Sunday the 8th of June 2003. A red letter day for young Dean (9 years old) as it was his first Great Oswaldtwistle Walk. The decision had already been taken to walk the 15 mile route (the others being 11 & 21) and you could sense the excitement in Dean's voice.
"So where do we start from?" he asked. The reply of Ossy was not exactly what he was looking for.
After calling in at the newsagents for some 'extra' refreshments, we crossed the road to the place of signing in. Once this was done there would be no turning back...
Returning outside with the numbers 102 and 103, not really knowing whose was whose (though did it really matter?), we mingled with the other walkers. We eyed each of them up and wondered what distance they would be doing.
It was meant to be a 9am mass start, it was actually 9.05 when we moved due to the Mayor of our fair borough being a touch late. A conscious decision had already been taken by Dean and myself to set off at a 'quick' pace to get ahead of the throng of people, thus making progress easier when it came to those walkers bottlenecks called stiles, which, in this event, turned out better than we thought. In no time at all we had established we were only being bettered on our distance by the nutter, sorry, runner who had dashed off ahead of us. We were in dreamland all the way to Checkpoint 1 (henceforth to be known as CP). A cracking pace, in front, and sunshine smiling down on us. At the CP we were greeted by a lovely couple who gave us orange juice and biscuits while we waited for them to punch our cards. That was 2.4 miles down in just forty minutes. We left CP1 in buoyant mood - it wasn't to last.
It was just ten short minutes into phase two of our walk when our buoyant mood sank - both allegorically and literally. We passed a family of geese on a pond and we were smiling about this as we approached a herd of cows and calves. Having been a walker for a number of years I know that you should never separate a cow and it's calf by walking between them, so we started heading around the herd.
It rose in one swift movement.
It's head silhouetted against It's shoulders.
The white's of It's eyes boring into us.
A snort.
Then it came towards us - a low noise at first that got increasingly high pitched - bellowing.
Yes, there before us, stood a not so happy looking, huge excuse for a bull. We slowly retraced our steps to the pond, there to steel ourselves and gather our thoughts. It had surprised us but I was determined it wasn't going to win! I quickly came up with a contingency plan and voiced it to Dean.
He wasn't interested.
Neither man nor beast (or even me!) was going to take him back for a closer look. We had but one option and that was to skirt around the far side of the pond.
Our buoyant mood was sunk.
We edged around the pond, the bull watching us (I'm almost sure It smirked), as slowly but surely we followed our mood and started to sink in pond two. Little brother to pond one...overgrown with grass...but just as wet. Our mood at this point sank to about the same depth as this body of water. Even that wasn't deep enough when, as a group of five walkers came into view from between the herd, marching straight past the bull, one called out to us "That's not the path you know!"
Ignominy is one of those words I've never really understood - but for some reason it came to mind at that particular moment. The bull had by now led down, though I would like to think it was getting ready to roll around laughing at His achievements for that morning.
So an update on our progress - 3 miles in 65 minutes. I was not amused. I don't really know when I noticed Dean, in his bright red jumper, latching on to the Group of Five.
When did that jumper appear?
I felt like he'd lost all faith in me. His slip on some wet wood, and the subsequent mothering he received from the two ladies in the Group of Five confirmed my worst fears. He liked this way. We strolled slowly on to arrive at our second CP. Here I tried to give Dean a bit of a push but he was having none of it. The Group of Five had gained a willing new member, and in myself a very reluctant one.
Strolling on, I was at the front trying to push the pace, no-one was responding.
Then it happened.
I had gained a couple of minutes over the others when I looked back. He'd done it! Dean had managed to break away from the Group of Five and was gaining on me fast. By the time we reached the next CP we had a clear lead. However, my head dropped when Dean insisted he was going to have not one, but two butties. I was in despair as I watched the Group of Five climb over the stile to the CP but I needn't have worried.
"Come on" said a small voice "I can eat this one while I walk".
Without a moment's thought he was off down the track and I had to lengthen my stride a touch to catch him up. Crossing the road to climb a stile, we headed off down the field to meet another road. We could see Belthorn, our next destination and CP, on the hillside opposite. We glanced behind us almost simultaneously, no-one was there, so on we went.
