Walking?

On the 21st of July 2018 I  attempted the Yorkshire Three Peaks Challenge, to raise money for the British Red Cross. Quite the worthy cause, n'cest pas? The avid readers amongst you will know that my penchant for walking was awakened in the hazy days of 2017 when I walked fifty something miles on holiday with my mate Issi, we booked the holiday before we met. You can read about that here if you really want to.

Look out for a bold title if you want to skip/scroll to the Y3P attempt

The challenge will take us 10 to 12 hours. I say us because I'm not doing this solo. It's a team effort, we're either team EIM, IME, or IRE. I'm the M or R in these acronyms. The E and the I, respectively, are Ed and Issi, a veritable father daughter powerhouse of stamina. As you all know I am a doughy brown man, so I've been doing my best to catch up/add value.

The catching up started with me walking on an incline on a treadmill, three times a week since February. I had no idea if this would help at all once I got into them there hills. Then came the Dorket Head saga, this is the highest point in Nottingham, at a staggering 146 metres above sea level(!) But it's a 13+ mile walk so distance wise it was a good test, I was knackered at the end.

Dorket Head's Trig Point, to break up the text...

An impossibly neat hedge, from my second Dorket heading

We progressed to the Peak District and decided to traverse a route that combined Dovedale and the Tissington Trail. Issi and I set off at a breakneck pace, I had to pee for the first two hours of the walk, I've never been more relieved to find a public bathroom! And I know what you're thinking, "Dude you're in the countryside just find a tree!", the place was choca with families I had no chance of finding somewhere secluded to answer the call of nature. We got lost, course corrected and got lost again towards the end. As a result we had to hop the odd wooden fence, stone wall, and electrified fence. 

Just before we went off route we saw some darling cow babies :-)

Before we finished I gingerly asked if we should celebrate with a pint, expecting some fierce resistence, there was none. This was just before my fellow walker turned and said "There should be a well here..." She suspected we were lost again as there was no well, I gesture towards the well we'd just walked past, she smiles. Rarily have I enjoyed a pint so much.

The post walk pint with my walking compadre just off cam.

The following week Ed, Issi, and I, tackled Kinder Scout! At the time it was the hardest walk I'd ever done. Steep, hot, uneven, boggy, unclear instructions, where o where is Pym chair!? My personal highlight was the realisation we'd somehow looped round back to Jacob's Ladder, it's a rocky construction that was super punishing on the way up so we were not relishing descending it. But we finished, grabbed a pint, and feasted on a smorgasbord from the Mcdonalds saver menu, worth it.

Worth it for the view/Maccies feast.

A few weeks later Issi and I tried out something that combines Derwent and Howeden Reservoirs, Margery Hill, and Howden Edge. We started off by getting lost, but we soon realised and were walking round a nice looking body of water, in the shade. I'd bought myself an OS map, compass, AND waterproof case. So I looked... well I have no idea how I looked. It was going well till just after Cranberry Clough. We took a wrong turn, doubled back, took what we thought was the right turn, and had to walk through some rather course heather, filling our boots with tiny spines. But we lucked/reasoned our way through and made it back. Issi kindly bought us burgers from the cafe, delish. 

Quite dramatic, keeping with tradition Issi's obliquely in view

That brings us to our team's last preparatory walk, The Kinder Trespass Anniversary Walk. Issi and I had wisely decided to prepare for our walk but starting the day before by eating pho and banh mii, more or less soup and a sandwich. Before progressing to drink cocktails and beer for the rest of the day. We finished up by consuming some rather delicious Korean fried chicken from The Gallus. I wasn't hanging but I wasn't as fresh as I could've been. I'd dutifully marked our the route the night before and paid close attention to landmarks.

I was also wheeling this case around with me the whole day before, question is can you guess why?!

As we set out I was totes on top of where we needed to go, whereabouts we were on the map, our next move etc. But once we got onto some terrain that was less distinct it all went to pot. My spidey sense was triggered by Lantern Pike, it appeared where it shouldn't have been, if we were on route. We somehow duped ourselves into thinking we were still heading the right way, we were not. Once more we should've realised that when were were walking through tiny, overgrown, cut throughs, that were wedged between two rows of tall garden fences.

With every attempted correction we were not getting any closer to being back on route. The decision was made, collectively, to cut our losses, and headed straight back to where we'd started, the walk wasn't a write off though. What would've been a 15.2 miles ended up being just over 13.

