Thank you for visiting my fundraising page. It was going to chart my journey from Southern Spain to Central France with two horses and my greyhound Ella. Due to injury and weather we decided to leave from the Dordogne (where horses are too expensive) and head south until we reached the sea - a journey called South On Foot Pushing A Stolen Supermarket Trolley. By the time Donkey Oatie came to save me from life on the run, it was too late to change the name to Have Ass, Will Walk, so, please enjoy North By Horse.

This site is just one very long page, so please keep scrolling down to read about our adventures on the road and to see your donation.

PHONE NUMBER: +44 7957 228 430
E-mail: northbyhorse@aol.com

Please send an e-mail stating in the SUBJECT heading that you would like to be 'added' or 'removed' from the mailing list, or to receive 'old news'. For those of you who should have been removed, please accept my apologies. It all has to be done by hand and isn't always that efficient. I have suggested that the Justgiving address book should store alphabetically.

I chose to raise money for MSF because they recognise the irony of saving lives in a war. Unlike the Red Cross MSF will act outside of state sanctions and publicise the atrocities they discover. This advocacy is crucial for long-term stability and sustainable solutions - as well as helping the people whose lives they save to stay alive for longer.

LATEST ADVENTURE LOOKING FOR A NEW MANAGER

Once Oatie and the cart were untangled and I'd wrenched things roughly back into shape, I began to look for a place to camp. We walked round the almost island that the river Lot oxbows out of Luzech, for about 40 minutes. There was a perfect spot, but we were told not to camp on it, which, along with exhaustion, too much coffee and not enough food, put me in a very horrid temper indeed. Oatie chose this as his moment of protest.

 "Listen baby, I've got to be in shape for my performance. I need to look, spoilt and, well decadent. Yeah, that's what the fans like. So let's just forget the cart business, ok? It's giving me an achey shoulder now it's a MANGLED USELESS MESS."

"It's getting dark, we need to hurry up and find somewhere. Just pull the cart."

"I think I'll slow down then."

"Hurry up!"

 "Actually I think I'll stop. Yeah. Got any weeds?"

 "GET GOING NOW!" I ranted, menacing him with the end of his lead. We settled on an amble. I tried to peer into the landscape around us, but only the pale glow of the chalk soil and the black web of vines were visible. I knew that somewhere would be a lush sheltered corner, next to the river providing water nearby, but it was too dark to search.

We passed a tiny church that for some reason I spurned, and eventually bedded down near some trees and weeds, on sandy soil that probably bred thousands of things that bite. It was early, but I laid out Oatie's saddle packing in preparation for bed.

"Hey! Watch what you're doing with that jacket ok." (It was the only time he broke his sulk.) And the sleeping bag, which Ella thanked me for and stretched out on. Barely able to undress I was so tired, I shifted Ella, who then curled round my arm.

Somewhere in the distance a party was thumping. I thought about crashing it and went to sleep. I woke a couple of times as cars went by and admired the stars - so gorgeous I wanted to thank them all.

"Ooooooh! Regard ça!"

"Yip yip, yip." They were both tiny. "GGGGGRRRRRRR." Ok, vertically challenged!

She must have had dementia, and in that filtered state had perfectly absorbed all the gory horror of the gutter press. She reeled off stories of murders and dangers and all the terrible people in her life and what the magazines said and the evil she knew was out there because it was on TV. She didn't even mention the war. I tried to explain that all the statistics show that attacks on strangers are almost unknown, that I have a dog, that most rapes are committed by a person known to the victim, that you would have to be completely psychotic to come upon someone in a field and, on the spur of the moment, do something vile to them. This wasn't a woman open to reason. The fear mongers had got her. I reckoned there were more psychos in London than Luzech - but gave her a wide berth all the same.

My experience has always been that people are staggeringly kind to strangers. Stay longer and things might get a bit 'Dogville' round the edges. Every time I left somewhere, even somewhere really nice, there was a feeling of elation - the fitness high as I got going, perhaps. The freedom of hitting the open road was intoxicating. It wasn't just freedom, though, but a sense of actually escaping. She wasn't a great start to the third week, but the day was about to get very, very much better.

