiful Northumberland countryside. 

On average, I'm investing one hour per day in my walking activities. Time for me and for my health. And as I approach my 59th birthday, it becomes more than ever vital to my wellbeing that I continue to do so.

Running... and not running

Reading back over this blog, I see that at New Year 2020 I was five weeks into my umpteenth attempt at Couch25K. I thought it was worth recording that I did, in fact, complete the course in late February 2021. And there I stopped.

So what happened? There were no ParkRuns at the time (pandemic lockdown) to keep me motivated to continue; and in fact, I started to find that I truly wasn't enjoying the activity as much as before. The recurrence of my old plague, plantar fasciitis, didn't help; my additional injuries incurred with a severe sprain in the right foot (2013) have never really gone away, and with age I'm finding that the lower-impact activity of walking and hiking (even for long distances) causes me much less discomfort, as well as being easier on the back.

I do miss the time efficiency of running, the occasional exhilaration when the fitness is good enough; but my hiking activities are, I believe, best for me going forward. I'm proud of the few times that I achieved 5K continuous running (OK, plodding), but now - I'm walking onwards.

More of the 2021 walking achievements elsewhere, especially under the tag #LEJOG.

Couch to 5K - and other goals

Way back in May 2007 I 'ran' (that's rather overstating the case; it took me about 39 minutes) my first 5K - the local Race for Life. 

I continued to enjoy modest runs for the next couple of years until a nasty bout of plantar fasciitis put paid to that activity. 

During this 'life list' phase I decided to have a go at Couch to 5K, and blogged here about this in March 2018. Much to my amazement, I managed it, 'graduating' in May of that year. For the next few weeks I ran for three miles two or three times a week, and achieved my first ParkRun on 2 June (at a not-very-blistering speed of 36'17" - pace 11'16" per mile). 

What happened? Well, we moved into a heatwave. I returned to walking instead of running. And got out of practice. And then we moved house - from Winterton-on-sea to Norwich - in August. 

Once we were settled in our new home, I started C25K again in November - and gave up. And February 2019 - and gave up. And October 2019 - and gave up. Although I was still walking a reasonable amount, I'd lost my impetus and the feeling of being 'a fit person'. I gained between seven and fourteen pounds (this went up and down - although I'm relieved to say that my highest weight in this period has been 11 stone 7 - well under the 13 stone 1 that was my very heaviest in 2014).

In late 2019, I started C5K yet again, and in February 2020 I 'graduated' for the second time. And on 22 February I took part in my second ParkRun.

And what happened then? Well, we all know the answer to that. A month after my ParkRun, we went into the first covid-19 lockdown. Walks continued, but not as often or as far as before; life became a struggle, motivation plummeted, fear set in, and although it would have been rational to use activity to keep my mood lighter, I just gave up. My old walking targets of 80 miles per month were seldom met (when they were, it was due to taking long hikes - between 10 and 20 miles - with my good friend James). Lockdown #2 kicked in. We moved from that into Tier 4 - which was tantamount to lockdown anyway. 

Monday 16 November. Time to start again. Food is still rather out of control ("it's nearly Christmas and we're halfway through another b****y lockdown") but I start C25K again. And somehow, I've kept going. 

Today - Sunday 3 January - I've reached the end of week 5, and have just succeeded in conquering that startling 20 minutes of non-stop running that they spring on you at the end of that week. Slow, ploddy, hard work, but done - 1.5 miles, and at a pace of just under 13 minutes per mile.

It's 2021. During this year I'm determined to 

• achieve a running/walking distance of 80 miles per month (coupled with the #walk1000miles group on Facebook)
• to graduate in early February on Couch to 5K
• to walk a marathon again
• to get my weight back down to my optimum ten-stone-seven and below (I'll be doing weights-and-measures tomorrow, but it will be around 10-12 pounds to lose)
• to rebuild this lifelist and carpe diem.

In three days' time I'll be 58 years old. I've missed my lifelist challenges, and I miss the feeling of fitness and freedom that I achieved four years ago. 

The only person that can achieve this... is me.

