{"id":1331,"date":"2018-03-28T00:01:31","date_gmt":"2018-03-27T13:01:31","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/julesforth.com\/walkingtheblackdog\/?p=1331"},"modified":"2018-03-28T22:31:31","modified_gmt":"2018-03-28T11:31:31","slug":"day-24","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/julesforth.com\/walkingtheblackdog\/day-24\/","title":{"rendered":"Day 24"},"content":{"rendered":"

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From:\u00a0<\/strong>Castle Cary to Beckington
\nDistance:\u00a0<\/strong>17m \/ 27.2km
\nCumulated distance: <\/strong>305.2m \/ 491km
\nPercentage completed:\u00a0<\/strong>29.68<\/p>\n

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Yesterday morning, for the first time on the walk, my body talked to me. Very loudly, very clearly: ‘don’t get up; don’t leave this warm, snuggly bed’. I was really tired and the thought of 17 miles walking was daunting. I was staying in the most comfortable, most beautiful B&B, in one of England’s prettiest villages .. ‘why leave?’.<\/p>\n

I’d had a good meal the evening before at The George in Castle Cary’s main street. Walking back afterwards to my bed, all the shop windows were lit up, showing off their wares for Easter. It was delicious window shopping.<\/p>\n

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Easter windows<\/p><\/div>\n

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I took out the map to try and make sense of the journey ahead. It looked very long and windy if I were to follow just the Macmillan Way, as I’d planned over a year ago. I clearly had a very optimistic view of my capabilities then. I was helped .. well hindered really, by Coriander, one of the house cats.<\/p>\n

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Coriander telling me it was time to go to bed. This was a princess’s bed .. Eugenie had laid her red head here when she went to Glasto<\/p><\/div>\n

Dragging myself away from Cary Place\u00a0http:\/\/www.caryplace.co.uk\u00a0<\/a>I started the walk up the street, away from Castle Cary.\u00a0During Glastonbury Music Festival, Castle Cary is a madhouse, being the closest town to the festival with a train station.<\/span> On my way up the street I came across a house which had a plaque on the wall commemorating Douglas Macmillan, after whom the walk is named.<\/p>\n

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Should have been an auspicious start to the day<\/p><\/div>\n

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Pastel sort of day<\/p><\/div>\n

The early part of the day featured lovely tracks over an undulating landscape. The sun came in and out and there was a lot of livestock to be seen .. much of it young, which was uplifting. There were definite signs of spring emerging.<\/p>\n

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Fruit trees growing in a very tidy orchard<\/p><\/div>\n

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Spring catkins<\/p><\/div>\n

The little hamlet of Honeywick was very aptly named, with golden cottages which made me think I was already entering the Cotswolds.<\/p>\n

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Honeywick house<\/p><\/div>\n

I enjoyed the walk to Bruton, the\u00a0beautiful small Somerset town. It’s set in verdant countryside but despite its sleepy demeanour it\u2019s actually the home of Hauser and Wirth Contemporary Art Gallery, an internationally acclaimed centre for the arts. Outside the converted barn gallery in the courtyard is a sculpture of a super-sized bucket .. when I say super-sized, I mean double storey height! Fabulous.<\/span><\/p>\n

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Hauser and Wirth’s Big Bucket<\/p><\/div>\n

The walk from Bruton to Little Bradley Wood was predominantly forest, without sign of habitation. Before I stepped into their moodiness I had to walk through a small-holding with its few animals.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

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Don’t think they realised they were co-habiting ..<\/p><\/div>\n

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.. nor knew they were living opposite this beasty<\/p><\/div>\n

I did a little road walking to cover a few miles quickly and from there saw Alfred’s Tower on the horizon, above the woods. It’s a folly at Stourhead Park and is visible for miles around. Henry Hoare planned the tower to commemorate the end of the Seven Years’ War against France. It’s located close to ‘Egbert’s Stone’, where Alfred the Great (he of the burnt cakes), rallied the Saxons in May 878 before the Battle of Edington. A plane flew into it in 1944, tragically killing 5 men. But it’s been restored and looks amazing, with it’s statue of Alfred.<\/p>\n

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Alfred’s Tower<\/p><\/div>\n

There was so much to see and discover along the way, but as the day wore on I have to say I became more and more bogged down by the number of miles still to be covered. The forest floor was very uneven and my progress was horribly slow.<\/p>\n

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Stiles along the route<\/p><\/div>\n

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Great Bradley Wood<\/p><\/div>\n

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Trunks<\/p><\/div>\n

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Logging<\/p><\/div>\n

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Up close<\/p><\/div>\n

The Macmillan Way takes a route way west of Frome, the main town in the area. I can see why it does that .. it leads you through\u00a0Nunney, a picturesque village with a picturesque moated castle. But by the time I had reached Nutty Coppice Farm, I was starting to feel a bit nutty myself and decided to make my way through Frome, using quieter B roads and cutting off some distance. I began to feel I was never, ever going to get to Beckington. With wet feet I’d developed a whacking great blister and the pounding across uneven ground in the woods had left both soles of my feet feeling bruised.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

When you get this tired or down, nothing seems to help, other than stopping. And the demons in your head take the opportunity to slide through the cracks and start all the negative chat .. ‘you’ll never make it .. why did you even start .. go on, get a taxi ..’. I remember Ivan Ivanisovic talking about his tennis, when he was going through a low patch. He talked about the ‘good Ivan’ sitting on one of his shoulders and the ‘bad Ivan’ perched on the other. He said they would talk incessantly when he was battling, completely exhausting him. That’s how it felt yesterday.<\/p>\n

I was thinking back to how I talked about ‘digging in’ during the walk to Hartland Quay, when I found myself in a tricky spot on the top of a cliff. I think it was Day 12. It was true .. I did need to dig deep to get myself through a scary situation. But half an hour later I’d descended off the cliff to the hotel and in truth, felt quite pleased with myself. But this sort of longer term digging in is SO much more difficult. This morning, on my rest day, I should be feeling so much better .. but ‘bad Jules’ is doing her best to convince me to throw in the towel. I doubt I will but she’s pretty convincing.<\/p>\n

Gentle reader, please don’t think this is a plea for sympathy .. I think in other circumstances I would not even have spoken about it. But this walk is not only a physical adventure, it is also one of the mind and one of the points of Walking The Black Dog is to raise awareness of mental health issues. I’m convinced that frankness is one of the keys to helping.<\/p>\n

Black Dog Tails<\/strong>
\n<\/span>Gandalf used his magical powers to sniff out a lost boy scout in USA. What a hero!<\/span><\/p>\n

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Yesterday morning, for the first time on the walk, my body talked to me.<\/p>\n

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