Cometh the hour, cometh the men…and the woman (!)

Scott, Shackleton, Amundsen…to that list of intrepid adventurers who conquered snow and ice in pursuit of their goals, can we now add the names Newstead, Hare, Brown and Trevethan?  Or did we end up more like Captain “I may be some time…” Oates?

For despite all the tongue-in-cheek bloggery about how difficult, hazardous, and potentially lethal our 13.5 mile canal-side half-marathon walk could be, the elements did appear to conspire against us to turn what could reasonably be described as a “good stretch of the legs” into quite a tough challenge – well tough for four normally office-bound 40 and 50-somethings at least.

Looking back, the whole affair seemed - like the wonderful, and thankfully now Anne Widdecombe free Strictly Come Dancing - to pay homage to the movies…with a little bit of classic TV thrown in for good measure. Read On. If you don't have time to read on but would like to donate anyway, please go to http://www.justgiving.com/simonandcolin2

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Thursday morning. With the smug grin wiped off my face I battled through our first significant snowfall of the season to Woking Station to face the usual South West Trains bad weather chaos. But to my delight, in spite of serious delays, the few trains that were running were at most half full, and I arrived at my desk at a very reasonable 09:45. The only member of our party who was unable to dig her car out and get to work was Clare. Taking an enforced day’s leave did, however, give her a full day to somehow get from Southsea to Woking for Friday’s big event.

Thursday afternoon. As the day wore on, South West Trains went into total meltdown, amidst tales of two hour delays and thoughts of a night sleeping on the concourse I reluctantly grabbed my laptop and headed off early to Waterloo.

Colin managed to get the last guaranteed Woking bound train from Surbiton, and Clare had also managed to get onto a train, as it turned out had Tony.

At Waterloo, hope was fading fast as the information desk explained “we have trains on every platform, but no crews, and lots of trains outside Waterloo that can’t get in because all the platforms are full.” I turned to head for the cash point: Taxi seemed the only hope.

Then I saw a face I vaguely recognised. “Are you Ben? Ben Spencer” An old school chum who I hadn’t seen for more than 25 years. It was indeed him so, to cut a long story short, after a visit to the ATM and some tough negotiating we persuaded a taxi driver to take us home. It was turning into a real life “Trains, Planes and Automobiles”.

Meanwhile Clare was arriving at Woking after hours of cross country zig-zagging. As she pulled in, the train doors remained resolutely closed - they were frozen shut and had to be chiselled open, in a scene rather reminiscent of Doctor Zhivago when the only way they can get out of the frozen Siberian train is to shatter the curtain of ice with an axe!

All smiles now: So would you be - just hours earlier Clare was trapped in a frozen train

After a couple of hours catching up with Ben, I arrived in Woking. You’ve all heard of “Miracle on 34^th Street” well I was about to experience “Miracle on White Rose Lane”. The taxi meter had stopped some £15 higher than the driver’s estimate. But to my total astonishment he insisted I only pay him the original cost quoted. It was still an expensive way to get home, but I was home, and £15 better off than I might have been. Cue angelic voices and tinkling Christmas bells.

Friday morning. D-Day arrives. By now we appear to be getting a constant stream of texts, facebook messages, e mails and voice mails all saying basically the same thing. “Don’t do it, it’s too dangerous, you’ll slip over and break your legs/fall in the canal/freeze to death/catch hypothermia”.  Hmmm. Maybe we are all mad, but we’ve managed to get to this point so on we must go.

The mountain of clothes laid out on the bed must have weighed at least half a stone, presenting a serious dilemma: Extra weight and with it more warmth, or less weight and the possibility of one very cold and miserable day indeed? The extra layers won.

With no trains to Guildford another taxi beckoned, and a long bus ride for Tony, just to get to our starting point. As we drove the last few hundred yards to Guildford Station, we caught a glimpse of the frozen canal and the taxi’s external thermometer registered -3C. Yikes.

Weighed down with layer upon layer of warm clothing and ample provisions – M&S sandwiches, mini pork pies, energy bars, fruit juice, jelly babies and of course Colin the Caterpillar cola flavour chews - we hit the tow path. Well we tried to hit the towpath, but the closest we could get was the town centre bridge across the canal. Short of abseiling down the bridge, “Die Hard” style we couldn’t seem find a way to the towpath. Finally we found a path that led to an alley that led to some steps that eventually led to the towpath. It was 10:30am.

Frozen ground, frozen canal, frozen grins. It was cold.

After an hour we checked our progress. Oops. Too much frolicking and photographing had kind of slowed us down – we had managed a measly mile and a half. It was very slippery underfoot but if we carried on at this rate we would not finish until half past seven. Which would mean at least three hours of walking in the dark, something not to be recommended on an icy towpath.