Shortly after taking the photo...

I hung back to capture the dynamic father daughter duo forging ahead. Naturally I broke into a bit of a run to catch up, can you see where this is going? No I didn't plummet to my death down a steep slope, I did however almost sprain my ankle. My boots being almost ankle encasing saved me from that fate.

Two mountains and a fell in 12 hours or less, did we do it?

All signs pointed to me not attempting the Yorkshire 3 Peaks, ankle tendonitis setting in two weeks before, my well worn in boots breaking three days before, and spilling boiling water on my right foot two days before. But I stretched and rested my ankle, got my boot fixed, and quickly cooled my burnt foot. There’s also my being a doughy brown man, but I’ve always been one of those.

Only an eyelet I here yee cry, but the other two had cracks in too. Luckily Ryan at Timpson fixed me right up.

Traffic's a nightmare on Fridays, a 2.5 hour journey took just over four hours but I'll skip the details of my dalliance with Friday rush hour traffic and jump to the morning of. But not before bringing Giggleswick to your attention, possibly my new favourite place name! 

Up at 0400 on Saturday the 21st of July 2018, I have 1.5 hours to be in the car and my way to Horton in Ribblesdale. As that was the official start and finish place for the Yorkshire Three Peaks challenge, Y3P. Plenty of time I hear you collectively think. Alas I am a champion faffer, but I am also well aware of my faffing tendencies, so I have compensated by by packing my backpack, pre-talcum powdering my socks, and laying out all my clothes. Too cool for school, I know.

I make it out of the pub carpark on time and hurtle in the Yorkshire dawn. I'm breakfasting on granola bars whilst driving. Upon arrival I am greeted by a jolly volunteer who is collecting parking fares, I deposit my £3 into the bucket and he whispers “You can park by the gate”. Not sure why he’s whispering but I whisper back, “whisper etiquette”. As I get out of the car and stumble a little, good sign I know, I spot the other member of team IRE! They’re parked directly in front of me, coincidence? Fate obvs.

I gather my walking paraphernalia, make my way over to them, and exchange pleasantries. I note Issi sounds huskier than usual, turns out she’s sporting a cold. Yet here she is raring to go, surly to the core. I’m told of how Ed’s never seen his daughter eat so much for breakfast, he recites an impressively long list of breakfast foods. He had also left a thank you note for Keith, the man who had prepped their super early breakfast, the note was signed off with a kiss. Ed insists it was a cross but we all know what an "X" at the end of a message signifies. We make our way to registration, Ed decides to jump aboard team Red Cross at the last minute. Mostly so he can utilise the water and fruit caches with a clean conscience. We’re issued some cards with the 7 checkpoints on. They’ll check them off as we go, so they know who is where and can deploy sweepers accordingly. After stopping to don waterproofs, it’s spitting a little, we set off around 0640.

Cannily cropped the bottom of my check point card, question is can you fathom why?

Ed declares we have an hour and something to summit Pen-y-ghent if we’re to keep to our ten hour completion time. We push on, once out of the village things get steep, and stay steep. As we go through a gate, I lose my footing and progress to fall extremely slowly. Issi would later tell me she heard some kerfuffle, turned to see what it was, and I was still falling! Didn’t hit the deck, I sort of took a knee. A number of strangers rushed to offer me aid, which was heartening. We push on and I am bricking it. This is a lot harder going than I was anticipating, but I think to myself “get one done”. As we approach the top it’s a straight up scramble/climb up rocks. Again I was not expecting this and am wholly unprepared. There are queues developing at the harder spots, I am glad of a break, even if the it is perched precariously on some rocks.

We make it in time and this is also where checkpoint one is, there are free energy bars, bananas, and water. Ed and I are well up for a banana. Issi stands in front of us ready to go, arms crossed. We wolf down our soft fruit but not before I mockingly imitate Issi’s impatient stance. The cloud is low, or is it mist. The view, which is sure to be quite something, is out of sight. But the mist/cloud does stop the sun from making us overheat, swings and roundabouts.

