The Dirty Two-Thirds of a Dozen or

The Magnificent Eight and their day out in the Yorkshire Dales

Okay, so a few months ago, the idea to walk 50 kilometers as a team to raise money for Mary’s Meals popped into my head. I gathered my friends, family and fellow Starbucks Partners around and asked who wanted to be a part of The Intrepid Team. It would be a handpicked team, each member a specialist in their field – think The Dirty Dozen but with only eight people and a far friendlier goal in mind. Once chosen, this brave group of adventurers would risk the uncertainties of a summer’s day in the Yorkshire Dales, walking 50K on my 50^th birthday to raise £2550 for the children of Namasimba Primary School. The plan slowly came together as we printed out sponsorship forms for the Starbucks stores involved in the fundraising and I created a justgiving page for donations. We held practice walks and planning meetings and smiled as the money donated online topped £1200 before we even started the Walk! Friends, family, partners and customers at the various stores were really getting behind the appeal and it was an incredible motivation for us to do well!

On August 31^st, at the unholy hour of 430am, we all met in Ingleton to start the adventure. (It was important to me that we completed the walk in daylight so the early morning start was essential.) The Intrepid Team was ready and raring to go: Jules Tyrrell (from Starbucks Warrington Borders) and her husband Keith, Charlie Bowring (from Starbucks Warrington Golden Square), Debbie Godfrey (from Starbucks Stockport Borders), Me (from Starbucks Wilmslow), Dave Burgess, Robyn Jones and my daughter Rachel. Wearing shirts donated by Mary’s Meals and high-visibility jackets donated by Debbie G. to alert the locals to our presence, we began our adventure.

The weather was crisp and clear as we followed the Clapham Old Road south out of Ingleton. Morale was high … and, more importantly, walking boots were comfortable and it wasn’t raining. All around us the hills were topped with clouds and our lanterns and torches lit the way through an idyllic scene. We made excellent time through the early morning mist and stopped in Clapham for breakfast before heading east along Thwaite Lane towards the river where we would break off and head north. Dave was our GPS man, tracking our progress and ensuring that we were always where we thought we were. (The Yorkshire Dales are a beautiful place but getting lost, even in these breathtaking surroundings, would put a damper on the proceedings and I didn’t want that.)

The trail alternated between wide, flat expanses to areas where the rocks underfoot were the size of small loaves of bread and everywhere we looked, there were sheep. I don’t mean that we saw a few sheep, I mean that there were sheep everywhere! (On that subject, why is it that you have one lamb or two lambs but you have one sheep or two sheep? How come sheep don’t get a plural? It’s hardly fair. Anyway, I digress…) The sun was rising now behind the light cloud cover to light our way, burning the mist off the Dales and glinting off the granite scattered over the hillsides. We made it to Helwith Bridge and joined the Ribble Way heading north, walking along the river and watching the fish as they snagged insects off the surface of the water. It was idyllic … but there were aching feet and empty stomachs in the party so we decided to stop for lunch. We would refuel for the next leg and allow those who needed it the chance to soak their feet in the River Ribble. The railway line paralleled the Ribble Way and we all watched as a classic steam train passed along the Settle-Carlisle line, the sounds of its chugging engine echoing through the valley. That was really cool and I made a note to myself that I would like to ride that train sometime in the future! I also made a note to myself that the army ration pack I bought online for the walk would probably taste better if it was heated up – cold, it was just a metallic sachet of brown, off-white and orange chunks, or as the packet stated, beef stew and dumplings. As everyone around me ate their delicious-looking sandwiches and amazingly scrumptious cold chicken legs, I thought to myself that some things were better kept simple - there was a reason why our parents made us cheese and tomato sandwiches to take with us on trips when we were younger.

Back on the walk, we hit our first area of boggy, muddy marsh, a quick reminder of the torrential rain the Dales had suffered earlier in the week. As everyone squelched their way through the obstacle with smiles on their faces, I looked down as the mud covered my boots and discovered the hard way that my boots weren’t as waterproof as I had been led to believe. Oh well, we were more than half way through the course and the sun would soon dry out my boots … and then the rain started. On the practice walk two weeks earlier, we’d been drenched relentlessly by non-stop, driving rain and for just a moment, I thought our luck had run out but this rain was different. Yes, we had to put our waterproofs back on but the cool rain and the breeze just served to cool us down so it was okay. Besides, without the rain, we wouldn’t live in such a green and pleasant land, would we?

(I should probably pause here just to tell the reader that, by this point, everyone’s feet hurt to some degree but nobody was complaining. Just so you know…)

As we hit the next small town, a place where we could sit and relax on real wooden benches rather than rough, irregular boulders, Robyn took care of the aches and pains of the Team. As a talented sports therapist, she knew what to do and strapped up my left foot that had been playing up for the last few miles. I’d landed funny coming off a stile on the Ribble Way as I dodged the heavy tree roots scattered about but hadn’t thought much of it until it started to ache. After a short break, we continued northward through the light rain. We were making excellent time and soon it would be time to head west back towards Ingleton and the conclusion of our walk.

With Ingleborough Peak to our left, we continued north on a road that disappeared in the distance like a long, grey unending ribbon. It was here that I had the thought: Why do the difficult-to-climb uphill stretches of road far outnumber the downhill easy-to-maneuver stretches of road when you’re feeling tired? Not only that but why are there no flat stretches of road at the end of your route – they all looked flat on the map! I have to admit that I forgot all about that when I saw the little tea wagon parked at the junction ahead. Hot drinks! Manna from Heaven! Wagon Wheels! It was time for a break so I queued up with the other walkers and tourists and treated the team to a hot, tasty beverage to fortify us for the home stretch we were about to face. Although I have to admit that I am not a tea drinker by nature, I will say that the cup of tea I enjoyed from that little tea wagon six miles from the conclusion of our walk was probably the best I’d ever had! (The more daring members of the Team also treated themselves to cheeseburgers but I am afraid that I wasn’t that brave…)

It was here, though, that we encountered the most surreal element of our walk – no matter how fast we walked, we didn’t seem to trim any distance off our journey. The sign at the junction read “Ingleton – 6 Miles” and we marched off down the road, singing songs and ignoring aches and pains. For a solid hour we walked only to be confronted by a stone marker by the side of the road that said that Ingleton was still six miles away. We continued on, up and up the road (there didn’t seem to be very much down, remember…) and finally, Dave’s GPS reading confirmed that there was only three miles to go. Actually, it said that we had 4.82802 kilometers to go but the rest of this tale has been told in miles so I thought I’d stick with the old fashioned measuring system.

Then it was two miles and then one and finally, after just over twelve hours, the rooftops of Ingleton came into sight. We had almost reached our goal and it felt amazing. At that moment, the Tourist Information Center car park where we’d parked up all those hours ago seemed like the most beautiful place in the world.

To sum it all up, to put into words what we’d gotten out of the day, eight friends got together and made a difference. We did it with the purest of intentions, to offer a helping hand to those who needed it, and we succeeded. Before the walk even started, the generosity of those to whom we’d told the story astounded us. With the walk complete, I think we’d astounded ourselves. Now I just have to think about what we’ll do next…