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For those of you who weren't able to join us, either on foot or horseback, please do the next best thing. Donating through this site is simple, fast and totally secure. It is also the most efficient way to sponsor me. Médecins Sans Frontières UK will receive your money faster and, if you are a UK taxpayer, an extra 28% in tax will be added to your gift at no cost to you. Many thanks for your support. It'll only take a moment. Do it now.

SOME PREVIOUS ADVENTURES

So we headed out of Catus, waving goodbye to the lovely people who'd fed and welcomed us there, and began to climb what I came to call Big Truck Hill. It was a gorgeous little winding road, lined with the blackest oaks with the greenest leaves against the bluest sky, and not even tooooo steep. Oatie and the cart seemed to be getting along just fine. Until the first Big Truck. Oatie´s a fast learner, by Big Truck number five he was waggling his ears and shouting "Bring it on!" The trucks were all going about their business laden with empty pallets... because they were coming from a pallets factory. It was like finding where all the biros go.

The next two days walking and camping went well. Then we had another hot day. Ella was not coping. Luckily we'd left very early and were able to rest between the river Lot and the beautiful Chateau Caix, for the heat of the day. Earth Mother Janet had given me some delicious orange chocolate, which had become a gooey mess into which I dipped biscuits - one of the best meals of the journey. I was contemplating my good fortune in the shade of some vines, looking at the stacked crates of bottles outside the chateau, when suddenly it came to me in a flash: the cart needed a crate, an Ella crate. Problem solved. Well, in theory anyway.

We got to Luzech at 6ish, to find, on a Friday afternoon, EVERYTHING was closed, even the little café where I last ordered a coffee and an ice lolly. The ice lolly was for the owner's son who was crying. He was crying because Oatie had just slooped the whole of the boy's last lolly off its stick! Then the cart tipped over. I phoned the plumber who'd constructed the harness to tell him that one of the pipes had burst, but he wasn't taking my calls. Typical.

LOOKING AFTER YOURSELF.

I found a sack of horse food which made Oarie gleam like anything. I simply could not believe the difference. The timing was good because he had many, many admirers in Catus. Whole families would come to visit him after their dinner, with fathers eulogising about the donkeys of their youth. An ass is a humble beast and this has been essential to the success of the trip. You are accessible with a donkey, just as you are 'too high up' on a horse. Everyone commented on how well padded and shiny Oatie looked, which made me gleam too. Catus had sheltered me but it was absolutely time to get going. Some cheap walking boots strengthened my resolve. They were a huge improvement on my trendy trainers, at least, they would be once warn in... I decided to go that night! La!

I went to the lovely little cafe again, and asked people about various roads and villages. This stopped because I didn't want to advertise my route to a horribly drunk man who radiated misery and anger. He was Portuguese, working as a fruit picker, and kept bellowing out a vile 'song' in barely inteligable French about how he'd become "un con, un con!" and finally the meaning filtered through; he´d become "un con" since his wife had died. It is only luck that protects most of us. What terrible broken lives some people are branded with - and how they can burn us with them... It made me cherish and respect even more two bereaved friends who held their love and pain with the greatest dignity. I had been miserable before leaving London, worse for being awful company too. I didn't see many people, and regretted the ones I had. The presence of death in one's life can make everything unbearably precarious. You want to go up to people and say "It's not ok." Would anything ever heal that man? Would anyone ever have the time and resources to try and help? Could he really wake up one day and decide that things were actually ok enough to leave the drink and drugs alone and be civil. Why should he? To make us feel better? His wife was dead. Nothing was ok.

This is one of the many things I do not like about the concept of a god. The human race will construct the most extraordinarily elaborate fantasies to separate themselves from the chaos of the world. Any idea of god and good has implicit a concept of reward. A happy, productive life is the greatest piece of luck; it is not a reward. This is why the smug can be far more destructive than the threatening.

