Hello! There’s been a bit of a break in transmission because of a rather splendid weekend’s camping in Anglesey, but it’s been Juneathon all the way (certainly in spirit).
Friday morning was a very hard early morning run. Not hard in terms of distance (2.9 miles) or speed (slow) but definitely in terms of opening eyes, moving body into upright position and leaving the house. After the previous night’s yummy Thai (pork and prawn dumplings, chicken panang curry and storm trooper birthday cake), which was a 50 mile round trip, we detoured to do a spooky late night camping shop in Tesco. With all the shelves being re-stocked and the staff listening to their own tunes on stereos, you feel as if you shouldn’t be in there. The upshot is that it was gone midnight when we got in and when the alarm went off at 5.45 it was like someone had taken a cheese grater to my eyes.
Work over, car loaded up and off we went down to Newborough.
Early start, bacon butty eaten, packed lunch packed, factor 25 slapped on and off we go on a coast and country walk that clocked in at 11.5 miles. It was definitely an amble, with stops for paddling, lunch, looking at stuff and getting lost.
This was where we went:
And this is some of the stuff that we saw.
We set off through fields and into the forest, me keeping a beady eye on the weather (I have an optimistic attitude to packing for camping – in my head it’s always sunny. Add to that a particularly chaotic pack 5 minutes before we left and I was cagoule-less and wearing flipflops).
Eventually, we emerged into the sand dunes and onto the beach, albeit not quite on the path that we had intended to. Although we both know that it’s not a good idea, we had ended up (not for the first time) navigating using a map on the back of a leaflet. Erring on the side of caution, I made Husband promise that we wouldn’t attempt Snowdon using this leaflet and flipflop style of orienteering.
Onward we trekked, this was around mile 5.
And lots of nature too, including a very hairy (and possibly very hungry) caterpillar.
By this time, the weather had settled into blue skies and shiny sun. So much so that I exposed below my knees to the outside world for the first time since about 1999. I don’t know what you’d call my leg colour, but it’s fair to say that if I ran wearing shorts in winter, I wouldn’t need to bother with any hi-vis. I’m not sure who was more scared, me or the other poor souls in the forest.
The calories that we burned were completely offset by restorative beer, curry and bombay mix. And I was quite narked to discover that during the walk my locked phone had somehow connected to the internet and signed me up for a £4.50 a month subscription to one of those ringtone and “amaze your friends! X-ray your hand with your phone!” websites. Normally I struggle to connect to the internet intentionally using the power of the my thumb. Grrr.
The day didn’t start well. I’ve had a cold lurking for a bit and it chose Sunday to break forth. Running was totally off the cards (not least cos my feet were still achey from Day 13) so I yoga-ed next to the tent watching the clouds speed past overhead. Felt a bit of an arse, but then really didn’t care because it was so nice.
Woke up snuffly, snotty and feeling like someone had been hitting my face with a lump hammer. From the inside. Having had a hectic day at work and a whole banana for dinner, we decided to invoke the lovely walk clause of my Juneathon and pootled 2.5 miles up a new bit (well new to us, it’s been there for years….) of the canal.
More nature was waiting for us.
And best of all, a Mystic Horse. He was lovely. He was standing in a clearing, looking very serious and quite unicorn-like. Even more mystic was that as we walked back along the towpath, Mystic Horse appeared to have vanished. Less mystically, he turned up in the next field having magically transported himself through a gate.
Fingers crossed that I feel better tomorrow. I think that an early run is unlikely, but have plans for going after work either alone, with chum or with the running group.