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DIARY
ODYSSEY LOG - Week 5
Updated 31st October
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| Week Five: |
Chelmorton - Bacup |
Chelmorton to Lee Mills (diversion from intended Hayfield route to avoid livestock on open moorland)
Monday 17th September
Gill:
The Peak District. Dry stone walls, and old drove rodes. Windswept upland, and sudden valleys under limestone scars. A sense of riding across the roof of the world, with a near 360 degree view. A landscape where the tops are the real world and the valleys an aberration.
We're resting Kaan's back for a bit, and Clare Lyon's Amber, a chestnut Welsh x Arab mare, is doing the job. Jerry went home this morning, and with only two riders on this week, I'm in the saddle for the first time
for over a week.
We pick up where we left off yesterday at Chelmorton, and go across the tops on an old packhorse trail down into Millers Dale, where Richard has parked on a stone bridge, with anglers casting their flies into the fast-running stream underneath. Under the railway bridge and up the steep track, past a farm where three milk churns stand - surely symbolically - by the track, and impossibly big horse-shoes are lined up on the windowsill. We are on the Limestone Way, whose name surely gives a clue to its history.
We're close now to Loose Hill Farm, and Kaan, and across to the left I can see the stand of trees, whose brilliant floodlighting by last nght's setting sun made such a dramatic end to our day.
Amber is a lovely ride, with a mouth like silk, a lovely natural balance, and
generous, free-flowing paces that cove the ground almost as fast as Kaan
does. We're so lucky that Clare has been kind enough to lend her to us.
Lee Mills to Stalybridge
Tuesday 18th September
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Richard Gibson - The Driver's Tale:
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Horses to me have always been a bit like skis - something to be avoided at all costs, far too dangerous and uncontrollable. You might break something. I'll stick to mountaineering thank you - much safer - at least you can tie yourself on to something solid that doesn't move. up to now my only involvement with horses was with the losing variety at Towcester races. And Salisbury, Nottingham, Warwick, Wolverhampton...
I really don't know the difference between fetlocks and withers, and just hoped I didn't get kicked in one or the other, or both. Instead I learnt a few early lessons about horses:
- don't stand too close, or they stand on your feet (well, I learnt the lesson the 4th time);
- when they lift up their tail, get out of the way quickly;
- a head butt is a sign of affection.
Having just driven a support for some bike riders, I thought I knew something about driving support cars, but found the horse much easier:
- they don't get punctures or broken chains;
- they don't stop for pub lunches or cream teas;
- they don't do the downhill stretches at 40 mph.
This makes prediciting the ETA rendezvous times much easier. Well, it would have done if I hadn't been driving a campervan pulling a horse box up 1-in-4 hills on narrow country lanes. The previous time I double de-clutched wa on 26th April 1965, purely to impress the driving test examiner. If he had been with me now and asked me to reverse round a bend, or to do a 3-point turn, I would have failed ignominiously. reveresing wit ha trailer is something totally alien, and to be avoided at all costs. thus allstopping points have to be carefully planned to ensure an easy get-away - lay-bys 100 yards long are particularly useful, if non-existant.
Tomorrow is a rest day thank goodness - I think I'll go for a quick spin in my car!
Rest Day
Wednesday 19th September
Gill:
We're at Stalybridge, staying with Chris Booth. By an extraordinary
coincidence we met her sister yesterday when Richard, desperate for
somewhere to park Bertha (the caravan, which has a definite identity of her
own, has acquired the name Big Bertha somewhere along the way) at a
busy junction in the middle of the town, took refuge on the pavement
exactly outside her house. She had, of course, heard all about the Odyssey
from Chris, so one look at our psychedelic trailer told her exactly who had
washed up almost in her garden.
At last we've met Martha, who is to be the Official Odyssey
Photographer for the last ten days, as well as an ME rider. It's good to put
a face to the e-mails. She has brought with her some wonderful calendars
with Odyssey pics, to add to the list of goods for sale.
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Martha:
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Having spent a couple of days in London, coming round after my cousin's wedding (the stylish reception in a yurt with delicious food reflecting the Turkish origins of her husband) I set off to join the Odyssey. Packing for a trip encompassing a wedding (which necessitated the full trimmings of outfit, ribbon-endowed hat, high-heels, hair dryer and all) and a sponsored ride (which required boots, riding hat, jodhpurs, towel, sleeping bag, fleeces and all things warm) with the addition of all my camera equipment was quite a challenge. Trying to keep the weight within my own tote-able limit had pushed my rather random ME brain beyond the bounds of normal expectation. I recall coming across myself wandering around my Edinburgh flat at 1am (one of my "up" times) the night before I left with lipstick in one hand and thermal socks in the other. I'm still not entirely sure what I was up to, but as time progresses the flush of success is dwindling! It has become apparent that I could supply every woman in Yorkshire with clean knickers for a month, but if I do get the chance to mount a horse (let alone manage to trot for a while) my boobs will just have to go hang! At least I've been able to leave my wedding hat behind for my mother to leave behind in London (perhaps I can't blame all my forgetfulness on my ME fog after-all!).
