After four days of fun with Emily, it’s time to head south to Devon and catch up with my walking buddy. Thursday, Emily and I relaxed in the morning, as she had also just arrived home from Albania. Later in the day, a nice walk along the Thames and a couple of pints of Guinness, was just what the doctor ordered. Friday, we became more adventurous and rode bikes for 20 ks to Richmond and shared fish and chips in the white cross pub. Sounds more like the name of a church,bathed in 30 degree weather. Friday night we met with a couple of Emily’s friends. A pasta at an Italian restaurant, which was really nice, a pint at the Falcon, and a stand up comedy show. I,of course  opened my mouth, and became the fall guy for a lot of jokes. It was a lot of fun. Saturday, more fun at the Polynesian food festival. Lots of singing and dancing in authentic costume and great food. Sunday, I joined my daughter in church. The roof was looking a bit scary, but was still in tact by the time I left. If you’re in England on a Sunday, you have to go to a pub for a Sunday roast Sunday night, we again joined Emily’s friends and had the most delicious, humungus roast. It consisted of, roast beef,pork and chicken. Roast tatas,carrot corn,peas and gravy,and wait, there’s more,Yorkshire pudding. Washed down with a couple of pints, I’m glad we walked the 3 ks back to Emily’s hoos.

White cross inn, in the background

We won’t talk about the last fifteen or so months. However,the future is looking good. I am back in London, sharing a few days with my second daughter Emily. Next week, I’ll head back down to Bideforde, where I abandoned my journey to come home. My friend Randy from America is joining me for the first ten days. I’ll introduce him as, he’s Randy all the time, I’m Randy, some of the time, and Hank, the rest of the time lol. Should shake up a few pommy feathers. The weather here in London is awesome as I speak. Hopefully it will be like this down south. But like Melbourne in the summer, you don’t know what happens in an hour or so.I bought a one way ticket, in case I have to get home sooner than I plan to. If I get ill due to bad weather, I may consider heading to Spain, where the weather will be warmer. Or if my mission fails completely I will head home. In the meantime, I’ll rest up and enjoy sunny London.