We had to inject some speed but unfortunately it wasn’t long before Clare slipped and fell, twisting her knee. With about ten miles still to go this was not good news. As we progressed she dropped further and further behind. I considered leaving her a trail of jelly babies in the hope that she would eventually catch up with us, but then had visions of her being picked off by a hungry snow leopard, just like a little arctic fox cub at the back of the pack in one of those David Attenborough documentaries. However, a swift change of footwear soon put her right and we quickly regained our momentum.

Friday afternoon. By 1:15 we had covered 6 miles so we stopped for a coffee and toilet break. As we sat in The New Inn at Send the clouds parted and at last the sun made a welcome appearance. This gave us just the encouragement we needed and we set off again with new found enthusiasm.

A bit of sunshine can lift the sprirts no end

Crossing snow covered water meadows bathed in late afternoon sunlight was beautiful, but we soon realised that we had seen hardly anyone all day, and as our shadows grew longer and longer things started to get just a little bit spooky. It felt as if we were the only survivors in a post apocalyptic ice age, walking and walking to who knows where, never getting there, just walking and walking. Then the silent beauty of the snow covered countryside was replaced by electricity pylons, and graffiti-covered concrete pillars carrying thundering traffic on the M25 directly above our heads. It was a scene from 70s kids TV classic “Changes”.

Friday Evening. The sun dropped below the horizon just after four, the mist started to rise from the canal and the temperature plummeted. I went to take a swig of water from the bottle I was carrying in my bag only to find that it was frozen. Thank goodness for the extra half a stone of clothing.



Pretty? Yes.  Cold? Yes.  Dark? Very nearly....



Darkness presented an altogether new danger – Tree roots, now invisible to the naked eye are the perfect trip hazard.  At least the white of the snow enabled us to see where the towpath ended and the canal began. It was about this point where we realised we had miscalculated our route. Thinking we had only two miles left we our hearts sank as we discovered we still had three miles to go. Hardly surprising that this was when our joints started to seize up: Knees refused to bend. Shoulders and elbows ached. Toes throbbed in silent protest and our spirits started to flag.

Forced smiles: with over a mile to go it is pitch black. 

Text messages enquiring after our progress and sending wishes of encouragement spurred us on until at 5:30pm, seven hours after we had started, the four of us emerged from the darkness, just like Dennis Quaid and his rescue team in “The Day After tomorrow”. aching and limping, tired and hungry, but absolutely delighted to have made the finishing post, our old local, The British Volunteer, together.

With the end in sight, the body starts closing down...

We walked in to the sounds of cheering and shouting. Someone was ringing the pub bell; a message of congratulations adorned the mirror over the fireplace. The Landlord and landlady bought us all drinks and we collapsed into our seats to celebrate with friends who had come to cheer us home. With them was Sarah, Tony’s wife, who had also completed her sponsored swim that day - 44 miles over 12 weeks, the equivalent of swimming to France and back - raising well over £200 on her own.

The ever supportive Dawn and Martin give us a right royal welcome at The British Volunteer

So far between us we have raised just over £1500, which is amazingly only £400 short of what we did last year. If anyone would still like to donate, you can do so at www.justgiving.com/simonandcolin2. £2,000 is within our sights!

The sun sets on this year's mad cap fund raising ;o)

Two days to go: Any chance of a heat wave?

What do Grace House and The Wey Navigation tow path have in common? Well, it's not the weather, that's for sure. Forecasts for Friday, aka D-Day (Daft Day? as that's what is seems like right now…): Woking, Surrey: mostly sunny, top temperature of -2C. Siem Reap, Cambodia: sunny, top temperature of 32C.  Now mad we may be, but I even I wouldn't choose to walk 13.5 miles in 32C and 90% humidity, but a few degrees warmer in Surrey might be nice. Still, as long as we wear plenty of layers we should survive, even if we do largely resemble a group of toddlers in over padded romper suits.

Just a few degrees warmer.. please?

Of course the main hazard will actually be sliding into the canal, or more likely onto the canal. After the forecast low of -8C on Thursday night the Wey could be completely frozen over, which might just prevent is from falling into the water. I can picture it now, legs going at 20 to the dozen in a vain attempt to resist the inevitable crashing down onto the proverbial arras.

Whilst walking on the towpath does usually provide a little shelter from precipitation by way of overhanging trees, like city pavements, the council doesn't grit or salt them. And having walked to and form the station twice now on the Olympic standard skating rinks that Woking's pavements have become, I am afeared that the current weather conditions could seriously hamper our progress on friday. We had thought 4-5 hours would be enough, but unless I can find some studs to screw into the soles of my boots - rather like they do to horses (any suggestions work colleagues?), I think we could be looking at 6-8 hours. Hypothermia does seem a real possibility.

