Leg 5: Antsy to Buckland Newton, 6.2 miles, 1072 feet up, 1050 feet down
OK. 32.6 miles done. And the next bit is only 10 km. This is fine. I can do that far. OK. I can. I totally can. It's going to be fine.
And anyway, the next part looks to be quite exciting, with the Dorsetshire Gap coming up, whatever that was, but it had lots of signposts so must be important. It turned out to be a muddy crossroads in a dip, which looked a bit murky in the approaching gloom of dusk, plus it had a big bin right by it. Which turned out to be a box for a visitors book. But what would you write? I wondered, as I plodded on, up one of the tracks. Unable to accept that a visitors book would be there purely to record people's experience of walking along a muddy track, I investigated further, and have discovered that the Dorsetshire Gap is an important, historic track junction, where five ancient racks meet, and was the hub of Central Dorset from the Middle Ages until the 19th Century. People have been walking though here since the Middle Ages! The people who must have been here! No wonder it has a visitors book! I wonder how long it's been here for? I wish I'd read it.
Keeping up the tradition of traveling along these tracks, I continue on my way. I use my compass a lot, not because I particularly need to, but more because there's no one much else about, and I need something to think about other than the fact it's about to get dark. I soon catch up with a cheerful gentleman, who is carefully picking his way down some steep steps through a wood. I say steps. I assume that at some point there would have been steps, but presently it was pretty much a vertical mud slide with a wooden handrail on one side, which was also covered in mud, presumably from muddy casualties, grabbing on for dear life. We make our way down, slipping and sliding, and I pray that I'm not going to stack it, and slide into the gentleman, and scupper both our chances of finishing,
We somehow make it down without a dramatic injury, and emerge into a misty field which is getting dusky, and the grass is really wet and soaks my feet (not that it matters what happens to my feet now, they are ruined). I jog up a lane, and am surprised to see a black panther sat at the side of the road some way ahead. How exciting. As a get closer, I wonder why it's not running off. Maybe it's a friendly panther. He's probably just sat watching all these people run past. As I do just that, I stop to look at him, and realise he is just a couple of branches balanced together. Ee by gum. I need to get a grip. It's not even night yet, and I'm already imagining things. It will be a downward spiral now. I've heard of all these hallucination things that people get on long events, but I thought you didn't get them till the second night when you were so sleep deprived and exhausted that you see all sorts of exciting stuff that you wouldn't normally. It's supposed to be your minds way of protecting you from the pain of the experience. Maybe mine's kicked in early. Fine with me.
I climbed up the hill and into the gathering dusk. The weather, which had been scorching all day, seemed to sense the change in mood, and thunder started to rumble around in the background. Great, fantastic, brilliant. I completely love thunder. I'm not scared of it at all. This is all totally fine and I'm in control of the situation. Breath. It's also fine that I'm running under some trees. This isn't dangerous at all. And just as the thunder gets louder, I run into a field of cows, who apparently are even less keen on the rumble-y stuff than I am, and who are freaking out in a moo-ing kind of way. Fantastic, cows AND thunder, AND it's getting dark. All of my favourite things all at once. All we need now is a giant spider to fall out of the sky, and my nightmare will be complete.
Lomax. Get it together. It is some cows, some weather, and a part of the day that happens every 24 hours. And there is no giant spider. Don't be so ridiculous. All you need to do is get to the top of this hill, and from then it's downhill to the next checkpoint, where there's likely to be some crisps, and then everything will be fine.
Crisps. OK. Focus. Get to the top of the hill....
Where there is a big metal gate, secured by a farmer who was clearly convinced his cows were aspiring Houdinis. It takes a good couple of minutes to undo the metal chain tied around it. Once through the other side, I notice that a herd of bullocks have been enticed by my crashing and banging around the gate, and clearly think that something is about to happen for them, and have come up to have a look. Then I have to fiddle with the chain for another millennia to get it to shut, so the teenage-boy-cows can't make a run for it, and by the time I turn around, the gang have surrounded me. Literally. I sweared a lot at this point, but will spare you that now. I told you I wasn't being ridiculous; cows are a complete nightmare. I gather all of my strength, which is by now somewhat diminished, and stand up straight. I have run 35 miles to get here, I will not be intimidated by tomorrow's burger (apologies to all veggies - I didn't actually mean this, I don't even like burgers - this was purely fighting talk in an attempt to convince myself of my dominance). I marched through, talking loudly about seeded buns and ketchup, and waving my arms. They let me though, but followed me; stomp, stomp, stomp, I could feel them hot on my heels. A rouge bullock, who was evidently late to the party because he had been drinking Bison Grass vodka behind the bushes, sauntered up from ahead and blocked me off from the next gate.He lowered his head and stamped his feet. Holy, holy cow. I pretended to ignore the beast, and continued around him on my march towards the gate. By now I could feel their hot breath on the back of my neck, and I was rapidly loosing my composure. Thank goodness it was getting dark and no-one else could see me. I grabbed hold of the gate, and with all my strength jumped over it (in a feat I haven't managed since I was 8, when I ended up falling into a field of stinging nettles on the other side). I turn back and stare at the bullocks, to show them who's boss, and then quickly run off.
Hurrah! I make it to the next checkpoint at Buckland Newton and I'm still in one piece! And my Mum and Andrew are here! And they have brought pizza! Have a quick outfit change (into my Saturday night outfit), don my head-torch, grab a banana and set off into the dark with Andrew, who has come for moral support in the darkness. The nightmare has ended.
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