The descent is tough on the quads, mine are super sore and thankful of the reprieve provided by even ground. We walk on to Whernside. Issi and Ed are setting a pace that is well beyond my comfort zone. But luckily songs keep popping into my head to motivate me. Any guesses as to what they were? Unless you were there you won’t be able to guess I assure you. They were of course devotional songs from youth, Hindu devotional songs! I guess my Tamil roots run deep and surface when I’m huffing and puffing up hill, click here for a taste of what was running through my head. I tell the team and Ed shoots back with a Mamma Mia quip, little did he know that most Tamil films are musicals!

I'm not so far behind...

I more or less keep pace and we eventually see the viaduct. We’re on course and seeing things we’d read about in our in depth research. There’s a brief pause for removing a stone from my boot, a phantom stone, or it fell out as I removed my foot from my boot. As we ascend Issi is in the lead, even with a cold she’s setting a pace that my non-virus ridden system can barely keep up with, beast.

Ok I'm quite far behind.

There’s a query about whether we saw a waterfall or not… we did not. As we turn a corner we’re greeted by the waterfall we thought we’d missed.

There had been a particularly dry spell, more of a water trickle I grant you.

Whernside is a whole lotta uphill. Issi pauses, I’m assuming to let me catch up. As I approach and exhale deeply, she tells me she’s hit a wall, human after all. I reply with “I reckon I hit it about an hour and a half ago…” We laugh, a fellow walker from the North East chimes in, we gather ourselves and march on.

We spot people gathered around a gap in the wall. It slowly dawns on us that we’ve gotten to the top of Whernside! The summit crept up on us, or did we unknowingly creep up upon it? We’re five minutes behind schedule but chipper. Spirits lifted, I offer everyone a nutball, no takers, we pause a while before setting off again. What goes up must come down, something that I’d forgotten about my mood when walking long distances. As we descend I found myself bouncing from bank to bank of a dried up rivulet. I realised my dipped mood had perked up again.

Ed had found a second wind and shot off  ahead of us. We conclude that this energy boost is a result of that bag of mixed nuts and raisins he always has with him. It also turns out Issi’s unforgiving pace setting was, partly, fuelled by unending egging on from Ed. The descent gets steep and I hear exclamations of “This is ridiculous!” from walkers behind me. I take it slowly, following Ed and Issi’s route choices. Alas it gets too steep and loose for me so I drastically course correct. It’s now I'm informed that a group had decided to follow me down this decline… I almost fall a couple of times but catch myself, and cut across to a more stable part of the slope, rockier, and solid under foot. The rest of team IRE are waiting for me at the bottom. Exclamations of how ridiculous that was are shared and we head for a turnstile.

At some point Issi comments that I'd gone full on Northern. I grew up in Grimsby, so I should sound, more or less, like Issi. But I don't, I sound neutral, non-regional diction. Think newsreader but with an edge of "maybe he once met a Northerner..." After spending half a day in Doncaster for a 70th birthday, my North-ish roots had been replenished, this was cranked up by the kindness of a stranger and the friendliness of folks up north in general.

My quads are spent after that decline, as we’re chatting about downward slopes I pull out a paraphrased cliche “There’s downhill and then there’s downhill” a chap speeding past us adds “There’s downhill and there’s there’s THAT downhill” we share a laugh before he leaves us in his dust. Once more Issi bursts into the lead, Ed following closely, and me willing myself to keep up. When I tell them I had my doubts about getting this far because an hour in I was thinking “My feet hurt”, I receive a simple and stern instruction from our pacesetter “Don’t”. I acquiesce of course. Issi puts in a monumental kick motivated by a bathroom at a snack stop. We use the facilities, I buy two Mars bars and a Twix, and we reach checkpoint 5.

We were feeling a little downhearted/confused as the faces that had become familiar during the first two ascents/descents were nowhere to be seen. Either we’d burnt them off with our blistering pace, or we’d been burnt off by their’s. The consensus is that we were the ones who had been burnt. At checkpoint 5 we have a bit of a chat with the marshals. When asked how many people have come through, they tell us about 50. We assume we’re bringing up the rear, so we inquire out of how many, they tell us about 250. Flabbergasted, we’re in the top 20%... not what we were expecting. We are energised by the unexpected news of our performance.

Onwards to Ingleborough, how hard can it be? Probably not as hard as I remember it, but there were two peaks behind us, this was quite the effort. Ed adopted shooting off in bursts and taking breathers. From time to time Issi would pause to let us catch up, before resuming her pace setting duties. My hip flexors are shot, quads hurt, calves on the edge of cramping, but it’s not like I can’t move. The steep ascent gets steeper. As we look up we’re met with something that looks rather ridiculous. Visibility is rather awful and we’d be walking into the clouds. 