To cut a very sweaty and wobbly story short, given enough time, some winsome smiles at the foot of the inevitable staircases and a fair amount of concentration and determination I made it to Euston and boarded my train. At Manchester, having decided not to race for the almost instantaneous connection, I realised just in time that the next train to Stalybridge left from an entirely different platform - over (of course) the bridge where (of course) the lift wasn't working. Still, I made it and wedged myself in a corner, balanced (or perhaps I should say unbalanced) against my (for once useful) mountain of luggage. A delightful businessman told me he was getting off at the next station at which point I could have his seat. Sadly, however, that next station turned out to be Stalybridge! Here, my journey worries were over - Richard, our fit driver and supporter for the week, kindly met me in his car and whisked me to the campervan, and the prancing Kaan. At the farmhouse I was plied with the perfect cup of tea before collapsing into bed in the van.
Stalybridge to Marsden
Thursday 20th September Martha:
As far as I was concerned, things got off to a marvellous start - Richard woke us up with another wonderful cuppa. Mind you, as an ME-er who lives alone, any hot drink which is made for me is, without a doubt, nectar and the provider thereof immediately gains a large number of Cub points! We surfaced gently, and eventually found we had fed, watered, groomed, bridled and boxed Kaan. On reaching the start-point for the day it emerged Kaan had unbridled himself but was soon ready to be led along the first stretch of disused railway line. In order to rest his slightly vulnerable back and in the absence of a borrowed horse, Kaan was led for most of the day, only mounted for a very short period of time. It was a grey sort of a day, though the rain of the night stayed away and there were occasionally enough patches of blue to cobble together an entire pair of sailor's trews. Not the most inspiring day for photography although I was unable to resist some shots of Nugget, a miniature Shetland pony quarter the size of his stable-mate Chequers before we left the farm. They were humorous side by side and Nugget reminded me more of a large-scale guinea pig with hooves than anything.
Campervan and Kaan played catch-up at approximately 2 mile intervals through New Mills, Green Fields, Delph, Grains Bar to Shaw. In Delph we were joined briefly by sisters Janice (from TYMES Trust) and Chris who brought us a most-welcome bag of doughnuts and directions to Chris and Andy's home where we were to stable and park-up for the next two nights. Given the steepness of the approach to their house above Marsden, we unboxed Kaan at the foot and he was ridden up. Richard made a valiant effort to gain the top of the rise in one run, but due to the fact that we aimed for a driveway just below the road we should have taken, the van proved recalcitrant and gave out a matter of feet too early. We were stuck!
As there were some tempting horses beside the road for Kaan to show off to, he was ridden to the stable. Before he'd trotted off into the dusk, however, a bevy of Yorkshiremen had gathered to aid, abet and advise in the extradition of our vehicle. While I rummaged around in the gloom of the trailer trying to gather some semblance of feed for Kaan in case stable and campervan ended up miles adrift, discussions continued about how to proceed. Eventually, Noel (Chris and Andy's neighbour) jumped in and, with trailer left resting against the nearest dry stone wall, proceeded to rescue us as, no doubt, he has rescued many a hapless visitor from a similar fate. A Landrover was fetched to tow the trailer and the land was cleared for traffic once more! Gill made Kaan comfortable and then, with help somehow clambered back up the 1in1 (or so it seemed to us ME-ers) incline from stable to house. There she slumped on the kitchen floor from where she could at least be sure she could fall no further. Chris and Andy plied us with much needed mugs of tea and delicious steaming plates of food while Richard, needlessly embarrassed by the capers, escaped to meet some friends of his in a local pub.
Gill:
We're at Stalybridge, staying with Chris Booth. By an extraordinary
coincidence we met her sister yesterday when Richard, desperate for
somewhere to park at a busy junction in the middle of the town, took
refuge on the pavement exactly outside her house. She had, of course,
heard all about the Odyssey from Chris, so one look at our psychedelic
trailer told her exactly who had washed up almost in her garden.
At last we've met Martha, who is to be the Official Odyssey
Photographer for the last ten days, as well as an ME rider. It's good to put
a face to the e-mails. She has brought with her some wonderful calendars
with Odyssey pics, to add to the list of goods for sale.
Universal gloom; we haven't found a replacement horse for today, so we set
ourselves a short distance to be done with some spells on foot and long
breaks. It's a long, slow day with few miles covered, but not all bad; I take
a long uphill spell in the saddle, sitting well back on the mound of padding
to take any pressure off the rubbed bits. The town of Delph unfolds below
us and panoramic views open out across the valley. At the top, I see the
opportunity for doing a bit extra; it's downhill from here so surely I can
walk a bit with the saddle right off? Not such a good idea; from the ground
I have difficulty in persuading a lonely Kaan to pass some horses in a field,
holding up the traffic while we discuss the issue. By the time we reach
Shaw at the bottom of the hill I am legless, so I climb on him bareback and
let him carry me the last half-mile to the welcome sanctuary of Bertha and
trailer.
