My hopes of Kit recovering overnight and continuing with day five of our six-day walk from Belfast to Derry/Londonderry were more hope than knowledge. She knew her own limits from years of doing multiple extended walks in the past. Her body needed a day off, and she would be taking a bus to our next stop at the Belfray Country Inn.
Dusty would not be happy with me walking along the roads of Northern Ireland alone, and this absolutely needed to be addressed. I suggested that she would be able to see where I was all the time just by using the app to monitor the position of my phone. She said that would let her know where I was, but not how I was. We concluded that it would be okay for me to continue, with the plan for me to contact her every hour I was on the road so that she would not worry. I also had the phone number for Martin, the person who lived in the area and was going to drive me to where I had finished walking the day before.
With a plan in mind, I went about getting my stuff packed into the backpack and went downstairs for breakfast before getting back on the road. Our B&B host, Margaret, provided a solid English breakfast of eggs, ham/bacon, and potato bread to fuel me up. I called Martin, hugged Kit farewell, and went out front to wait for my ride.
Martin picked me up a few minutes later and drove me the eight miles I had walked the day before from the B&B. He explained how to best navigate the route to our next stop. It would be only eight miles and would have me on their version of a freeway for as little time as possible. I tried to offer him some money to pay for the gas, and his left arm flew across my chest so quickly I thought I would be pinned against the car seat. "No. Absolutely not. A gift is a gift." I acknowledged my appreciation for the gift and the fact that in the past, and hopefully in the future, I would be able to pass along similar gifts of kindness to strangers.
When he dropped me off at the same spot he had picked me up the day before, he insisted that I give him a call if I needed any help. These are the kind of people that restore my hope for humanity. As he drove away, I took a look down at my phone and considered the route he had recommended. Then I looked at the route the phone recommended. His route had me walk on the freeway for about a mile or so. His route was about eight miles. The phone said I could stay off the freeway completely if I were to climb up into the hills to my right and walk an extra mile and a half. A longer, more difficult walk through the countryside was exactly what my body wanted. Staying away from the traffic was what was safest. Decision made. Turn right. Message Dusty. Start walking. Set a one-hour alarm to remind me to message her again. Otherwise, my mind may well wander as I wandered.
Ballyhanedin Road climbed up steeply, and I found my heart pounding from the exercise. My watch allowed me to monitor not only my walking pace and elevation gain but also my heart rate. I set a limit in my mind of 140 beats per minute as a forced rest point. I only reached that limit once, much later in the walk, on an even steeper hill.
Leaving the wide pavement behind, I was back on the country roads that I had frequently enjoyed over the past several days.
I could see that I was going to crest the top of a hill and be in the next valley before I made progress further west toward the Belfray Country Inn. As I got higher, I could see what I had left behind and more of the countryside I had come to love. This was the stuff I wanted to soak up: peace, tranquility, beauty.
Ballyhaden Road led to Baranailt Road, which led to Craigatoke Road. Over hills and across streams, past farms and little country homes. I blessed the little phone in my pocket for allowing me to enjoy wandering while actually getting to where I was going. And it was time to use that phone again to message Dusty. And she messaged back. When I saw hydrangeas and a rabbit, I let her know that I was thinking of her. I would take water breaks and intentionally pause to take care of myself for her. When the occasional car would pass, I would step aside to give way, and most of them would politely wave as they went by.
To the left and down another long, lonesome road, I saw a girl in her school uniform standing in front of the only house I would pass in the next half hour. Before I got close enough to see more than that, a large yellow bus rolled up and she climbed aboard.
Further down the road and over the next rise, I could see something bright red on the right side of the road. As I drew closer, I started to smile. On the left was a house maybe a century old, showing signs of wear and tear from use, but still cared for enough to indicate that it was still occupied. The bright box across the street from it was like something from a British travel poster from the 1940s. A Doctor Who fan may have mistaken it for a TARDIS, but I immediately recognized it as a Red Telephone Box. Designed by Sir Giles Gilbert Scott and an iconic symbol of the British Isles. It seemed insanely out of place on a road in the middle of almost nowhere. From the position near the home, I could imagine that the people living there nearly one hundred years ago would have used this very device to communicate with their loved ones around the country and possibly beyond. I also felt that the colors and contrast made a wonderful photograph with the added benefit of irony.
Down the road a bit, and it was time to take another break for water and a bit of nutrition in the form of a fruit and nut bar. I messaged Dusty and looked for a place to sit out of the sun as it was heating up and trying to sap my strength. There was a gate to a field on the left that provided some respite from the road, and I prepared to take a seat when I noticed some wet tar where I wanted to sit. So I moved a bit further along only to find a pile of dog crap waiting to paint my pants. Not so fast. I finally set myself down and immediately felt the burn through my shirt, letting me know that I had not made the right decision. Yep. Stinging nettles were poking their barbs through my shirt like fiberglass shards, irritating my skin. I got up as quickly as my tired muscles would allow and peeled off my shirt as a car rolled by. Shaking and brushing it to remove what I could of the nettles, I put it back on only to see one other person on the road.
A man in a green shirt with a walking stick in his hand was making good time walking up behind me. I stuffed my nutrition bar in my mouth, took a long drink of water, and started on my way again. In less than five minutes, the Irishman passed me and we greeted each other. We agreed that it was a wonderful day for a walk, and he continued with a long, steady stride to make his way to wherever he was going. And that was the only human contact I had along that whole walk.
Further down the road were the ruins of an old house that, once again, caught my photographer's eye as it glowed in the harsh morning light. The entire roof and half of the stone walls had long since tumbled to the ground, and fresh green growth was coming up everywhere the long-gone family had laughed, cried, eaten, and slept. The glassless window frame that still held up a couple of rows of stones created a picture frame for the roof peak of the structure that still stood behind. The spider's web and climbing vines created the accent to tell the story of passing time. Who was standing there when there was glass in that window and a roof overhead? What were they seeing those many years ago? It was fun to feel the history. It was time to message Dusty again and walk on.
The road finally rolled down out of the hills and onto the freeway. I was able to cross under it and onto a frontage road. When I was getting near the hotel, I came to a bus stop and paused to contact Kit to see if she was on her way. When she said she would be there in about fifteen minutes, I paused to wait. When she asked where I was, I asked where she was. She was twenty minutes past The Belfray Country Inn, and I was fifteen minutes before it. We agreed to both start walking and meet at the hotel.
I took the high road and Kit took the low road, and I got to Belfray before her.
One last night in one last hotel and we would be walking into Derry/Londonderry tomorrow. We had asked Dusty and Randy if they would be able to take the bus to meet us there around noon. Dusty was not feeling well, but said she would make it if she could. Finishing the walk would be nice. Seeing Dusty would be great.
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