I always enjoy Greenbelt Festival, especially now it's on the new site. The walk down from the car park into the fields. Setting up the tent. Making tea in the mornings and using the spare water to wash over a bowl. Everything gets pared down to the essentials. Life becomes very straightforward, just for a few days.
This year was unusual - I had company! My usual festival buddy hasn't been able to camp for the last few years, so I've come by myself. But this year I was volunteering in the on-site cafe (basically trying to get a cheap holiday in the wake of purchasing and trying to do up a house!) Some friends did the same thing and so we all camped together. They even brought a gazebo with them to use a social space, complete with a two-seater sofa! While I'm not sure it quite fit in with the idea of paring down your life, I have to admit it was pretty funny carrying it across a field and was very comfy to sit on. I stand by it for the entertainment value alone!
That volunteering was tough but made worthwhile by a great team. I had a 6 hour shift every day serving customers, taking orders for hot drinks, running the tills - all on my feet. My time working in Greggs came back to me; the customer voice, the undying smile, the tolerance, how to get people to hand you their money at the right time. I tried to sit down as often as I could, but combined with walking across the site it was a bit tricky.
We were lucky with the weather again, and as usual I spent a lot of time at the Grove with the Forest church. I admired a hand made shepherds hut, listened to musical comedy, prayed the four winds, learned about the feminine names of God, rocked out to some nineties nostalgia, learned about the Vagina Museum (I kinda want to go!), I shared communion carnival style, I spoke to a man who carved wood using a handmade pedal-lathe, I worked in the cafe and used the Forest Church contemplations to bracket my work days in a way I never do at home, I listened to one guitar be played like five instruments by one man, I took part in my first silent disco, I made a sculpture sing. And on the last night, when I was supposed to be driving home in order to get to work the following day, instead I found myself singing raucous kareoke with a crowd of other stragglers, all of us being led by a musical comedian and one of the singers from Pussy Riot.
.
And from one magical place to another, the following week I headed up to the Peak District to take part in a 25k trek for charity... Yet more athletic tape.
This was my mum's idea - she loves a challenge!- and my dad signed up too. It was an organised event by TrekFest, who mark the route and set up a base with food and camping space for those who wanted it. We were raising money for various charities, and some people were even doing a 50k walk, which can take 12-14 hours to complete! So theoretically it should take up between 6 and 7 hours to finish.
Even though I jog 5k at least once a week I couldn't quite get my head around the idea of walking five times as far in the hills. But I was interested to know what I could do.
There was one problem, however... I didn't have my walking boots. They were meant to be brought from my parents house, but somehow there had been a mix-up and they'd brought my brother's instead. I am a size 6. He is a 9.
But there was no Plan B, so my support tape now got used liberally on both feet to ward against blisters, and I wore all the spare socks I could, three pairs in total. And hoped that would be enough.
We hit a great day with the weather, warm and sunny but with a bit of a breeze so I opted to do the whole day in a base layer Tshirt and leggings rather than sturdier trousers. I tend to run hot anyway.
Although both my parents were also doing the walk, we agreed to go at our own paces. As it turned out, I was pulling ahead by the time our group reached the end of the drive! We had great weather, and as several hundred of us left the base and marched out onto the trail, we began to string out as we each found our own stride.
Leaving Hope village, we headed east and then made a sharp turn to skirt along the side of Ladybower reservoir. By this point I was overtaking slower walkers from the group ahead of us, and finding people to keep pace with. You found yourself hovering within a strata of walkers, passing the same faces as people stopped and started for drinks, photos, but we were also spread out enough at this point that you could have been walking by yourself.
Up a short sharp incline through some oppressively close woods, and then we popped out onto the edge of Crookstone Out Moor. This was one of my favourite sections to walk along. High and open, on a beautiful day, and with not too much upping and downing as you crossed the hill. You could just get into your stride and enjoy the view. And what a view it was!
This was a fifteen kilometre section with no checkpoints, so we were very much left to our own devices. At one point, feet aching as they tried to deal with the unfamiliar shoes, I hit a sudden wall of melancholy. It was just suddenly all very hard, and not much fun. Fortunately I know that wall well enough that it was easy to fix - I just needed to sit down for five minutes and have a sandwich!
The second checkpoint came on us quite suddenly as we passed through a village. I'll be honest, my feet were killing me at this point, and I knew from the map that the one remaining climb was one of the steepest of the day. I decided to take ten minutes to have a snack (I don't eat much when I'm out and about), rest my feet, and steel myself for the last section.
As I was resting, a woman walked into the checkpoint who I could have sworn overtook my a while before. It turned out that despite the arrows along the route, and the maps we all had with up, she'd got lost! Some cyclists had pointed her back to the correct path. To make sure it didn't happen again, we agreed to walk out together for the last section, which turned out to be a a few slightly tricky lane navigations, and then a straight clear path up to Hollin's Cross on Mam Tor. Check out that view!
At the top, I was caught on camera by the TrekFest photographer. Not in a flattering pose, but certainly an accurate one, happily hugging the marker at the top of the hill.
And then it was back down again, at a light jog to make the most of the gravity, and a suprisingly gruelling march on concrete along the road back to Hope and the base camp. That was the part where I really had to push myself to keep the pace up. I really wanted to come in under the 6 hour mark and I had no idea where I was in terms of time, but a few minutes could make the difference.
As you came back into the pen at base camp, I was delighted to hear my name called as my tracker chip was registered as having returned. I was handed a medal, a finishers Tshirt, and a glass of warm champagne that tasted absolutely amazing. And my time? 5 hours 39 minutes and 52 seconds.
After a drink and a rest I hauled myself up to do some stretches, grab a shower at the campsite, and cheer in the other walkers as I waited. And two hours later, coming in at 7 hrs 15 minutes...
And now I really do have to rest that foot.
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