Tomorrow I set off to walk 200km, carrying everything I need, not yet knowing where I’ll sleep each night, and I’ll be honest, I’ve never been so scared.
All day I’ve felt sick and jittery, tearful even, terrified of what I’m about to do. And yet I don’t want to not do it. I know I could just pull out, stay by the beach, read, write. But as well as being petrified of the unknown, of my own fragilities and incapabilities, I want to do this, I think I need to do this.
I’ve packed my rucksack, unpacked and repacked it just to make sure I have everything. It’s so heavy I can’t lift it onto my back without balancing it on something waist high. It feels like some kind of parasite that’s going to feed off me and take all my strength, so I’m going to have to work hard to get used to it and not let it take me down.
If you look at the photo of the stuff that’s gone in it note the small floral square, that’s ALL my clothes for 10 days. The rest is going to either stop me dying or crying and can’t do without any of it.
Things to note when I took this photo I forgot I also need a mallet (brilliant, another really heavy thing) and a hairbrush. I’m toying with not taking the hairbrush.
And so, as the sun sets here, I get ready for my last night in the campervan, tomorrow I’ll be up before dawn for my last shower and walking by 7am.
I have no idea if I’m mad to be doing this, only time will tell.
A friend told me to ‘walk towards the fear, that way the magic lies’, and it made me feel slightly more courageous and slightly more excited. Send me your good vibes people, I think I might need them.