People who grieve with grace are so generous. People who hold any pain without becoming horrible deserve the greatest respect. And it's so hard not to attack the threatening. Cycles of fear propogate distress, so we distract ourselves with pleasures - but it's only a distraction. Very few people are actually capable of repairing a broken life, but when they do the good of it spreads out so far. I´ve only ever met one person like that, and she has worked with the condemned and the very hurt very young. She helps people carry the truths of their lives and be ok despite the most terrible burdens. She should be waited upon by the freshly in love. She explained that humans have no reason to be scary except being scared themselves - even when they're very mad. Being unafraid is so simple, but not always easy. There was no moon. I was tired and dispirited. I decided not to leave there and then, but I was uneasy about being in the tent too... the lost man had been hassling all the women, though for some reason he created a cordon of respect around me and publicly announced that I was ok. I didn't know if he'd gone or was still lurking and cursing about. I crept back to the café and my fear also smeared the evening. Nothing was said. They brought me hot chocolate. They were lovely people. There are so many lovely people, there is very little reason to be afraid.

NOTES FROM CATUS.

The plumber came and went. We had another existential conversation. He was obviously a perfectionist, and the perfectly balanced cart that he produced from the back of his van was a joy to behold... apart from the fact that it was completely useless when attached to the donkey. He was so crestfallen that I quoted Cohen at him ("the cracks are where the light gets in"). I was rather irritated that he hadn't followed my advice at all. Once the perfection of plan A was broken, he didn't seem to have any more interest in the cart/toy. It had already taken too much time for the 150EUR0, and there were boilers to fix. Plan B involved remodeling of plan A, which didn't´t look particularly sturdy. It'll be fine he reassured me, suddenly jumping onto the back of the cart like a Roman Charioteer and cracking an imaginary whip. Oatie clearly understood the mime and went off at a dainty trot, giving Steve far more of a ride than he expected. It seemed fitting as Oatie though the whole cart thing was a very long way from fine indeed.

 The following morning there was lots of clanging scaffolding and people arrived with horses in vans - a horse show was in the making. Before it got going, two North African workmen sat on the bridge having a chat an a coffee. Oatie was full of the glory of the day IN A BIG WAY, and unfurled his ahem, feelings. All 60 cm of them. I overheard one say to the other something along the lines of ohmygodlookatthesizeofthatdonkey´stodger.

"What do you expect" quipped his friend, "He´s black." They fell about laughing, which was wonderful, but stopped when they realized I was laughing too, which was sad.

That night at the little cafe, an enormous drunk and his friend dialed in two unbelievably skinny women. Later on there was much giggling and joy from the direction of the car park. At one point I could have sworn I heard him say that he wanted to ride the donkey. The thought of 200kg of drunken slob lolling around on Oatie, who needed to be resting for his next gig, was just too much. I sat guard, preparing various versions of "no" and "not on your life". Random horn beeps indicated that they were otherwise occupied, and once they'd sobered up, I figured that riding the donkey would lose its appeal. Even so, I waited until their car lights had swept the field and they roared away.

CLIMB THAT HILL! - Day 9

Ella and I wondered into town. At 10.00 it was hot already and she was panting. I got my 1 litre army gourd, with its large oval cup, and poured out some water for her. She wouldn't drink it all. I looked at the water, it looked back at me. It was one of those moments when a whole new level of camping enters your life: a watershed - but with dogspit. After this there would be no going back. I drank the water. I turned round and a classic grimy old Frenchman under a tree (complete with binder-twine belt) was watching me with an expression of horror on his face. Busted.

Everyone had told me about the hill out of Catus and I was dreading it. The problems that people consider insurmountable rarely unify, but every one of the oooh-nooo,-dear,-you´ll-never-make-it crowd had cited this hill. I decided to take a stand. It was Oatie´s turn to pull the cart. He was now completely used to it´s noises and nearness, but had worked out that stopping when I roped him to the cart meant that he didn´t have to pull it. However, there were various other technical problems to overcome first; a bit of welding and about six feet of bent tubing was needed before he could harnessed to his burden. The garage was up The Big Hill out of Catus. I stood at the bottom, already too hot, and decided to find out if it would actually be open first.