Despite the weather, training did continue this last weekend in deepest darkest East Sussex. We set off from our cosy holiday cottage and headed for Pevensey Beach. As we left, no snow. As we arrived at aforementioned beach? Tons of the stuff.

Not white coral sand, but a lovely snow covered beach

Notwithstanding the extreme cold and treacherous car park, it was in fact quite a pleasant walk.

A very plesasant walk really

I have never been on a snow covered beach before, so this was a whole new experience. The sun came out, the pebbles snuggled under a thick cloak of virgin snow. Everything looked magical. It's funny how a liberal dusting of white powder can turn even the most prosaic of objects into on something much more alluring. Mind you I find the same happens with a few pints of lager.

Magical: Snow can make even a tired old groyne look attractive

Unfortunately we walked for way too long, without sufficient layers and back at the cosy cottage I had to take to my bed, fully clothed and wrapped tightly in a many-togged duvet, in order to stave off the worst case of rapid onset hypothermia ever seen by man. I recovered in time for The Strictly Results Show. Which also caused me to have a relapse again. What is it with Anne Widdecombe?

Even as Dorothy, she's no friend of ours

Until now we really thought the most serious barriers to our completing our walk would be a recurrence of plantar fasciitis (Simon), a worsening of our lateral Epicondylitis (both of us), or anything to do with Colin's feet. And of course a nasty drop of rain. BTW that’s policeman’s heel and tennis elbow. It’s amazing how much you use your arms when hiking at ramming speed.

Surely no one in their right mind would choose to go walking in such arctic conditions? In fact, if this was some professionally organised event, the Health and Safety people would probably have called the whole thing off.

Well we won't be calling it off as it's all in a great cause and there are plenty of warm pubs en route where we can take a nice hot drink if we get desperate.

Which reminds me. There is something that the Wey navigation has in common with Grace House. This Friday they will both play host to some slightly unhinged people doing slightly crazy things all for the sake of those who are much less privileged than we are.

Two days to go, so here's hoping for a last big fund-raising push. If you would like to sponsor us on our hazardous, nay life-threatening walk, please go to www.justgiving.com/simonandcolin2

And here's latest news from Bridget at Grace House:

"It’s been an emotional rollercoaster of a week.

Last weekend we watched the traditional boat teams racing down the Siem Reap River as Part of the water festival celebrations. Then we lit an offering which we also sent down the river. Unlike Phnom Penh, The races only last 2 days in Siem Reap but, just like Phnom Penh, the town was packed with people from the surrounding countryside.

Grace House closed Monday and Tuesday for public holidays, but Monday was a special day for Piseth, our welfare co coordinator. His mother died 100 days ago so he invited us all to his village to celebrate her life. All the staff and volunteers donned their best clothes and drove 60 km in a hired mini bus to Piseth’s home village. We paid our respects, were blessed by monks and visited the local pagoda (temple) and Angkor era bridge. We all had a really great day and felt very honoured to be invited.

I was woken early Tuesday morning by my daughter phoning from the UK asking if we were ok. That was the first we had heard of the terrible events at the water festival in Phnom Penh. The pictures on Khmer TV were horrific. Luckily everyone we knew wad OK.

Back to work on Wednesday. The staff were all in a state of shock but put on brave faces for the children.  A young mum came into the office with her own 3 month old baby and a 10 yr old girl. The family have just moved into our village and brought the young girl with them.

The girl’s mother had died and the couple felt the father was not caring for her, so they just brought her 100 kms to their new home to look after the baby while they grow vegetables!  She could not understand that what she has done is illegal, even in Cambodia. We will meet with the village elder next week and try and sort things – watch this space.

Second visitor was another young mum, obviously very poor with 2 children, malnourished and under size for their age. She lives in a neighbouring village but not one we serve so we had to turn her away. This was a very difficult decision but I know if we help her 20 – 30 more families will come and we just cannot help everyone.

Thursday – National Day of Mourning – Grace House closed – time to reflect

Friday – 26 Australian students came for the day to help us work on our football pitch and volleyball court. With them were two Aboriginal lads who gave the children an impromptu musical demo on a didgeridoo. Actually it was a piece of metal pipe, but it did the trick just as well. This was followed by a game of football which is always enjoyed by everyone.  It was a great finish to a very difficult week"

If you'd like to help make every week a little bit easier, please sponsor us on our 13.5 mile arctic hike this friday at www.justgiving.com/simonandcolin2