Packing and panicking

So... packing. Panic stations yesterday afternoon: pile of 'must take' stuff on one side of the floor; choice of two cases on the other, neither of which look even remotely big enough! In fact, I was SO panicked that I jumped straight in the car and off to the Trafford Centre in search of 'bigger bag'.

Got as far as John Lewis when, (faced with, frankly, not too great a selection for my purposes),  rummaging in my handbag for the tape measure I'd had the forethought to throw in there, I discover that's about all there was – having tipped the contents out not half an hour before while sorting stuff to pack! In short: no wallet.

If ever there was a divine intervention to prevent me shopping any further (Adventure Eyes will be pleased to read!!) then this was it! And strangely, having ip-dip-dipped and ip-dip-dipped again between the two cases back home, (and edited the 'must take' pile a little), both are perfectly adequate.

Mind you, by the time I'd packed all the bits and bobs of equipment, walking kit and maps, (God help me if I forget those now!) first aid stuff and toiletries, there ain't much room for stuff to wear in the time left at the end of each day. Gonna be sick of the sight of that pink check shirt by the time I get to Robin Hood's Bay, I can tell you. And don't get me started on the probable state of my day-wear (two weeks splashing through bogs... can't wait!)

My friends, incidentally, no longer cling to the theory I have 'designer mud' on my boots. They simply shake their heads in silent wonder at the apparent transformation from designer-clad art director to wind-blown, mud-splattered fell-tramper. Had some amazing words of support from all of them, however. Thanks buddies – all of you!!

Quick check on the justgiving page and we've passed the two grand mark – 41% of our target. There's talk of a couple of live interviews over Radio Cumbria's morning slot, so here's hoping the continued media coverage and word of mouth help bring in the other three grand! Thanks to TV and press so far, we've already had very kind donations from complete strangers – thank you to them, and thanks for your good wishes.

Anyway... one more sleep and we're off.! Watch this space!!

...and how could I possibly have forgotten......

...all the washing and reproofing.

Meanwhile, so much for getting some work done this week ahead of two weeks away! Spent all morning emailing the various teams and friends joining us along the way - including Sir Chris, hopefully on day three, Wednesday 4 May - organising the logistics of meeting up, estimated times of arrival, departure times and so forth. Flags, banners and team vehicles promised at various points.

Nobody's come up with a free foot massage yet but we live in hope! Did suggest to my chiropractor he might like to meet us at strategic intervals along the route - just to keep the joints creaking, you know - but, strangely, he's not taken me up on the idea... Looks like we'll have to manage on our own!

I hear the tide is up at Robin Hood's Bay early afternoon on the day of our arrival, if we fancy a paddle (look, if you think I'm swimming in the North Sea in mid-May - mid any month come to that! - you can think again!). Paddle sounds good though. We could take our trans-Pennine pebbles with us.

Anyway, must dash, just remembered something else I didn't get...

Easter Monday quiz: how many lists can one woman make?

Answers on a post it note please – but make it a different colour to any of mine. So not yellow. Or green. Or blue. Oh and nothing on backs of brown envelopes or torn off edges of newspaper pages. Because they'd just get mixed in with all the notes wot I already wrote and confuse me.

Seems like only yesterday (nearly four weeks – how time flies!) I was witness to the last minute packing, unpacking, repacking, unpacking and repacking (repeat as many times as possible in a three week period), and multiple listmaking required in advance of a pretty major expedition. Things-to-do, things-to-remember and things-you'd-probably-rather-forget: post it notes must be making a FORTUNE!

Then there's 'must get out on the hill/get to the gym/go for a run or I won't be fit enough syndrome'! The sorting out work stuff, money stuff, house stuff, family stuff, friends stuff...

'Wow!' I thought, somewhat naively. 'Thank God I'm only going Coast to Coast! At least I won't have to do all this!'

Ha!!! No, ha ha ha ha!!

That sound you hear, dear reader, is hysteria. Just to put you in the picture, this fine, four day Easter weekend I have mostly been putting in a bit of on-the-hill training; pounding the treadmill and climbing the stairmaster thingie; shopping, shopping, shopping and more shopping (well I keep thinking of things I haven't got yet!); and making lists!