Now one of the hazards of being first in line is the fact that you are nearly always the first to find trouble, this time in the form of some nice stone steps placed to aid descent down the hillside. However, you are meant to do this descent on your feet and not on your backside, as I so ably demonstrated to young Dean.
"Are they slippy then Dad?" he enquired wryly "I think I'll walk on the grass then".
I reached the stream at the bottom and found a safe place for us to cross, then ascended the other side, only to descend again to a bridge over another stream, before once again ascending. We looked behind us and could see the Group of Five approaching the first valley.
Belthorn was a welcome sight, not least because we had promised ourselves a cup of coffee upon arrival. This task was successfully undertaken with enough time to spare to start walking again before capture by the Group of Five. The next CP was just down the road and upon arrival Dean once again helped himself to the free biscuits. After getting our cards marked I felt something hit my face, then again, and again.
"Get your raincoat on" I said to Dean as I pulled my own from my rucksack.
"It's only a quick shower" he replied. I knew better.
Now there is rain and there is Great Oswaldtwistle Walk rain. The latter I had experienced the previous year whilst undertaking the 21 mile route. It was raining when I'd got up that day and it stopped at 4pm. I was approximately 100 metres from the finish and I was very, very, wet. You see, Great Ossy Walk rain is of the torrential, horizontal variety. So when I said "Don't argue, get it on" I was deadly serious.
We left the CP and within a few metres the heaven's opened and dropped their load on our heads. The torrential, horizontal variety. By the time we entered the next field we were soaked and I could sense that Dean's flame was flickering. What happened next however was just the miracle I needed to get Dean glowing again.
As we rounded a corner of a field we saw a group of people in the distance and we were gaining on them with every step we took. Closer and closer they got.
"Who are they?" enquired Dean.
"Well" said I "we know that we are the lead 15 milers. And the 21 milers could not possibly have got to this point yet. So that means they are more than likely 'elevenses'."
Dean's face lit up like a beacon shining through the dismal weather. As we neared this group of eight, no! Nine! souls we could see they were negotiating a wire fence.
"Careful" a man shouted "it's electric".
Thanking him we both dealt with this minor problem with such ease that we are sure a couple of mouths gaped at our accomplishment. We continued on through the lead members of this group of 'elevenses', one of whom even suggested that following us would be a good idea, quickly quashed when they realised that neither electricity nor the elements was going to hinder our progress.
Dean was glowing.
Passing these poor souls was the boost he needed and when we arrived at the last CP, in the rain, his mood lifted even further when told that there was only about 10 people in front of us and two had been runners. The lollipops played their part as well.
From here to the finish was easy going and no problems were encountered. There was however an occurrence of such a freakish nature that all we could do was laugh.
Loudly.
A couple walking their dog (in that weather!) stopped and stared at the two of us as we passed laughing loudly in the torrential rain. The cause of our amusement?
I was foaming at the knees.
It actually took a minute or two to realise that I did not have a serious medical condition, possibly caused through over-exertion. The combination of heavy rain, over exuberance in the use of washing powder by my partner and my legs rubbing against the material, had resulted in my shorts going through a wash cycle whilst walking. Foam was running down both my legs in two inch wide strips and it looked very strange indeed. A walker with go-faster soap stripes. At least my knees were clean.
Arriving back at the place whence we started was a wondrous occasion. It was ten past two. Still raining as it had been for the previous ninety minutes - torrential. We ascended the stairs to log back in and we were warmly greeted by a round of applause as we entered the room.
"102 and 103 reporting back" I said, as Dean indulged himself with yet more biscuits off a plate.
I was given two badges, a reminder of our walk for future years.
In between biscuits Dean somehow managed to ask where we were placed out of everybody.
"10th and 11th" came the reply.
Two runners had come before us and seven 'elevenses'. Dean smiled. We said goodbye and began the short walk home. As we turned out of the street we saw the Group of Five closing in on home, 20 minutes behind us. We smiled at each other.
"Er, next year Dad......"