Walking a marathon: training for a moonlight walk

My June 2017 marathon walk (actually 28 miles, in the end) - with nine of the splendid Mother Nature's Diet group, along part of The Ridgeway - remains one of my proudest achievements. I worked for it with my friend Kim, using the Norfolk Coastal Path for training, gradually increasing distances from 11.5 miles (Winterton to Happisburgh) to 22.8 miles (Wells to Hunstanton).

One of the team on the Ridgeway walk, and on one of our coastal training walks, was my great friend James, who was also responsible for me climbing my first mountains. A casual conversation about marathon distances revealed that James had previously walked the whole of Marriott's Way - a disused railway route in Norfolk which happens to be a marathon distance - but at night, at midsummer, taking in both the sunset and the sunrise and using a head torch.

We wanted to achieve this originally around midsummer day, but the onset of the covid-19 circumstances had messed up our original plans for training. By June 2020 we had got our plans sorted, we were allowed to exercise together, and reckoned that we could fit in enough long walks to do the overnight marathon before the summer was out.

In May I started to do some long solo walks, and in June, James joined me to enjoy a long (15.5 mile) loop around Felthorpe Forest, and we felt we were on our way. Unfortunately, a back injury on my part put a halt to longer walks and I stuck to short routes for the next few weeks. By the time I was back 'in harness', in August, we were running out of summer. However, we managed two excellent long walks in August - 16+ and 18+ miles - and felt we could probably manage the marathon before James (a teacher) returned to school duties.

On 26 August we aimed to train by walking half of Marriott's Way - out and back from the Aylsham end, lunching and turning back at Whitwell, bringing us to an intended walking total that day of about 22 miles. 

In fact, it turned out to be a total of 24 miles; and while it was a fabulous day, both of us were hobbling rather by the time we finished. My foot was in some agony for several days afterwards, and by the time it had recovered sufficiently (and I'd got back off a short holiday) we'd missed our pre-term-time slot - and the nights were drawing in. 

Annoyingly, we'd walked just two miles short of the marathon distance on that last occasion! However, we know we can do it; and when the summer returns, we'll give it another go. We're determined that 2021 will see our moonlight marathon at last - watch this space!

Kayaking: broads on the Broads

I loved my kayaking experience when we were fortunate enough to holiday in Croatia in 2019. However, a fabulous July evening in Norfolk was just as enjoyable!

Kim suggested it and (mercifully) shared my vessel (I think I'd get seriously left behind if I did it alone). We went with the lovely folks of Norfolk Outdoor Adventures on Hickling Broad, who we'd highly recommend for friendly and encouraging professionalism. It was a 'sundowner' outing, and we were fortunate enough to have excellent weather.

After moving across open water and through jungle-like reed beds...

...we paused for a rest and a chat (and a beer!) before returning to base. 

It was an exhilarating and fabulous experience, and one I'd love to repeat.

Full album can be found on Google Photos here.

Kayaking in crystal waters

We were fortunate enough to experience a wonderful holiday in Croatia in September 2019. Our first week was spent in Dubrovnik, in an apartment about a mile outside the city centre; our second week on the tranquil island of Mljet. During the second week I was thrilled to find the opportunity for a trip to incorporate two of my "life list" ambitions: snorkelling (which I'd last tried on the Isles of Scilly in September 2016) and kayaking (much longer ago on a visit to Florida in 2002).

The fabulous Luksa lives with his wife, his little daughter and their gorgeous daft dog in a a lovely house on a lake, from which he operates his kayaking tours (ID Adventures) around the nearby lakes. How's this for a view to wake up to?

I left my non-swimming husband very happy with the dog on the waterfront, equipped with a supply of coffee and apfelstrudel, and set off on a magical morning with Luksa and another customer, Rich.

(Caveat: I was very relieved that Luksa offered to share a kayak with me; after a couple of miles it was clear they'd have been towing me back if I'd needed to, as it were, 'paddle my own canoe'!)

We first paused at a rockface where we took time to snorkel - finding sea anemones (Rich shows off his find)...

and then continued through the amazingly clear waters, taking it gently and chatting all the way, taking in the utter tranquillity of our surroundings. We then stopped at a small jetty (which Luksa had constructed to facilitate the stop for his clients), secured the kayaks, and climbed up the small hill to a seat (again a Luksa construction) to enjoy the perfect view. We sat and ate pomegranates (leaving the shells to be enjoyed by the local lizard and goat population) before scrambling back down the hill.