Gail, incidentally, tells me she doesn't make lists. How can you NOT make lists?

It's forward planning you see. Forward planning. Speaking of which, somewhere along the way I decided I'd plot the route ahead of time – prepare ourselves a set of easy-to-follow daily route descriptions, mark up the maps and work out rough timings. This latter not least so I can provide an ETA at each location for the mountain rescue colleagues popping along to meet us. But let me tell you THAT little exercise took a wee bit longer than anticipated! Still, should now have far more time at the end of each day to eat, drink, blog and sleep!

And, finally, that TV appearance. Can I just say, that cutting room floor must have been knee deep. The bit about ViewRanger; any mention of the iPad (okay, I get those two – it was the BBC after all); the bit about the battery in smartphones and the iPad in particular being power-hungry and if you lose that, and it's your only source of mapping, you've lost your navigational ability; the bit about map and compass absolutely being our first line of defence, the iPad destined to spend most of its journey tucked inside my rucksack... all gone. Do people now think I'm going to stumble around the bogs and crags of the north of England carrying an Apple computer before me like a tray?

That said, thanks to the power of television, I do seem to have acquired some new Twitter friends – handy, their own tweets would suggest, if I'm ever down wit the homiez or in the market for a purple pill.

Bits and bobs

As date of departure draws ever closer, so the shopping and 'must remember to pack this' lists seem to grow longer. Popped up to the sunny Lake District last night for a couple of days (and incidentally there was NOTHING on the road – clearly setting off at 8.30pm, on the Thursday before Good Friday is a sensible plan!) so took the opportunity to trawl the outdoor shops of Keswick for a few last minute essentials.

Like an extra pair of walking trousers (and thank you George Fisher's who seem to be the only outdoor retailer in the UK that actually stock technical trousers for LONG female legs! And plenty to choose from); a new 1.5 litre 'bladder' for the rucksack (so I can carry more water and drink hands-free); a 22 litre dri-bag for the inside of the rucksack (just in case it rains – but, of course, it's not going to....); and another couple of pairs of socks.

Last week stocked up on Compeed, plasters, and general first aid items, as well as the usual toiletries. Think I might just about be getting there on the shopping list now. All I have to do now is pack the stuff.

Back to (hopefully also sunny) Manchester tomorrow and another job list: wash and reproof all the Paramo; finish sorting out our approximate route plan, mark up the maps and work out approximate timings so we can let the various teams know our ETA for each day; liaise with Huw and Sally about what happening when we arrive in Robin Hood's Bay.

The plan has always been to 'launch' the Mountain Rescue Benevolent Fund as we arrive on the beach, poised to throw our respective pebbles back in the sea (carried, as tradition dictates, from the beach at St Bees, all the way across the country). Rumour has it there's a bottle of champagne on ice. And we've even been promised home-baked Victorian sponge with lashings of butter cream by cousin Bee – how good can it get?!

I believe we may be accompanied for our last leg by members of the Scarborough and Ryedale team, in training for their own endurance walk later this year. They have been given strict instructions that they walk at 'Twirlie pace' – more to the point, 'Twirlie pace after two weeks of walking' and who knows what pace THAT might be! Could be we're SO fit, we're positively skipping round the coastal path to Robin Hood's. Let's hope so eh?

In fact, now I come to think of it, that sounds like a plan!

Sheep poo on the shoe

Another day, another adventure for the Twirlies and this time it was off the Clough Head car park (in sunny Haslingden) to meet the film crew. Well I say crew, I mean the delightful Laura and her cameraman. And the weather gods were kind. Which is just as well what with Gail turning up in her slippers, having forgotten her boots... No, don't say a word.... I know, I know. (But at least the hair matches the Paramo now.)

As it was, we didn't have to walk far, just up and down, then up and down and across and down, down and across, then up and down, down and up... we looked at the map, poked about a bit with the iPad, tried to look natural, pointed at the far horizon, you know the sort of thing. Julia Bradbury: eat your cotton-picking Countryfile heart out! Then a few lambs gambolled across the field ('Ahs' all round) and I stepped backwards into a very large pile of sheep poo. And me in my 'Sunday best, don't really go on the hill' trainers! Ah well.