I’ve been home probably six weeks, and so far, not much fun. I visited my doctor, who organised a cat scan and also put me on antibiotics. The result, according to the doctor,  bad news,lots of white spots on my lungs, good news no cancer. White spots!!I’m none the wiser.Doc says wait 6 months and have another scan. If there are less white spots,I’m getting better. If there are more, we’ll action plan B and look further. As I’m getting crooker and given up the antibiotics as cough syrup and beer are doing a better job,I decide to take matters into my own hands. Last Friday,I googled lung infection and found pulmonoligist is the technical name for lung specialist. I rang one in Brisbane and they had a cancellation on Monday. I coughed and spluttered my way through the weekend and caught the train to Brisbane on Monday for my much anticipated appointment with Sam Kim, a very smily,skinny 62 year old south Korean lung and respiratory doctor. He pulled up the scan on his computer and explained the white spots. There were basically two different shapes. The triangle shapes were cement dust, and the smoother ones were silica. After the browsing and explanation exercise, Sam had me blowing my guts out into a machine that measured my lung capacity. Sam was surprised with the amount my lungs had captured and  stored over 50 something years. Even though I haven’t had a cigarette for 40 years, except for the odd joint,I have only lost 20 percent of my lung capacity. He then told me he would write a report and email it to my doctor for more discussion and consultation, and that one day I would need a lung procedure,which the doctor would explain the benefits and risks involved. I’m thinking another few months of towing and frowing. No way Sam am I going to take any advice from a bloke who can only see white spots. So I told Sam, let’s do it. Two days later and after a light breakfast of a boiled egg and a piece of toast, my blood pressure tablet, tumeric tablet washed down with a glass of water and a cup of tea at 6 am this morning, I threw a tooth brush, toothpaste,a book, phone charger, and of course a spare pair of undies into my back pack. You know the essentials you need when you’re having a sleep over. Having a couple of hours to kill, I started watching a movie on SBS called Whisky Galore. The story is set in a beautiful village in Scotland. The story goes, the delivery boat with hundreds of crates of Whisky runs aground about half a mile from the loading and unloading facility, and the town folk, having run dry,plot to get to the stricken vessel to remove the precious cargo before she sinks. Unfortunately I had to venture to my neighbour’s house to get my lift to the local train station, so I don’t know if the town folk were successful. The fifty kilometre journey was interrupted by track maintenance, so the last half of the journey was completed by bus. Under cloud and intermittent rain, I walked the last three kilometres up a steep hill and lots of stairs. I arrived at St Andrews hospital,(I hope they didn’t name it after the scum bag who is still hiding behind his mother’s apron even though she has no use for it any more), on time for my admission  and 1000 questions plus plenty of paper work. After accepting me and paying my admittance fee, I was taken to my very small change room, stripped down to my undies and put on the very popular blue gown back to front. With my matching blue slippers, I was ready for the call, up to the surgery room. Killing time by reading a book on the coming Olympics in Paris, and some interesting Olympics history, I was finally summoned by the man who puts you to sleep 😴. He explained in detail what lay ahead.Sounds fine so far.But then when he got to the bit where I  wake up and I’m going to be coughing uncontrollable for a few hours and my throat is going to be that sore for a few days I won’t want to eat, because of shoving a camera down my lungs, including other instruments and fluids for cleaning, not forgetting shoving fingers down there, I’m thinking maybe this is not a good idea after all. However, with lots of confidence, tongue in cheek, this man who is watching over me while I sleep, and got 250 bucks from me to cover the gap, tells me not to worry. After loading me on to the wheely bed, the wardsman pushed me through narrow corridors, took a couple of different lifts, maybe he was lost, we finally arrived at the surgery room. I did point the cob webs and missing paint on the ceiling  to him whilst on our journey. I couldn’t believe the size of the team. The anathesist, four female nurses, one male nurse, Sam,the main man ,and me the other main man. Although I slept through it all after a jab in my arm. It was an awsome sleep. I was driving a zebra painted 4 wheel drive across an African wild life safari park amongst all the beautiful animals. Elephants, tigers,lions,zebras,in fact I was driving towards the river to check out the hippos when some mongeral decided my sleeping meter had expired and my slumber had come to an end. In my drowsy state, I heard Sam thank the team and asked one of the nurses to jot down in her notes, that a biopsy of the right middle lobe and right lower lobeof my right lung have been taken and that would be the explanation if I started coughing up blood. As my consious state improved, and opened my eyes, I also thanked the dozen eyes peering down on me. I then questioned if they forgot to do the task that was put in front of them, as my throat felt ok and I wasn’t coughing as much as I was before going into my sleeping beauty role. I was told that the numbness from the medication was yet to wear off. Damn,I thought I might be one of the lucky ones. After checking my vitals, blood pressure, pulse etc, I was taken by wheely bed back through the corridors and lifts to ward 4E bed 1. There are two beds, and I have a 60 something years old male neighbour. An hour later around 4.30 in the afternoon, I’m given a ham and cheese sanga,water, and a cup of tea. The nurses come in every hour to check my vitals, check my oxygen tank, and ask if I need pain relief. So far so good. Tomorrow, I look forward to talking to Sam and hopefully catch the train back to Donnybrook, my home town,later in the day. Who knows, I could back on the piss by Friday night watching a miracle unfold, when the bombers beat the magpies. Cheers Hank

Woke up this morning and after considering how I feel, having the doctor’s words ringing through my ears, also discussions I had with Gayle, I’ve decided I need to come home and sort out my health problem. I could possibly have scans and X-rays done here, but I think I’d rather be at home.After having more than likely, my last full cooked english breakfast, consisting, of poached eggs,mushrooms, baked beans, smoked bacon, a sausage,toast,and a cup of tea, Yummo,  I organised a bus back to London. I’ll spend a couple of days with Emily. While waiting for the bus, Gayle helped me change my flight home, leaving Heathrow on Friday night, arriving Brisbane Sunday morning. I’m not sure how I feel about it all at the moment. My head feels a bit mixed up. I’ve enjoyed the short section that I’ve achieved.I walked 120 kilometres  and  physically, I was just hitting 100 percent. The aches were gone, and didn’t need the medicianal alchohol,that one needs at night.lol.I hadn’t been having any anyway, maybe there lies the problem. I have been exposed to a lot of chemicals, including asbestos through my working life,and I need to take this seriously. Thanks for sharing my journey, and I know I can always come back. Cheers Hank. That will be me back home next week.

Got up this morning and feeling anxious about my lungs and chest. The weather looked reasonable, so I felt that was in my favour. I skipped breakfast and just had a cup of tea.I spoke with a doctor on Sunday, and he felt, if the antibiotics hadn’t fixed me, then I need to rethink my walk and seek proper medical attention. The walk today was mainly flat following the estuary, and walking along wooded paths. According to the guide book, many walkers find this section boring and catch a bus. Compared to the spectacular coastal views, I guess you could say that. However I quite enjoyed the walk. And to make it even better, I caught up with Steph, the guy I met last week. We walked and chatted for about an  hour before stopping for a bite to eat and a hot chocolate at a water side cafe. Steph decided to wander off the track to find a wild camp site for he and his dog. Steph is hoping to go all the way to Poole, but the dog is struggling after 8 or 10 miles. We said our good byes, as I’m not sure if we will catch up again. As I walked on, there was lots of old infrastructure rusting away along the river. I finally arrived at Bideforde and booked into an older bnb cottage, arriving there around 4 pm.I felt I was starting to look a bit shabby ,so for a 7 quid makeover, which included a hair cut and beard trim, I left there looking extremely more handsome than when I went in. I then headed back to my room, had a shower, and had some pasta at the local Italian restaurant washed down with a big glass of red.

