Hello There!
Before putting finger to keyboard I asked around to check if blogs are still a thing in a world of reels, stories, pods and 'Toks. The feedback was that yes, apparently blogs are not pining for the fjords and are definitely not ex-blogs. So here goes. Oh, and for any new readers, grab a drink, I tend to meander a bit but hopefully there's an arc of a thread in there somewhere.
Today we have a tale of two adventures. One seemingly a lot simpler and safer than the other but, as it turned out, just as adventurous.
On a lovely Sunday in March (a.k.a. yesterday as I type this); the rest of the family were elsewhere and I decided it was time to complete a walk I'd been hoping to do for a long time. Roughly based on this one from Paul Sharkey. Thank you Paul, great route.
All proper prep was done. Route tracked on Ordnance Survey app, a paper map in the rucksack. Weather forecast predicted strong winds on the higher levels so the bag included trousers, hat and gloves along with a windproof jacket just in case. Food-wise, I had my go-to walking lunch: a Tesco meal deal along with an apple, a filled soft flask, and plenty of Haribo and Kendal Mint Cake. After a recent cash-only café encounter, I made sure to bring some change. A bit like reading blogs, it turns out, old-school money is still handy outside of town!
Fully prepped, me and the dog load the car and set off to Far Sawrey Village Hall.
Now let's rewind another 24 hours to Saturday evening. It had been a busy day and Maggie needed a walk. Although she always likes to stretch her legs properly, I knew tomorrow was promising 10 uppy-downy miles so I was happy to make it a short one after hers and my tea. My food was some lovely left-over filled potatoes from the night before and a small bowl of apple crumble and custard. As always with my carb-counting it was a bit sketchy and I bolused away.* I'm fortunate to have some of the most advanced diabetes kit attached to me 24/7. This means my inputs are a lot more limited than they used to be and my opportunities to mess up my continual science experiment are also reduced. At this point my, always-flaky short-term memory didn't remember that a walk was planned for after I'd eaten. If it had I probably would have either reduced the insulin significantly or not bolused until I got back. For those who like to watch TV dramas constantly guessing what's going to happen next, you're probably thinking along the right lines.
*Tech diabetes term - a bolus is a dose of short-acting insulin that is used to counteract the carbohydrates in food to prevent blood sugars rising to dangerous levels. Happy to give anyone a Diabetes 101 if this new to you; drop me a line
Back to the walk.
The day was looking wonderful. After just over a mile we dropped down towards Lake Windermere.
It being Mothering Sunday, there were lots of families out and about and a nice atmosphere was in the air. Once we got to the shoreline Maggie continuously bobbed in and out of the lake hoping I'd throw something in for her to chase. Her excitement reached a peak when she found a tennis ball but my refusal to throw it meant she dropped it eventually. Also today I was trying out some new trail running trainers. So occasionally the walk turned into a jog to lift the pace a little. Quite enjoyed these parts and it helped to give some added variety to the outing.
After a while we went up from the lake and looped around Wray Castle. Stopped for a lovely coffee and enjoyed the view from the terrace. While there, entertainment was provided by mums being spoiled rotten on their special day with tired, hungry kids wanting to be anywhere else than in one of the most beautiful places in the world. It was a heart-warming sight. 😁
After the coffee we dropped down to the lakeside again where I repeatedly threw a stick into the lake for the hound to swim for and bring back while I munched on lunch. Everyone was happy.
Next was the climb up to Latterbarrow. An elevation change of 660ft in just over a mile. Now I'm not claiming it to be bigger than it was, but there was no running involved in this section. Actually that's a lie. I thought I'd give it a go but after about 20 metres I understood I like enjoying the view on the way up and to save my speed for the flat sections, or on the way down.
The summit was lovely. For the first time since I'd reached the side of the lake, my sweatshirt went back on. It was definitely not hat or gloves worthy but there was a small breeze to give a slight chill in the air. There was one other couple on the top who left soon after we arrived. Reward for the peak was an apple and a smug nod that I was doing well
.
The descent down from here was a little less obvious but the paths were fairly clear so I wasn't too concerned with the map checking. Though occasional phone glimpses ensured I was going the right way.
Now's a good time to return to Saturday evening.
It was starting to get dark when we left. For this reason we kept off the canal and headed over the bridge down the hill. Street lights aplenty and, as it's a residential area, there's a park where Maggie can have a quick run off-lead. We're now getting towards the furthest point in the walk.
As we descended my original planned route went straight on then right. The map also gave an option of right then left to get me to the same opposite point of a virtual rectangle. Follow the route Dave. Onward!
Soon after this point my 'onward' should have been 'stop and check the map'. As the path wasn't the most obvious at that point I had missed the Right Turn Clyde. I proceeded on, although I did think the path more resembled a stream than a formal route now. And then I checked the map.
Meanwhile back on the dog walk I could start to feel my bloods drop. About two thirds of a mile from home, insulin was on board but I knew I had three small bags of Haribo in my pocket. One was opened and consumed in a single gulp. So I'm in a slightly tricky situation but good planning has meant I've got a way out safely. Erm, we'll come back to that.
The terrain now was obviously not an approved route. So it was time to decide the best course of action. Retrace steps to find the missed turn and crack on. Or make a sharp right, up a gulley, over some felled trees and towards where I should have been by now. It won't be that hard. And the slope up isn't that steep.
Approaching the top of the rise I can hear Laura in my head. Asking why we've carried on when the most sensible thing to do was admit our mistake and go backwards? But onwards. GPS is telling me I'm only about 50 metres from the correct path. You'll be OK Dave. It can be that hard.
