That hike sounds absolutely fucking horrible and I feel a dire need to do something exactly like it. Loved the writing, I was right there with you on the cliffs and shorelines.
This. This is the type of writing I was expecting when I read Bill Bryson's Notes from a Small Island. I finished that book and regret it, but I would gladly read volumes of your sea and sweat soaked ramblings.
But I think you might need to reconsider your hiking food options considering the scotch egg incident and now the pasty. I fear you learned nothing from Slocum’s white cheese experience.
PS I’m also glad to hear you have an emergency button. The search party is standing down
That hike sounds absolutely fucking horrible and I feel a dire need to do something exactly like it. Loved the writing, I was right there with you on the cliffs and shorelines.
This. This is the type of writing I was expecting when I read Bill Bryson's Notes from a Small Island. I finished that book and regret it, but I would gladly read volumes of your sea and sweat soaked ramblings.
But I think you might need to reconsider your hiking food options considering the scotch egg incident and now the pasty. I fear you learned nothing from Slocum’s white cheese experience.
PS I’m also glad to hear you have an emergency button. The search party is standing down
The whiskey I sip tonight is in your honor ... blazing a trail I can only imagine. But you give me hope for my next life.
You had me at Westward Ho!, the rest was pure poetry.
It'd be easy for me to say that I dream of doing a walk like that one day, while the reality is that I drive even to the nearest Lidl. But still.
Your story is a putting my theory into practice: that if we all said fuck it a little more often, we'd all be happier for it.