We stopped again for some more shallow-water snorkelling, and my little underwater camera was put to great use!

Returning to the lake by the house, Selwyn took photos as we came in...

Tired but happy, we then enjoyed a sensational smorgasbord (all provided as part of the very reasonable package).

This was a real highlight of our holiday, in an idyllic setting with a delightful man and his family, and I would do it again in a heartbeat.

Helicopter flight

Full album available here.

My wonderful husband knew that this was one of my 'life list' wishes, so he bought me a voucher for Christmas 2017 to experience it.

I tried to take it up in July 2018, incorporating a visit to our good friends Neville & Sarah in Oxfordshire. Unfortunately the weather on the appointed day which ghastly, with heavy rain and high winds, meaning of course the flight couldn't take place. However, a second attempt made in May 2019 was a great success.

My husband deliberately bought a voucher for one, as this isn't his thing at all! However, he did take photographs from the ground. The 'chopper' is a wonderful and exciting machine, and the views across the glorious spires of Oxford (which, we have to be honest, is more attractive from above than from ground level) were fabulous.

A very special experience!

Nuclear Rush: a muddy 10K

Full album here

This was a killer.

On a happily glorious day in May 2018, I joined four of my colleagues from Mother Nature's Diet (all considerably fitter than me) for a ten-kilometre 'muddy run'. Not only was 10k a major stretch for me (then and at any time) but the 'assault course' element pushed me further out of my comfort zone than I would have believed possible.

All clean before we started! L to R: Karl, Jane, Jason, Cassie, Kim.

We not only ran but shimmied under cargo nets (through mud), scrambled up slopes, splashed through streams, jumped off high platforms into a lake, and much more. Some hilarious, some deeply uncomfortable, some terrifying, some exhilarating. 

I found there was just one area where I was further into my comfort zone than most of my colleagues: the swimming. I'm slow but reasonably confident, having been thrown into a swimming pool when I was just months old and having no fear of water. So diving under a float to come up the other side posed no problems; it was scary coming down the 'death slide', but that came under the 'exilarating' heading; and jumping off a tower into deep water was a challenge but manageable.

I ducked out of some of the challenges - especially the later ones as I tired - but was still pretty proud to have managed quite a number of them, and - even though I was tail-end Charlie throughout, to have finished the thing at all.

Was I glad I did it? For challenge, cameraderie and personal boundary pushing - yes. Would I do it again? Probably not!! 

Running again

It's a very long time since I did any running. I got into it, in a very modest way, back in 2007/2008 (I used to blog about it here), and loved it: adrenalin rush, economy of time, great cardio - what's not to like?

What wasn't to like was injury. I had a couple of painful calf muscle episodes, but they were sorted with the help of a lovely sports masseur. However, after attempting a 10K run (rather than my usual 5K maximum) without enough training, I ended up with a nasty bout of plantar fasciitis, which started in the autumn of 2008 and continued for a full two years. Anyone who's suffered it will know why I'm terrified of its return: even a walk round the shops was painful, and simple sightseeing was agony, never mind running.

Additionally, a really serious sprain on a walk in 2013 left me with a right ankle that will probably never again be quite right - and the nerves about ever doing it again.

I went to walking, and once I'd cracked my weight problems and fitness routine in 2014/2015, this became my staple exercise. Now I achieve a regular 80 miles each month and it keeps me sane and fit.

However, in expanding my routines and aiming to build up the cardio, I have decided to try again. I probably won't ever want to go for the long-distance, high-impact stuff again. But I feel it's important to get just a bit of speed in; to be ready for my Nuclear Rush (muddy run) challenge, with my Mother Nature's Diet buddies, in May, and to be able to run comfortably between obstacles; to bring in another level.

I've just completed the first week of Couch to 5K, and so far so good. Gently does it. I should reach the 5K distance exactly in time for Nuclear Rush, and all being well I'd love to run the Wroxham 5K (last time was in August 2008... oh, my).

Watch this space.

A walk in the snow with an inspiration

I don't write about many of my walks these days; it's become such an integral part of my life that it would get pretty boring for the reader (especially those which are regularly around the same local routes). However, there are some special times that are worth recording - such as my marathon walk, or the different sections of the Norfolk Coastal Path - that mean something special to me.