That's when I saw Bernard. I was very impressed by his trendy style: as mayor's uniforms go, a t-shirt with MARE on it was getting on for post-modern. Bernard was the engine of Catus. He was always everywhere and always full of life and quick, quirky comments that made people smile. Actually just passing him on the street was enough to make most people crack up to full beam. Bernard also had a big, empty truck, into which he quickly loaded the cart and Ella. At the top of the big hill (not The Big Hill, surely) was a rather pathetic mechanic. 'A plumber could do it! ' I said, in an attempt to shame him into taking on the job. Bernard nodded and made a call. We drove to another garage, which was getting on for what seemed like a very long way away. I started to get a bit nervous and texted our number plate to a friend. The owner of garage 2 was sick and couldn't do it either. Bernard knew everyone, including Stève the plumber, who he called again. Stève was rather lithe and gorgeous and much in demand. I spent quite a lot of time waiting for him to turn up with the cart. We had talked through various designs and I drew some up for him. He didn't want the drawings. He was confident. He was busy.

On one of my afternoons in Catus the police turned up. While camping on that field was not allowed, under the circumstances (Donkey Pass, Access All Areas), a short pitch was being overlooked. The only problem was my stay was getting to be on the four-day side of short. The policeman asked various questions about the trip and listened patiently while I explained that the vet would be giving Oatie his second round of vaccinations the following day. I also said that I was waiting for the plumber. With a face as straight as a wall he looked at the tent, let a beat of silence pass, looked back at me and said. "How long are you planning to stay?"

OUR SPONSORS Ricardo Gago, sculpter and painter... of Donkeys! and other things... www.ricardogago.com

CASA DE LAS PIEDRAS, Grazalema 956 132 014. An irresistable 10 euros a night. They were even willing to bend the rules and let the dog in. Thank you!

HOTEL COLON, Ronda, 952 870 218. SANDRA A. TOWNSEND, animal portraits. 01294 213 176.

HOTEL MURILLO, Seville. Fantastic, cheap, lovely people. 00 34 954 216 616, reservas@hotelmurillo.com. In the heart of Barrio Santa de Santa Cruz too.

SCOOBY MEDINA - for rescue greyhounds in Spain. Phone Fermin: 649 981 568 www.scoobymedina.com

INTERNET Y COMUNICACIONES - CIBERALCAZAR. Calle San Fernando 35, Seville. Good, cheap, fast, busy. www.ciberalcazar-shop.com

BAR-RESTAURANTE EL CAMPESTRE. Not only is this a wonderful place with authentic antiques and feel, but it is is a family run outfit, (5 gorgeous children and a wise father). They were utterly generous and welcoming to me, even helping to sort out a last minute transport crisis. They invited me to dine with them and it was one of the nices evenings of the whole trip. Ctra. National, 401 - km 177,800. 00 34 926 231 923. PERABILLO (Miguelturra) Ciudad Real.

LA BODEGA centro ecuestre. Well maintained livery stables. Ctra. De Orgaz (junto a la Estacion del Ferrocarril) 00 34 30 09 04. MORA (Toledo).

CASA ALOJAMIENTO RURAL "LOS LAURELES" - amazing hotel/ guest house, farm and queso makers who welcomed Oatie into their paddock with open arms and let me have a shower, oh bliss... amazing place for a holiday. Great food. Camino Tembleque, 12 URDA, TOLEDO. 00 34 925 474 050. www.telefonica.net/web/turismoloslaureles

BAR GOMEZ. Escuelas, 2. Consuegra (Toledo). Owned by Gomez. Sweet man who always helped out by giving me water and leftovers for the dog.. Nice no frills café, good, cheap food.

EL CRUCITO - bar in Manzaneque, great lunches.

 APARTHOTEL LAS NIEVES. Put Oatie up in their garden, even though I didn´t stay at the hotel. Lovely people. Carretera Mora de Toledo. Km. 7,200. Urb. Las Nieves. 00 34 925 278 819. 45191 NAMBROCA (Toledo).

RANCHO BOCALARROCA. Great treking and riding outfit in sight of the Pyrenees. Long treks catered for, as web as riding by the hour. 22580 BENABARRE. (Huesca) Espana. 00 34 974 543 565.

LOST AMIGOS BACKPACKERS HOSTEL MADRID. Great atmosphere and a nice young crowd to hang out with. Less than 20 euros for a shared room and breakfast. www.losamigoshostel.com. 00 34 91 559 24 72.