As is becoming routine, wake up,get my rattling bones out of bed, open the curtains in anticipation,and today very foggy, maybe rain temporarily gone again. While having my usual English breakfast, which I need to stop doing,the fog lifts and blue skies. Some clouds and light winds. After being dropped back to the red barn hotel in Woolocombe by a kind lady who was also at breakfast, which meant I cheated a mile, as I should have started at the beginning of town. Never mind, this will count for the wrong turns I’ve made, and I’m walking 32ks today as I can’t find any accommodation in between. Setting out of Woolacombe beach was a lovely feeling. With a chill in the air,sun shining, there was no shortage of families frolicking and children building sand castles along the beach enjoying the last day of their long weekend. As I started my climb up the headlands,I met an english couple walking their last day before heading back home to Sussex. This is how most people walk the south west coast path. As they have a few  days off, they bus back to where they finished. It can take them several years to complete.I walked  through many fields and watched the cows grazing and got up close to the coast up high and then down again to walk along what appeared to be a surf beach. Many people in the water, some with surf boards, however, it didn’t appear to be much surf. Lots of surf hire equipment, including wet suit hire. Twenty pounds to hire one. I guess that’s cheap compared to ending up with brass monkeys.I again, as I do at least once a day, found my way off the track. I ended up in some huge estate. Massive house with huge ponds and waterfalls. As I tried to find my way out of there, I imagined being shot at by some angry  aristocrat,or being set upon by some hungry hunting dogs. After ten minutes, I found a fence I could scamper over, and safely back on my way. As I walked away from my wonderous estate, two young boys approached me and asked if that was my residence. I answered that if that was my residence, I would be leaving by a rolls, not climbing a fence with a pack on my back looking like an old swaggy. After climbing one more solid hill, the rest of the day was on country tracks and reasonably level ground apart from some mud from the rain that fell the day before.

It was like being in heaven not having to leave my cosy bed. I was still up at 8, but not rushing, not packing, and just nice to lay there. When I drew the curtain, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The wind and rain had returned. Very fickle weather. I got up had breakfast and asked the inn keeper if I could use the laundry to wash my muddy and sweaty clothes, as that was going to be my chore for the day. When she offered to do that for me, I almost kissed her feet, I was so greatful. I then went back to my room for a snooze. I went out later,but spent most of the day just relaxing and doing nothing. I’m hoping that sunshine will return tomorrow. The book tells me I will be walking further with less climbing. We’ll see. At least I’ll be in a nice clean tee shirt and shorts, oh, and undies and socks.

Woke up this morning, and the sun was peering through the curtains. I jumped, well that’s how it appeared, and opened the curtains saw blue skies. Wow, how lucky for the people’s long weekend. After my English breakfast, which maybe I shouldn’t do every day, I shook away the pains and set off for a day, that,according to the guide book would be easier than the day before. It only needed one less hangman for that to happen. Today’s stage,was actually one mile longer, and the total ascent was 3345feet,which was 900 feet less. After yesterday’s epic and legs still feeling like jelly, not sure after reflecting on the day, how that was easier. The magic of today was the views under blue skies, the amount of locals out walking their dogs, who would stop and have a chat, wishing you success and telling me of some of the sections they have walked. Also for the first time, actually walking through a village and caravan park and not much mud.Watching all the kids playing chase and the campers every where. The whole place was buzzing with warmth and excitement. Back to the track, a fair section today had steps built made of sleeper risers, probably because of erosion. It made it tough as these steps were very uneven from movement from the weather over time, and to having to go up or down, sometimes 100 odd steps, I certainly rested for minutes on getting to the top or the bottom. When I reached Woolacombe,I was to ring the host of my accommodation, as with the long weekend, I couldn’t get accommodation in the village. Where I’m staying, is about ten minutes away. I was supposed to walk another ten minutes to the end of town, but I rang as soon as I got to the beginning, as by then, the sticks were holding me up vertical. I’ll do that last bit on Monday.