That cloud/mist view I just mentioned, with the back of Issi's dainty head for scale, this is about halfway.

One last push we’re told. Onwards. Ed and Issi shoot off, I take it step by step. It becomes more of a scramble/climb again. I stop to let some people pass on their way down, they tell me I’m 5-7 minutes from the top. I push on, I’ve lost sight of Ed and Issi. I briefly lose my balance but luckily my poles are planted firmly so I don’t fall back causing a domino effect. I get to level ground and the I and E from team IRE are waiting for me. We stride vaguely into the mist/cloud in the opposite direction to those heading back down.

We see a tent and we’ve made it to checkpoint 6, almost there. After a brief nutball and carb gel break, down we go. Descending involves heading back the way we came for a bit. It’s hard, fellow walkers are coming the other way, some folks push past, but we get through and turn towards Horton in Ribblesdale. Downhill all the way, more or less. Issi shoots off ahead, but lets us catch up and we chat. Nothing major just school, mind over matter, training.

Ooh there was a small boy descending Ingleborough as we were going up. Issi clocked his tiny walking boots, I clocked is bright blue eyes. I then go on to explain that I envy anyone with colour in their eyes, mine are super dark brown, aka almost the absence of colour. My mind predictably meanders and I start thinking out loud about what the major feature of my face is… not my eyes, my brow is too pronounced, thus making them appear small. Perhaps my brow, nah probs my nose. It’s now that I notice Issi is laughing, I’m always happy to instigate a laugh, even if I didn’t mean to. She turns to her dad and asks him what he thinks is the major feature of my face. He laughs and they decide that this needs further discussion before coming to a conclusion.

There are parts of this that would be near impossible if there had been significant rain. Some of the descents would have been way too slippery and loose. As we plod along there’s a sign that tells us we’re 2 miles from the finish point. Ed exclaims less than an hour then. Initially I’m a little gutted but he points out that compared to how long we’ve been walking that’s nothing. I explain how walking a couple of miles was a reasonable walk for me… before embarking on the training for this. We pass a few familiar faces, and before we know it we see the village. It’s now that I’m struck by how remarkable my two teammates are. Issi is full of cold, Ed is more than twice my age, neither has complained once, both have helped me maintain pace, and I would not have finished without them. Issi stops to take a picture of a group with a sign saying:

“You’ve just completed the Yorkshire three peaks… no need to tell the whole village”.

Or something to that effect.

We cross over the railway lines and Issi shoots off into the lead again. But she slows her roll and we regroup. I say "Team finish?", she replies with "Team finish."As we walk on we see people heading the other way with their medals. Drawing closer we notice the pubs are crammed full, there’s a great dane! I should mention that dogs played a big role in maintaining my morale. They would pop in and out of sight lifting my spirits. As we approach the hall we hear applause for anyone who’s completed. We walk in and are met by a wall of well done and clapping. We don’t take positive reinforcement well, as we clock out we’re handed certificates and are medalled.

See why I cannily cropped before?

Taking a seat has rarely felt so good. Ed’s getting the teas in. I get my nutball on, and offer them to my teammates for the last time. Issi takes an almond ball as does Ed. Issi is positively shocked at how nice they are. We join in with the applause as more people finish, there are a couple of false starts. Other Red Cross volunteers, people who had already finished popping back in. Ed chugs cup after cup of tea, and drops the teaman a hefty compliment. Best tea he’s had all day, if only Keith was there... It'd taken us 10.5 hours, Ed and I are sure Issi would've done it in under 9 if we weren't slowing her down and she was sans cold. Now to see if we can get a celebratory pint.

I finally have the chance to get the drinks in and we take a pic with our certificates, medals, and pints, complete with me jazz handsing in the background. I would later learn that we’d climbed two mountains and one fell that day. I’ll stop there. That’s the story of how the day went. I doesn’t have all the details, but if it did it’d be even longer, and no one wants that.

Go team IME/IRE!

I’ve reached my donation target, smashed it in fact. Thanks to the conquistador, Mable^2, my Conisborough mandem, Dr Dad, the man who had a large part to play in why I’m still able to walk, and a dude from Issi's year, Mitchell, who donated after reading my write up!