I'm writing this on a fairly warm, drizzly day in early March. It's hard to realise that just a week ago we were facing several inches of snow coupled with 50 mph winds: the media called it 'The Beast from the East'.

It so happened that two days before it hit severely, I'd spotted on social media a posting about a young lass called Frances Mills, who was walking the whole coast of these islands. Having started in October 2017 at Bristol, she was at this point making her way up from Suffolk. Check out her website here.

The lady making the posting mentioned that Frances was happy to meet and walk with people, and although she was camping most of the time, was always happy to be offered a bed for the night. Living just half-a-mile from the beach, and happily having a couple of days free, I got in touch. She replied with enthusiasm, and I arranged to pick her up from our coastline on Tuesday evening, to give her a meal and a bed for the night, and to walk with her the following day to her next planned stop, just beyond Happisburgh - about 15 miles north of here.

In the event, I was lucky to get home. I'd been working with a client in Thetford that day, and mercifully got back before the snow became too deep. My husband picked Frances up from near Hemsby, and I arrived back shortly afterwards. We shared a meal and chat, and planned the following day. We realised that the snow (by now falling thickly) and (more importantly) the increasing winds meant that camping on Wednesday night, as she'd planned to do, would be more than 'wild camping' - so we insisted that she spend that night with us, too. Selwyn would pick us up from Happisburgh and bring us back.

We set off in reasonable conditions from the Rectory the following morning:

- but within a very short time it turned into a blizzard along the beach as we headed north towards Hemsby...

The wind was behind us, which helped! And as we continued, the weather did improve, with even some sun coming through. After a couple of hours we paused for a snack, sheltering in the dunes from the still strong wind.

However, at this point my husband sent me a text explaining that he'd tried to get out of the village in the car, only to find roads blocked in all directions; so we had no option but to make the route a circular one. We walked the 7.5 miles to Sea Palling, mostly along the beach, and stopped for a very agreeable lunch in the pub next to the lifeboat station. We then retraced our steps on the other side of the dunes to minimise the windchill (now in our faces). We met drifts of snow of impressive depth:

We arrived back after 15.5 miles of walking in a bit over 5.5 hours. We'd had a brilliant day, chatting most of the way, seeing the seals at Horsey, pointing out birdlife, and getting to know each other.

Click here to see our route.

The following day (Thursday) proved to be so awful, with such high winds, ice and snow, that Frances decided to take the day off and to chill out with us. We went out for a very short two-mile walk up to the beach and back, but otherwise stayed in the warm.

As she'd lost a couple of days' progress, and was aiming to reach Hunstanton (the end of this phase of her walk) on Sunday, we knew she had to reach Sheringham by the end of Friday. We were planning which roads would be best to get her there, when she calmly announced that she'd leave Winterton at 6am on Friday and walk it. That's thirty miles. And, of course, she made it with no trouble.

This young lass is a true inspiration and a delight. She's cheerful, delightful company, intelligent, determined and undaunted. I am completely awed by her and honoured to have shared that couple of days with her. I'll be watching her progress over the next two winters, as she works towards completing the whole 4,500 mile circuit (this bit was 1,300 miles or thereabouts).

Dream the dream and make it happen.

On the nursery slopes

One of the main purposes of this lifelist exercise is to try things that I'm no good at, and probably never will be - but have a lot of fun doing it, and push the boundaries of what I think I can do. This activity definitely came into that category.

Lovely friend Kim booked this 'taster session' on the Norwich dry ski slope for me as a birthday gift. I knew I was nervous, but until I saw the slopes I didn't realise quite how nervous. Watching people coming down the 'real' pistes (as opposed to the 'nursery' version that we were using) was alarming and exciting.

Once again, my inner control freak looked at the speed of descent and panicked... much to Kim's amusement, as she's used to me normally being pretty confident in most circumstances.

However, we had an excellent tutor (Toby) for our little group, and once I'd tried one (very brief) descent without mishap, I realised just how much fun it could be. We had several goes down the slope - mainly using the slowing 'snow plough' position. I couldn't manage the 'bunny hops' - testing the balance - at all, but Kim did them beautifully. I only fell over once, which in something like 8 descents or so wasn't too bad.