As I descend on the path at the far end of the small park, co-ordination of limbs is starting to go a little. Not quite at dad-dancing stage yet but it's getting close. Remembering the small bags of sweets in my coat pocket I fish around for the second of them as I reach the bottom of a small slope. However, the pocket also contains one glove, the other is on my left hand, and a stream of rapidly-untangling dog poop bags. Eventually one bag, of the sweetie variety, is extracted and I start to try to open it. This is getting harder to co-ordinate but I manage it eventually.
Meanwhile 18 hours later, at the top of the slope the terrain is changing. Along with felled trees, we now have bramble and numerous very low hanging branches. Now I'm not saying this is comparable to Rat Jaw, and that I can be put alongside Jasmin Paris, Damien Hall and John Kelly, but my legs are getting absolutely shredded. (*If the references in the last sentence make absolutely no sense to you, I suggest you read/watch about the human machines that attempt the madness that is The Barkley Marathons and the massive achievement by Jasmin last year.)
To add to the Saturday evening picture, don't forget the reason I was walking in the first place. I've got the lead and somehow my left hand has a vice like grip on it. To make life easier I try to clip it to my belt, which is a 2 second task, but that's just not achievable so it stays in my hand.
Although there's a lot of fuzz going on, I know that trying to get down on the ground will be my safest option. Legs are no longer taking me in any meaningful direction and, in reality, I've got no idea which way I should try to go anyway, even though I've walked these streets hundreds of times. Now if you've been fortunate enough never to experience a bad hypo, it's hard to explain what it's like. A comparison is blind drunkeness but with even less co-ordination. And the visuals are very similar too; which we'll come to in a second. So I wanted to get sat on the ground and wait for the sugar to kick in. Even in this state I know it will. Well more hoping than knowing, but the wish is there. However once I'm on the ground my limbs are still flying in all directions so that's not working either. Hypo-brain is still in overdrive, so maybe if I start to walk, it will be OK?
On the trail, or off the trail I should say, I can't see the path but I sense I must be close. A clue to this is a family chatting as they stroll through. Enjoying their family day and no complaining going on either. But now I don't want to move until they are well past. I'm not sure I would appear at my finest emerging from the undergrowth. Think Tom Hanks in Castaway. So I maintain my position for a minute hoping to not scare or worry anyone.
To prove my point, starting to walk didn't turn out so well the night before. It was now fairly dark and not many people around. However, just as I topple onto some shrubbery in someone's front garden, a lady walks past with her dog. To describe her would be impossible, as although it was a well lit area my vision was not great. I think her hair colour matched her dog's but that could be complete fiction. She nervously asked if I was OK. Obviously I was unable to stand, or indeed sit, and yet I still just said "Yeah, I'm OK" as if climbing out of a bush with no muscle control was perfectly normal. I am confident her mind was wondering why a drunk man was walking his dog in this quiet suburb late at night and who'd trusted the dog with him. It wasn't an unreasonable question to someone without the full facts.
The walkers had now passed, out of earshot, and a check of the map confirmed I just need to go as straight as I can and I would soon be on the correct path again. To be fair to Maggie she'd also foraged her way through the undergrowth and hadn't abandoned me. There's a pattern here. Bless her! While this is going on, there are obvious regrets about choices made. But throwing realisation of stupidity onto the physical pain was helping no-one.
I slowly made my way out of the trees and space to walk freely was available again. A quick check around to make sure I'd emerged unseen, and we were off at speed.
As an illustration of both direction and slow pace I now present my Garmin data for that section of the walk.
By some miracle, comprehension was starting to return slowly. The fast acting carbs were obviously kicking in and I emerged onto a road that looked more like one I should be on to get home. I still didn't have full understanding of where I was, but there was enough recognition to know I was going in the right direction. I was also able to open the third and final small packet of Mini Strawbs. Better late than never I suppose. And then the brain starts to process what has happened and the guilt and self-judgement arrives by the bucket load. As I got to within a hundred metres of home everything was clicking into place and the sense of vulnerability arrived like a dumper truck. The final walk home went as quickly as it could. The brain starts to work at pace now. As well as the complete loss of dignity with someone who I don't think I know, I'm also missing a glove; I like those gloves!
Coming home for the final three miles was a breeze. Mostly downhill with very obvious paths to follow.
Speed picked up again and we made it to a celebratory cider with 10 miles done in 3hrs 10 mins. A chance to refresh and admire the scars of victory. (Stats on Strava if you're into that kind of thing)
So what was learnt from the two errors within 18 hours?
1: Even with the best prep, you'll still find a way to mess up. It's inevitable. Accept it.
2: Don't bolus for food before a relatively low carb meal just before a walk. Let the 780G do the correcting and stay safe.
3: If you've gone in the wrong direction, turn around and find the easiest way back to the correct route.
4: If someone asks if you're OK, they are probably trying to be kind and not judging. Be honest and ask for help.
The more important question is whether these learning opportunities will be heeded and followed. The answer to that is I'm honestly not sure. Probably, but until I'm in those situations again who knows.
Before I finish off, thank you for getting this far. You've done well! I know it must have felt like climbing through a bramble with no obvious directions at times!
I hope I've managed to put into words what a pretty bad low blood sugar feels like for me. And if you also have a dodgy pancreas, I hope you think I've done a good job of it too.
So, yes, blogs still exist. And apparently, so do I, despite my best attempts! Maybe I'll write again before another five years pass. Or maybe I'll just stick to Instagram and dog pics. Either way, see you out there.
Comments
Post a Comment