Rest Day
Friday 21st September Martha:
We awoke to a heavy, dark, misty day with two gorgeous chunky horses and a pony in a field to our right and an astonishing view across the farms, mills, villages and valley. The order of the day was rest and recuperation and to try to find a way of proceeding on horseback without Kaan. Chris and Andy had set off early for their weekend down south and left Janice as our host. We were spoilt rotten with the use of the shower, hairdryer, kettle, washing machine, tumble dryer, sofas, TV, sockets for phone chargers and even beds that night! Richard trundled off by train to collect his car from Stalybridge and once Gill re-surfaced we started phoning round for possible sources of horses while Richard fetched fish and chips from Marsden.
Having never particularly wanted to seek out other people with ME, in reality I find that it tends to be an amazingly positive experience. We kept finding ourselves identifying and empathising with each other's histories and I have learnt more of what is known about the disease. I think I find it helpful now I am comfortable with my situation and have developed my own understanding of ME.
Gill:
Blissful comfort in the house of Andrew and Christine Staples, brother-in-
law and sister of Tymes Trust's Janice Benning. Janice was a delight to
meet yesterday - another person I feel I have known for years, although I
only met her face-to-face yesterday.
Hooray for the teapot, constantly on the go. One phone call after
another leads to a dead end; has nobody got a horse half-fit, or even shod,
this blighted year? In a fit of depression I look out across Marsden to
Saddleworth Moor, guardian of horrible secrets, and can't help thinking
how Todmorden, where we'll go next if we can find four legs to take us
there, is where the infamous Dr. Harold Shipman cut his medical teeth.
Rest Day
Saturday 22nd September Martha:
I slept and slept - crawling out for tea from beneath my misty brain into the black, misty day at about noon. Richard had bought The Times and I was relieved to find an article by my friend, a newly appointed full-time correspondent who has been posted in Islamabad since last week's terrorist attack on America. As long as she keeps on writing she must still be safe - although it's alarming that this article was from Quetta, where bin Laden supporters were threatening to attack all foreigners as US spies.
The phone calls seemed, at last, to be following a hotter trail and by the time countless more cups of tea, "breakfast" of croissants and "lunch" (not long after) of pizza, chocolate cake and cream had been consumed, we had a result! Peter and Muriel Moon, International Endurance riders, were willing to lend us their champion horse, Gedinski, for Sunday's stretch of the Odyssey. Peter would ride alongside on Ged's full brother (another endurance-trained horse) Danny Boy. We couldn't believe their kindness and trust or our luck.
Mac at the gate
As we waved goodbye to Chris and Andy's wonderful, lugubrious Bull Mastiff, Mac, we negotiated the corner now christened "Richard's Leap" and nursed the entourage down the worst of the hill before loading Kaan. We set off for Julia and Geoff Barnett's house and stables atop a hill above Todmorden. The mist had finally burnt off and our journey was packed with stunning views along with the, now familiar, unintentional "tourist" routes we seem to keep embarking on! Julia, Geoff and their four German Shepherds were warm and wary respectively on our arrival and Kaan couldn't have been happier when he was turned out into a secure paddock with three new horses nearby to show off to and lush grass at his hooves.
After our next fix of a cuppa, we set off by spectacular pink, glowing sunset in the campervan to meet the Moons in nearby Weir. They couldn't have been more friendly and welcoming. They were so willing to help - so unreservedly and at such short notice. We met the horses, saw some wonderful photos of them competing and planned our route for the following day. They said that Danny Boy's previous owner, who had died of breast cancer, would have been thrilled that he was participating in the Odyssey as she had ridden him in a sponsored endurance ride a year before. I think this helped to quell our guilt at imposing ourselves on them. Yet another welcome cup of tea later and back to Julia who, bless her heart, wouldn't hear of us sleeping in the van and showed us to our rooms! We didn't retire, however, until we had arranged sessions with the owner of one of Julia's livery horses - a healer with experience of working with people with ME.
Kaan at Julia's
Marsden, Todmorden to Bacup
Sunday 23rd September Gill:
Martha and I simply can't believe our good luck. Not just a horse, but
Gedinski, twice British Endurance Champion, is about to take us on the
next stage, through the generosity of International Endurance riders Meriel
and Peter Moon.
Peter Moon prepares Gedinski
Peter himself is riding Gedinski's full brother Danny Boy. His former
owner Yvonne Keighley rode him last year from Barrow-in-Furness all the
way to Shrewsbury, to raise money for the breast cancer centre at
Christie's Hospital in Manchester. Sadly Yvonne was defeated by the illness
this year, and left Danny to the Moons. "She would be pleased to see him
doing something like this," says Peter, when we try inadequately to thank
him for today.
Enviously I watch Peter and Martha disappear over the skyline
towards Littleborough. My turn soon!
Martha waiting to leave on Gedinski
Martha on Gedinski and Peter on Danny Boy
Evening
Went to Todmorden then on to the Moons' at Bacup, so
we've covered an "equivalent distance" as if we had gone north to the edge
of F&M country.
Later
Utterly depressing news: We've just heard that F&M restrictions have been
extended today to the whole of Northumberland, wiping out even the small, by now only
symbolic, trek through the Kielder Forest to the border. Is any part of northern England
open, other than snippets here and there? How can we finish the Odyssey on a suitable
note, rather than fizzling out like a damp squib?
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Peter:
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