The long walk to Wellbee

This weekend, my husband and I, along with a group of enthusiastic Wingman volunteers met for our second Yorkshire 3 Peaks Challenge – a 26 mile walk starting with Pen-Y-Ghent (694m or 2277ft), followed by Whernside (763m or 2145ft) and finishing off with Ingleborough (723m or 2372ft). This is a challenge in its own right, but for some of us, the challenge was even more of a personal one.

I have been up all three of these peaks before – Ingleborough in 1994 when camping with friends from RAF Finningley – on that occasion we drove an overloaded Ford Escort that bottomed out on every bump, slept 4 to a 3 man tent, found a field attached to a pub which had live music, and bimbled happily up the hill and down again with no real purpose or agenda, and it was brilliant!

The other two I climbed last year, and having walked through torrential rain at the top of Whernside, and my feet in tatters by the time I got to the bottom, I just didn’t have anything left to get me up the third and final peak, even when I discovered that our best friends had travelled from Lincolnshire to meet us at the top. I was gutted but it was a good call because the group that did continue didn’t finish until after dark and I would have held them up even more.

Despite making a good decision, I was really annoyed with myself for not managing all three – and because I am a bit competitive (understatement of the century) I promised myself that I would manage all three the next time and that I would train for it in the interim.

The next time was this weekend and I would love to be able to say that I have put in the training and was able to sprint up the hills with the agility of a mountain goat. I would love to say this but it would be a lie. I had all the right intentions, but in the end, somehow never actually managed to any serious training – I don’t think walking the dogs along the beach every day quite cuts it when you are taking on something on this scale. I haven’t been completely idle – cardio tennis, swimming and paddleboarding have definitely made me slightly fitter, but I knew this was going to be tough.

The scramble up Pen-Y-Ghent, although steep is a brilliant start to this hike because you conquer the first hill very quickly although the walk to the next is long. I decided that I would just walk at my own pace, using my sticks, and tried not to talk on the uphill sections, and by the time I had completed the first two, I was in a MUCH better position than I had been last year, helped by the perfect walking conditions – overcast, with a light breeze and 18°c

I set off up Ingleborough feeling completely elated that this time, I was able to complete the loop – despite already knowing that my legs were going to hurt for days to come.

This was about much more for me though than being able to complete the walk. This was about celebrating the fact that I can walk at all, and also about letting go of some of the past 18 months.

This time seven years ago I had just left hospital where a week on a drip had saved me from my own body, and I knew I had been lucky to survive – the second chance I got at life is something that I appreciate every single day, but it came at a cost to my physical health. In the run up to my illness I was a fit runner, swimmer and tennis player, and as predicted by my brilliant neurologist, my fitness levels afterwards hit the floor. Having regularly swum 1000m I couldn’t even swim a single length and although I built that back up, I have never conquered running again (yet) and only recently started trusting my legs again (especially going downhill) – so the sense of physical accomplishment on this mega-walk was enormous.

It was a spiritual journey in some ways too though. This time last year I was about to receive my final pay check, our charity was only 6 months old and I was pretty angry at everything that had led to that point. I kept smiling on the outside (mostly) but on the inside I was RAGING at the injustice of everything that had brought us to this point. I didn’t know, and still don’t if I could ever return to a flight deck, and I definitely didn’t know if any of the other ideas I had would work out at all

One year on, I am in a completely different place in my own life, and the charity that has not only sustained me but the lives of so many of my fellow aircrew since March 2020 has gone from strength to strength, always changing shape, always throwing some curveball or other at us, and always reminding us of the sense of purpose we all need

No longer angry about the many reasons for my decision to leave (and as I have said many times before, it was MY decision so at least I have that), I chose during the long walk yesterday to just let some things go. I can only control the controllables, and feel lucky that I can even still do that.

As I walked, or maybe slightly hobbled into the campsite we were staying in at the end of our epic day in the hills (we were on the move for 10 hours 50 but including food and drink stops we took just over 12 hours from start to finish), the sight of Wellbee, our mobile well-being lounge sitting in the car park in all its glory was a welcome sight marking not only the end of the walk, but serving as a brilliant reminder of everything we have achieved together this year, and everything we can still go on to do.

I met up with old friends, made new ones and met in person for the first time, people I have worked closely with and who have become part of our big Wingman family (and that is very much what we have become) yesterday in the Yorkshire Dales and I for one will be back next year with the hope of a nimble scramble up hill and down dale in record time. The reality of this remains to be seen but for now, I’m going into this next year tired and aching but knowing there is a bright light on the horizon and if I can’t walk towards it, I’ll just jump on Wellbee and hitch a ride!!!