I still find it pretty difficult to imagine being swift and confident on real slopes... but I can completely understand the appeal, and especially that of skiing on real snow among glorious scenery. I might just give it a try some day - and if I do, I'll be back to visit the lovely guys at the Norfolk Snowsports Club for training. Watch this space.

Full album of photographs here.

Getting my skates on

I had somehow managed to get through my entire childhood (and life so far) without trying either form of skating - ice or roller. I suspect that my 'control-freak' tendencies have a lot to do with this; any kind of skating involves a lot of trust and not a little 'gung-ho' attitude.

However, when I saw that the regular 'pop-up' rink was visiting Norwich again across the Christmas-New Year period, I reckoned it was time to try it out. I put a call out on Facebook, and as a result was joined by my lovely friends Kim (regular buddy for most of my fitness activites, especially walking, for the last decade); Christine (a happy meeting through the Mother Nature's Diet group), and Andree (lovely colleague from local small business networks). Andree being the most experienced, she showed us the basics and helped us out beautifully. We were watched and photographed by two husbands (mine and Christine's).

Kim had skated before too - many years ago, but it didn't stop her showing loads of confidence and as a result doing a great job. She's definitely got the gung-ho attitude. (It also meant she fell over more often!)

Christine managed to strike out on her own very competently after a few circuits. I kept hanging on to the side for a lot longer...

Although I left the side eventually, I didn't manage to strike out on my own at all on this occasion - the thing I couldn't get the hang of was the movement to push off and hence travel under my own steam,  rather than using the side of the rink to pull along, or using the propulsion of my friends holding my hands. I think if (when) I give it another go, I'll probably get over that mental block and manage a bit better. I think, however, I did display a style all of my own... :D

(Click here for the ten-second video of the above moment...)

It was a wonderful moment when we (briefly) moved out together - although as it was a small rink, we were quickly told not to keep a row of four, as we took up too much space! Made a great photo, though, and sums up a wonderful occasion.

Meantime, however, this was an enormously enjoyable evening, spent with some fabulous and patient friends (and ending with an excellent Thai meal as a day-late birthday celebration for me).

I'm so glad I gave it a try, and we've promised a return visit when the rink returns to the Castle Gardens next winter. Watch this space.

Full album of photographs here.

Walk 1000 miles: my medal

As my monthly mileage targets have increased (60 miles from March 2015, 70 from March 2016 and 80 from March 2017) so, of course, has my twelve-month total. I was especially pleased recently to realise that this meant that in the twelve months starting on 1 December 2016, I'd finally exceeded 1,000 miles in 12 months.

I'm a member of the Facebook group that exists to celebrate and encourage exactly this goal. I have to say, when I started, I couldn't imagine myself managing 1,000 miles in a year!

So when I published this achievement to the group, it was lovely to have this posted to the comments...

Thank you to Walk 1000 Miles and Country Walking Magazine for such a fabulous initiative. Changing the world, and our health and well-being, one step at a time.

Ambulo ergo sum, indeed.

Climbing mountains

Two mountains in two days. An extraordinarily kind period of weather in late October. A group of eight of us (plus the adorable Max-the-dog) climbed Blencathra and Skiddaw, near Keswick in the Lake District. An experience I never dreamed of, and views that literally made me weep at times.

I was invited by my good friend James, a fellow member of the local theatrical fraternity and in particular the Sewell Barn Theatre, and we were joined by several of his friends across two days. The first day involved six of us (two of whom split from the main group to climb a more challenging route!) climbing Blencathra; and a further two people joined us for Skiddaw on day two.

I was the oldest (by a couple of years) and one of the least experienced. The members of the group were wonderful, keeping an eye out for everybody, taking it at a pace that we could all manage, sharing resources and encouragement. Oh, and of course, Max the dog (a beautifully behaved, nine-month-old, JRTxStaffie), who belongs to Ed but soon decided that it was his job to supervise the whole team.

Both days were blessed with wonderful weather. In both cases, the summit was shrouded in cloud, but we didn't miss much in the way of views, as we had clear and beautiful views within a very short time in both directions.

Click on the links below to view photographs and route for each of the two days.

Blencathra - Thursday 26 October

868 metres / 2847 feet

Photographs

Video of route

Skiddaw - Friday 27 October

931 metres / 3054 feet

Photographs

Video of route