Imagine a
powerful computer that is so small it fits into the palm of your hand, can listen
to geostationary satellites way up in the sky and communicate with any other device
like itself in the world; something that can be calculator, can recognise
speech and turn it to text, is a word processor, a diary and a source of all
sorts of applications including one for bird spotting. No need to imagine it
though, because it is today’s smartphone – wonderful.
I recently
walked from Wantage, near Oxford, to Lyme Regis on England’s south coast
following the ridgeways which make up the country’s oldest travel routes. I did it the wild way: no forward booking, no
cloying timetable – simply a return date on which I was booked for a tour some
nine days after my departure. Freedom: but at a cost. The cost was the weight
on my back of the tent, sleeping bag, mattress thingy, clothes and footwear,
water, food, books and maps. The desire to minimize that weight became almost paranoiac.
I would
have needed four or more maps, why not use phone? I tried it out using
something called OS maps and it was great, the phone knows where it is from GPS
and the app projects that onto a map. It’s a bit small in coverage at times but
otherwise probably better than a map. But I needed books, particularly my bird
book. Here a friend recommended a bird spotting app and that was great too. I
didn’t even need to take my Kindle because I could read my current novel on the
phone. Great, everything great and light. But what about charging the phone? I
bought a battery pack with a solar charger, a bit heavy yet only about the size
of the phone itself – I was off grid!
All went fairly
well. The load I carried was still quite hefty and so my feet began to ache and
my posture to sag as each day wore on, but I could cope and cover the 15 plus
miles a day needed to reach my goal. I met many interesting people along the
way or in the pubs where I ate each evening. I did not see many birds of
interest, but had a good sighting of a country fox and an unaware hare.
Each
day I rose very early and walked some way before stopping for a simple
breakfast. On one occasion I sat on a bank to change from sandals to boots and
to eat. The location was pleasant: a hill rose up behind me dotted with cattle
and to my fore I had a wonderful view over a valley. I noticed the cattle
coming towards me as I finished my meal, about twenty of them. I was ready to
move on but they were upon me before I could pack up to go. Usually cows do not
come too close and a shout or a wave deters them. Not this lot. Led by an
aberrant one, let’s call her Kate, they crowded around me. Kate was determined
to explore my bits and pieces which were strewn on the ground. She licked my
tent bag (green) dripping saliva over it. I hit her on the nose – no effect. I
grabbed the tent bag. She turned her tongue to my sleeping bag (not even
green), slurp, slurp. The others kept pushing forward, but left it to Kate to
do the exploring. I grabbed the sleeping bag so she started slurping away at my
mattress whilst ignoring my heavy blows to her snout. Awkwardly hanging onto my
bits and bags I managed to struggle out of the crush at last and luckily Kate
did not follow.
Entering
Dorset I found the countryside particularly stunning. It’s Thomas Hardy country
and best described by him, but here goes: rolling hills, valleys full of
irregular fields bordered by thick hedges and fulsome trees. Every shade of
green imaginable and so little in the way of human habitation that the scenes slumber
in the warm sun evincing feelings of softness, peace and harmony.
My
favourite village was Cerne Abbas: beautifully kept with three pubs one of
which does not sell Palmers beer, thanks be. My nemesis was the next stop –
Beaminster. I found a nice spot beyond the town in a wood near a stream (for my
ablutions) and apparently only visited by dog walkers who seemed a friendly
bunch. The only cloud on my horizon – the phone had stopped charging though I
had juice in my battery pack. I could no longer access the maps and without maps I could not follow the
Wessex Ridgeway to Lyme because it was not well marked. I walked back into
Beaminster and tried to get someone to charge me up in the pubs – no success. I
did not sleep much that night since I thought that I must abandon the walk at
that point: so near and yet so far.
In the morning after my “showering”, a dog
walker passed by and I asked him if I might buy a map in Beamister. He said no
because there were no shops of that sort and besides it was Sunday (I had lost
track of the days). However, he and his
wife said that they had maps I might borrow so we arranged to meet at their car
and they did indeed lend me a perfect map. Using that I pushed on, finally
arriving in lovely Lyme Regis at seven-thirty the next morning for a quick swim
in the cold English Channel followed by a journey by public transport back to
Oxford.
Moral of
the story: do not rely on mobile phones too much (actually it was simply the
connecter that had failed) and be grateful to good Samaritans (I am returning
their map). Steps completed approximately quarter of a million. Blisters –
none. Beer consumed – lots.
