Thoughts from the Wild

 I finished the Big Wales Thing some months ago, and have ever since felt a bit guilty and frustrated that I haven't really written anything about it. I know that I could write a day by day account of my 225 mile, 15 day journey through Wales, or extract some practical lessons for others that might want to do the same thing. Or maybe write some reviews of the kit that I used and the food that I ate.
But somewhere inside me those don't feel right. They might be useful or interesting in their own way, but they wouldn't express the real deep feeling that came from my journey, the complicated and mixed emotions.


Sitting here, snug in my kitchen with a coffee on a chilly morning, I have in front of me the background image on my laptop screen. It is a picture of Cadair Idris taken from a bivvy spot in the edge of the Rhinogs in the middle of my journey. The cliffs are bathed in warm early morning sunshine, and the route I had taken the day before, over the peak and down the steep loose ridge of Fox's Path, is clearly visible. I only have to glance up at that picture to be taken back to that morning. I was sitting on the wall of an old sheep pen, the chill of the dawn just lifting with the slanting sunshine, sipping hot coffee from my favourite and trusty mug, my quilt spread on the dry stone, drying in the warming air. And the memories let me relive the flood of emotions that I was feeling. Calm. Peace. Freedom. Achievement. Self.

I had come a long way in the previous nine days. Some 140 miles of running and walking from the southernmost point of Wales, ever northwards over some of Wales's iconic mountains. Pen y Fan, Pumlumon, Cadiar Idris. I'd felt elation and joy, as well as the low points of sickness and exhaustion. I still had another 80 miles to go, over the highest peaks of Snowdonia, before I'd reach the end point on Great Orme.


But I was there. I was in my favourite mountains and I had got there alone. That is one abiding emotion, which comes back to me when I look at a map of my route or the pictures that I took. I did it! Me. Just me. It was me that had hauled myself up hills. Me that had hurtled down ridges and paths, running on the edge of control and letting gravity and providence do the work. It was me that had slogged across seemingly endless boggy heather and tussocky grass, me that had chosen when to stop for the night and which way to go when the path and the map didn't match.

This feeling of self-reliance and achievement are a very important legacy of my time in Wales. I am, I realise now, very proud of myself for doing what I did. Prouder now, I think, than at the time, when the day to day challenges took up more of my thoughts than pondering on what I had achieved. At the time, progress was measured in the passing of miles and estimates as to when (and whether!) I would reach the distance allocated for that day. It is only now, looking back, that I can detach myself a little more, and see the journey as others might see it.


This sense of achievement is not just related to the physical act of running and walking over the terrain that faced me. It also enfolds the confirmation of other skills and of the years of practice that have developed and honed them, and which gave me the confidence to do the journey. I was happy navigating in the open moorland, sleeping in a bivvy bag, cooking on a small stove, choosing clothes, picking routes and a myriad other little things. My knowledge that I can do these things, and the way the journey demonstrated my competence, is a great source of pride.

But there are more feelings lurking when I look at my image of Cadair in the early morning sunshine, things that maybe others can't see as easily.

One is about being close to nature. My journey took me through several towns and I didn't spurn the comfort of pubs and B&Bs on my way along, but the vast majority of my time was spent in the hills and countryside of Wales, and over half my nights were spent wild camping under a small tarp. I was immersed in nature and the wild. From young stonechats to circling buzzards, unidentified mosses to changes in the rocks, wind driven rain to dew covered grass, the majesty of mountains to the delicacy of a trickling stream, morning sunshine to uncountable stars. For me, these continuously overlapping and omnipresent experiences never lose their power to capture my sense of awe and wonder, and it was a privilege to spend so much time immersed In so many of the things that my housecaroffice-based life distances me from.

The flipside of this gorgeous and fulfilling exposure to nature is that I was, to a large extent, in nature's hands. I was very lucky with the weather, but knew I had to be prepared for, for instance, day after day of rain (which wouldn't be unusual for Wales!) My biggest dread before I left was being wet through for days. As it happens the worst weather was at the end, and for the last night I borrowed a proper tent (a Laser) which kept me dry through 8 hours of overnight rain. (Thanks Alice!)

Apart from the planned meetings with friends and family along the way (many thanks to Simon, Alice, Pete and Kath for their support), I didn't meet that many people on my journey. On one day the sum total of my human contact was a farmer on a quad bike, who lifted a hand as he passed! But those I did meet were interesting and friendly. The ex-policeman I met and walked with who explained how the village had changed in his time there with the closing of the mines. The security guard, watching over a huge forest and the windfarm being built there, who told me of his life as a miner and then a lorry driver and his feelings about now being reduced to sitting in a Landover for 8 hours a day, looking out over the hills. The lonely landlord in the pub where I was the only guest. The young couple visiting Wales for the first time and asking for ideas of what to do. The fellow walker, sharing the same route for a few miles, and the same ideas for life. The girl who saw me running beside the road on the way out of Snowdonia and stopped to offer me a lift. They all lifted my spirits and my belief in the goodness of people.

Another, perhaps more obvious, feature is solitude. I was worried before I went away that I would be lonely, that I would miss family and friends. And I did! Once or twice on the journey (especially in the middle when I was poorly) I felt a deep lonesomeness and distance, which, combined with the loss of inhibition that comes from being alone, saw tears flow unstoppably down my cheeks and the odd sob. It feels strange or silly now, but it felt natural and inevitable at the time, and somehow not sad or bad, just a strong feeling of caring for others.

But apart from those odd low moments, I found myself very happy with my own company. There is a great freedom in not having to rely on, or ask permission from, others. I got up when I liked, stopped when I liked, ran bits I wanted to, made my own plans and my own mistakes, and walked the hills that suited me. One day I stopped to fill up with water by a babbling stream, and just lay down in the sunshine for a 30 minute snooze. Much though I love walking and running with friends, the freedom of being able to just do things like that on a whim is a gorgeous and liberating feeling.


Can I sum up how I feel about the trip? No! There are so many facets and elements that made it such an amazing time. Nature, solitude, self-reliance, people, running, fatigue, big skies, achievement. How do I feel about it? Satisfied with my capacity to succeed in this self-posed challenge. Really pleased that I posed it and that I went through with it. Glad I have friends and family that supported me and put up with all the training and my being away for the run itself, and who met me and helped me along the way. Glad that I made it.

I know it wasn't the biggest challenge in the world. I'm not the first person to have run and walked the length of Wales. People have done far harder, longer, tougher things. But I hadn't. This was my challenge and I overcame it.


How do I feel?


I feel good.
And proud.

See that mountain in the picture? I did that!