HOTEL EL COLOSO. Leganitos 13, Madrid 28013. Tel. 34 9154 87 64 0.

ESCUELA DE EQUITATION VAL DÁRAN - 973 64 22 44. Lots of healthy horses Café Bonansa - brilliant place to hang out, and slo contact Silvia Pons for their apartments to rent in this beautiful mountain village. JOHN & CHRISTINE - selling an utterly beautiful mansion Au Village in Villefranch. E-mail here if you´re interested.

CHRIS WILSON - photographer extrordinaire

CYBERBASE, central St Gaudains. An amazing space for young people and internet junkies alike. Excellent equipment and community initiative. Lovely bathroom too!

AUBERGE LE CEMALOUN. 31350 MONTMAURIN.

LE RELAIS DU PONT . Hotel, Bar, Restaurant. Really very good food at reasonable prices. Staffed/owned by a team of energetic and friendly people. Route National 'au pont' 32200 GIMONT . 05 62 67 06 60.

KEYNET CYBERCAFE - the best in the Gers...except on Mondays when it's closed. Otherwise full of very happy gamers. Extremely helpful people. 4 Rue D' Etigny - Auch. 05 62 61 89 23.

www.radio1075.com

www.dentaid.com

JAMES SANSON - illegible bachelor, available for blind dates, please send photos to this address. Yes I'm serious.

AUBERGE DE LA TOUR - amazing food and charming, helpful people. They gave me a lovely meal, despite my turning up wet and with a dog, and then let me use their computer. Not far from Cahors and in beautiful country. SAUZET 46140, TEL: 05 65 36 90 05. Rooms from 33 to 57 Euros.

BELLE EN BOURIANE - amazing little beauty salon just down from the stationers in Catus. Utterly wonderful woman with pampering in her hands. Rue du Pont. 46150 Catus. 00 33 (0)5 65 30 61 19.

CAFE DU LAC - great atmosphere at lovely lakeside cafe and restaurant in Catus.

PIZZA OPPOSITE CASINO IN GROLEJAC. Local atmosphere, excellent cook. LA

TAVERNE DU ROC - Face à Sport 2000, route de Bergerac - 24200 SARLAT. LA

TAVERNE DU WEB - 17 Avenue Gambetta, 24200 SARLAT. 05 53 29 48 23. Contact@lataverneduweb.com. Full of man children playing computer games. Charming. INTERNET 46 - 16. Rue du Majou, 46300 GOURDON. 00 33 (0) 5 65 41 34 26. Internet46@msn.com. They let me in to use the excellent and fast machines even when they were shut. Great music too!

ROUGH GUIDES - such good books; the detail to weight ratio is well managed for the serious traveler. www.roughguides.com. Amazing waterproof maps. FOREVER

GREEN GARDENS - Garden design & Maintenance. Rich Matthews: organised and helpful - and obviously loves the plants and Rebecca. 007799 198 719

CYBER KEB@B - 30 Rue de Verdun, Nantes. Greqt Kebabs, French keyboards... they cooked for the dog and were helpful, kind and patient.

Hotel LE RICHEBOURG - 16 Rue Richebourg, Nantes. Also dog friendly and really sweet woman owner. 02 40 74 08 32

HOTEL EUROPE, ST MALO - takes dogs.

SILVERMAN'S - WITH THE SAINTLY MALCOLM http://www.silvermans.co.uk/ All their gear is cheap and built to last in tough conditions. No frills site with good product info and NO HYPE!

CANINE SPIRIT - www.canine-spirit.com "Unleash the freedom." Practical, durable gear for the active and adventurous dog. Great waterproof bags too.

KITSCH COLLARS The ultimate in dog bling. www.kitschcollars.com

FONE DOCTOR Full of really smart people. Duke Street Hill, London SE1 2SW, 020 7378 0738. www.unlockingclinic.co.uk

LUXWAY Canine Supplies www.luxwaycanine.com, 01303 812 440. They have everything you could ever need in every colour and price range, as well as being friendly and offering good value advice.