But I think it went okay. And hopefully there's some stuff there for Laura to use. There's more filming to be done with the Lakes teams, then a live bit as well. So, watch the screen on Easter Monday, from 6.00am and then through the morning. BBC News.

I'll be hiding somewhere behind the sofa.

...what price that media training now?

Seems the Twirlies might hit the small screen soon – 'Z list' status here we come! Panic? Moi?

'All you have to do,' says Laura from BBC News, 'is imagine it's just you and me, having a blether...'

I'll try to remember that. Once I've calmed down, remembered how to breathe – and, more importantly, how to speak. Oh, and whatever the heck it is I need to say. Ohmmm...

The things you can do with a tennis ball

Another weekend preparing for our adventure and it occurs to me life is starting to resemble the 'set-up' scenes on some dodgy TV reality/makeover show. You can just hear the Nick Knowles-style voiceover, every syllable oozing sardonic delight as he sums up the catalogue of woe thus far: evidence – if evidence were needed – of the sheer enormity of the protaginists' challenge, the impossibility of success against such odds.

...'Will the girls remember which end of the compass points north?... Will Gail remember to pack her map and will her hair colour exactly match the Paramo jacket?... How many finger nails will Judy break before throwing in the towel? And whose was this crazy idea anyway? Don't they know there are beaches out there, poolside recliners with a never-ending supply of gin and tonic, fresh towels and sun cream, vast expanses of unfeasibly blue water just waiting to be paddled...

Last week it was slipping on a scree path (broken finger nail, bruised bum, grazed coccyx), and dehydration, followed by a points-earning backflip off stepping stone in the-beck-that-bit-back (very bruised ribs, soggy pants).

At some point, too, I've acquired a 'tweaky' knee – generally fine for most of my walking or running but every now and then, it just 'tweaks' – cue a session at the chiropractor and some instruction from him on how to inflict pain on myself by the judicious application of thumb pressure. And it does seem to do the trick. Once I've stopped myself screaming.

And then, as if not being able to breathe thanks to increasingly painful ribs wasn't enough, the birch pollen decides to put in an unseasonably early appearance – prompting friends to ask if I'm okay because my 'breathing sounds a bit laboured'. Just what you need when you're attempting to walk across England, taking in the odd hill here and there. So now the asthma medication is upped – but at least that's manageable.

And THEN, yesterday, my little 'LDW Gruppenfuhrer friend', as I've now affectionately named her (seasoned long distance walker in whose wake uphill I am often to be found puffing, panting and generally begging for mercy) suggests we do a walk from Dovestone Reservoir, up and round the crags which line the Chew valley. Great, I thought, good training... until I climbed out of bed... no, attempted to climb out of bed, yesterday morning and realised that the pain in my ribs has now partly migrated to my right hip joint! Cue another little trick from Tim the chiropractor, involving pinning a flourescent (although I have to confess the day-glo bit is not mandatory!) tennis ball to the wall with my bum and wriggling around until I find the spot that REALLY hurts, then applying even more pressure. I generally stop when the screaming gets too loud. Heaven knows what the neighbours must think.

Anyway, what with that and the Nurofen, it was a cracking day out with blue sky and sunshine and (largely) the place to ourselves, as we skirted the valley sides with some amazing drops beneath us into the valley.

More torture with the thumb screws and the tennis ball on my return – accompanied, I probably should say, by a large glass of wine. (I'm told it's an integral part of the Coast to Coast experience!)

Another fine walk this morning, this time a little nearer home – in fact, walked straight out my door and off on an admittedly very flat route round the local footpaths and looplines. Good three hours' yomp. I can't pretend my alter ego Creaky Old Jude didn't climb out of bed masquerading as me this morning but one look at that tennis ball and she was off!

So there we are. And – getting back to Mr Knowles and his genre for a moment – you and I both know it's only so much televisual windbaggery. It always comes good in the end.

That said, those three little words 'flourescent tennis ball' now added to my ever-lengthening packing list...