I woke up feeling reasonably good this morning. Amazing how the body recovers with a good sleep. The rain had gone, for how long is anyone’s guess and the wind started reasonably mild. This is compared to yesterday mind you. After a hearty full english breakfast, I left an hour earlier than yesterday, as I knew it was going to be a lot further today. The first mile was very pleasant, walking up high on a coastal path with bitumen under my shoes. Normally I don’t like walking on bitumen,but after all the moving rock and mud, it was a pleasure. Soon after, walking through the meadows watching all the sheep with their new born lambs was also pleasant. However, the mountain climbing returned. I lost count of how many times going up,then coming down. In and out of wooded tracks, becoming coastal tracks. The beauty was mesmerising, especially without the rain and fog. Needed lots of rests today. Along the coastal paths, you had to get out of the wind as it became reasonably strong. I ran into a few walkers today, which was nice. We kept passing each other as we rested at different times. The signage was much better today, and that also takes pressure away. Some people have a gps, and that helps, I load the map onto my phone, which isn’t any help at all, as when you leave the village, there is no signal. The guide book isn’t much help either, as it gives reference points like the name of a village near by, which you cannot see, and the name of a mountain. They all look the same. Some are tougher than others, that’s all I know. Well, back to the walk, the afternoon just got tougher the further I walked. Steph, pom, sounds more European with a name like that, walking with his dog. I feel sorry for the dog. The dog had his own saddle bags over him,probably carrying his cans of pal and his poop bags. Anyway, he said to me, that this afternoon we will hike up to the highest point of the south west coast path,called Hangman’s Hill. Well, for over an hour, the walk became really steep and never let up. I passed maybe 6 walkers, who in turn passed me when I would have a short rest. It was like a relay. Finally, when I got to the top, there was a pile of rocks, which I didn’t have the energy to crawl up. I could see my destination from there, and it looked tantalisingly close at the bottom of this gigantic mountain, but still a long way to go. Very steep going down a slippery rocky track. And to make it harder, there were still ascents before a really steep climb down. Finally when I got into Combe Martin, and I realised the sun was out, I gladly stopped at the icecream shop,and took a well earned break, before walking up the hill to my accommodation only five minutes away. They say, the whole of the coastal path is like walking four mount Everists, I’m sure we walked one today. The guide book says wayward marks and gentler slopes for the next stage. Mmmm, see what happens. After a hot shower, I rested for a while and found a nice pub,the dolphin,there I drank plenty of water and had a steak. The track today was so demanding, that my stomach muscles were aching after I took my pack off. Anyway, as Rob said, what some people do to have fun.

While I was  chatting with Gayle on the phone this morning, I made the mistake of opening the curtains to show her the beautiful old cottages and pub across the road, and they were. The problem was the weather. It was raining and very windy. By the time I got to  breakfast, the five other people staying at the bnb had checked the forecast and decided to catch a bus. I said if you check the weather every day, you would be better off hiring a car. I have to admit they were right. When I left, I hooked up with a pom from the Midlands, just doing the first two stages. He had a gps. That made it easier as far as not taking wrong turns go. Especially as the weather got worse. Like yesterday, plenty of wooded tracks, only today, much steeper, much longer, and muddy and slippery, and fog, and misty rain. At least in the woods, we were protected from the wind. Not once was I able to remove my pack for a proper rest as it wasn’t worth doing. Whenever the fog lifted and back near the coast, the views were stunning. Under blue skies , they would’ve even looked better. At one stage, there were three people having a picnic. Must have been local idiots. Hey, they were enjoying themselves. In the afternoon coming out of a wooded area, I turned the corner onto a coastal path, and whamo, straight into the eye of a blizzard/storm. Completely exposed to the elements. The wind was incredibly strong. A thin stony and muddy track, with a drop off of probably 50 plus metres, made it all the more scarier. This went on for at least an hour and a half slowly descending into Lynmouth. Lynmouth is a picturesque village sitting on a sometimes wild ocean with a wilder river running through it into the ocean. I thought I was spent by the time I reached Lynmouth. However, the half hour walk to my accommodation was up the steepest hill I have ever tackled. When I finally got to my room, in this 285 year old hotel, I was so happy to see a bath .I filled it up and must have fallen asleep for at least an hour, soaking my frozen aching old bones. The rest of the evening was spent trying to wash my muddy everything and getting them dry for tomorrow, and that includes my shoes. After a fish and veg pub meal, I didn’t have any energy to explore this gorgeous little village. Tomorrow’s walking is supposed to be further, I hope I find someone to follow as when the weather is bad, you tend to concentrate on your walking and not looking for signs. Also, when the weather is atrocious, I have to remove my glasses. The skeleton photo is obviously some poor sod who didn’t make it.