Day 6 - Tuesday 13th - Home

Leapra Cross - West Coombe - Heathercombe - Jay's Grave - Houndtor - Haytor Vale
We woke up groggy and confused after only 4 hours sleep, knowing we had to get up if we were going to make any progress. I stumbled out of the tent and realised there were five or six people in the field. A man asked me if I knew what I was stepping on and I looked down to a patch of soil at my feet. I apologised for absent mindedly destroying his plant and explained what we were doing there. It was joint owned and it seemed some of the owners were less happy than others about us being there. Kes and Ava came down and invited us into Kes' house for breakfast and tea. It was the kind of house you only ever see in Devon and I felt at home instantly as we sat down to dish up muesli out of a huge pot. We were introduced to Kes' mum who was in the process of leaving the house. Kes had written a note the night before which read : 'I directed some lovely walkers to camp in the field. They are very nice, hope thats ok!'. She seemed perfectly happy with the fact we'd slept in the field and and that two perfect strangers were sitting at her kitchen table eating cereal. Kes' younger sister Hazel and her boyfriend Leo sat down to breakfast with us too. Kes and Hazel had both gone to Sands, the same school as me and Raz and we quickly found out which friends we had in common and the vague links between everyone we knew. We were definately back in Devon. We talked about school, music, parties, and various other things before cleaning ourselves up and getting ready to go. Phone numbers and email addresses were exchanged before saying goodbye to Kes who was going to work at the recycling centre down the road called Proper Job! Ava offered us a lift back to the trail we had strayed from but on arrival we realised we'd left our tent and food back at the house. She kindly took us back to get it and then to our path....again!


The soft breeze meant the temperature was perfect and the hot sun hugged the hills and valleys. We walked through fields, woods, farms, gardens and over rivers trying to follow the trail on our map. This was more like it; no motorways, no television, no people. We decided as it was the last day we should ease our pain with a drink and a spliff, and sat down next to a pond in an idyllic little place call Heatherly. We taped a speaker to Raz's bag and listened to Ugly Kid Joe whilst cruising through the forest and over the hill towards Natsworthy. I felt the weed starting to affect me as the sudden abundance of colours in the forest caught my attention. The chore of walking had turned mechanical and became more trance-like as my vision trailed just behind my head movements, soaking up the now pyscadelic enviroment. Every sound; a twig snapping under my step or a fly passing my head, satisfied my ears like music and I was even starting to enjoy what I normally knew as pain and aching. I hadn't felt that content in years. I was starting to recognise places, but my stimulated mind wasn't helping much with directions. We asked some girls sitting in their car where we were and then headed to the big chair by Jay's Grave. Sitting on the chair, I took in one of my favourite views of cartoon like rolling hills and distant Tors, as if rocks had been sprinkled over each hill top. It was good to be back.

After correcting a wrong turn that wasted about 40 minutes, we walked towards Hound tor. The usual tourists filled the car park and we sat down to smoke a bit more before queing up at Hound of the Basket Meals for a burger. We talked to a guy who had come to Devon 18 years ago and never left. He loved riding all over the moors on his motorbike and told us of how he used to hitch everywhere when he was younger. We also spoke to a family who had big rucksacks on and were walking and camping on the moors. It was odd being completely at ease starting conversations with strangers while ridiculously stoned. The hunt trotted camply into the car park, with what must have been about 20 horses and a mixture of french and english families in pantomime like costumes. I was eager to stroke one of the horses, and asked a few of the women what they had been doing that day. They told me they'd been hunting and I mentioned how I thought it was illegal. They all laughed at me but I was far too stoned to do anything but stroke the horse and look at the ground!


The final leg was all we had to do now and it was about 4 miles to home. It seemed that the closer we got the harder it became. Exhaustion, lack of sleep and the aftermath of smoking all day had left us limping like zombies alongside the road. The near horizon dipped away to reveal Haytor rocks, and I felt a sense of relief. It was an odd feeling getting back, a mixture of contentment and dissapointment. I hadn't been there for nearly 4 months, and I remember feeling like I didnt know what to do with myself. I dumped everything down, had a bath and lay on the sofa. My mind was barely functioning enough to talk or think, and I fell asleep.

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After
A week...It seems like such a miniscule amount of time. A week would normally slip by un-noticed, leaving few memories behind, which is why I didn't think any time so brief could have such a profound effect on me. I'd just spent months travelling around South East Asia, being mothered every step of the way by overly helpful people eager to take my money. I went there looking for adventure and excitment, and returned feeling like I'd been on a drawn out package holiday, my previous life and mind-set suspended and waiting for me unchanged. It was this dissilusionment that drove me to do something I'd wanted to do for ages, that cost next to nothing and was right on my doorstep; to walk from London to Devon. Ok, so I didn't succeed exactly, but in trying to, I encountered some of the nicest people and had some truly interesting experiences. On one hand the journey was a complete failure, and on the other a triumph. Every person we came across tried to offer us help in whatever way they could, even when we didn't need it! We must of walked about 80 or 90 miles overall, which would only get you half way from London to Devon, and I think I've done some permanent damage to my knees! I'm still determined to walk it, but with a better route and some more time. Also, I met up with Kes the next time I went down to Devon and we've been spending quite a lot of time together since. It's strange to think that if anything had been different by a few seconds I would probably have never met her!
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