If you’d like to donate then click here and do the thing, if not maybe have a go yourself next year.

If I can, you can.

N.b. There was brief talk of the National Three Peaks challenge...

Three days, Three nights, and an unsurprising amount of walking - Day 1

This is the sequel to my six part epic from 2017: Six Days, Five Nights, and a Frivolous Amount of Walking clicking that link will take you to day one, links to subsequent days are at the end of each post, I think, just checked and yarp they are indeed present.

Since that time I should give you a little back story, about me mainly. I left my job down in old Witney town, took one in Lincoln, was let go after four days as the dude I was replacing was no longer leaving the company. I then went on a recruiter schmoozing spree and landed three offers in four days, accepting the one that I thought would let me help to make the most difference. It is at Nottingham City Council, where I do... something. Nothing untoward folks, my job is varied, involved, and takes at least a thousand words to explain properly. If you see me face to face ask and I'll spill all the deets.

The return readers amongst you will remember the equal parts dainty/intense Issi lives in Nottingham, so when I moved I thought we could carry on as such without the long distance element. That we did, gym, NYE, sushi, etc. One morning in March 2018 I received a message letting me know there are cheap flights on offer to Vilnius, I assume it's a hint and hop on feet first. There's a short stall before a swift Sunday night spree of booking flights and accommodation. Then the excitement hits and I didn't really sleep that night.

The time between booking and heading out was a three/four weeks. So we have little to no time to actually fret/research/over think. Luckily Issi and I are dab hands at aggregating the available info into something resembling a plan of action. My plan revolves around 10 Lithuanian dishes you should try click here for that list! Issi's plan was to pin all the places that blogs, guides, top ten lists say you should visit. So there you have it, a recipe for a classic time with Issi and Ron, food + monuments/sights that must be seen/eaten.

We were to fly out early on a Friday morn and return early the following Monday. This leaves us almost three days. Apparently that's a lot of time as Vilnius is compact, a particularly motivated globe trotter could hit all the sights in a day. I awaken at 03:00 Friday morning with a cool three hours of sleep under my belt, FYI I don't sleep in a belt, yet. I shower, and drop my travel compadre a message letting her know I am awake. I proceed to meditate, she replies reciprocating my woke sentiment. I do one last mental run through of what I've packed; pants, socks, t shirts, shorts, a couple of "smart" shirts, back up trousers, toiletries, tan oxfords, phone charger, and a power pack that is incapable of charging my freak phone. Oh and Euros!

I would be testing several pairs of walking socks on this weekend city break. Two generic Amazon, one tested by ultra hikers and my fave pair. I put on the generic Amazon socks, they claim to be "coolmax". I send Issi a pic indicating my level of readiness, she shoots back "ready when you are", surly to the core...

I now remember why a photo of my foot was a bad idea :-|

As I exit my room my parents accost me, well they greet me, but there was a barrage of questions about the airline, timings of flights, if I had everything, and finally an instruction to have a good time. They are sweet if a little intense, if ever you wonder where I get it from... The car is loaded and I sit in it fiddling with the Sat Nav, not to get to Issi's, she's five minutes down the road, but for Robin Hood Airport. I give my folks a final wave and head into the pre-sunrise haze. The roads are uncharacteristically clear. I share my location with Issi and wait... she appears looking as dainty as always. I open the boot, we have a brief conversation about coat options, she's opted for denim shirt + leather jacket, too cool for school right? I have my fleece + waterproof combo that I wear everyday, so cool it hurts right? I hand her our boarding passes, Airbnb itinerary, parking booking details, and a couple of printed messages from our host Zygis.

She questions why I'm handing all these "important documents" to her, my reply was that out of the two of us she is definitely the grown up. We start chatting and I accidentally divert us towards ASDA in Hyson green, my unamed Sat Nav lady recalculates. We talk, drive, the sun rises slowly. I comment that it doesn't feel like we've left Nottingham, we've been exclusively on "A" roads in wooded areas. And lo the universe did hear me and provide us with a brief blast on the A1, still an A road I know but a dual worthy carriageway. Issi tells me I have used one of my universal three wishes, I have no regrets, about the wish that is, I have regrets about many other things... let's move on.

We drive through a quirky little town. Issi had informed me that Robin Hood Airport is ever so cute, this town fits that description, I inquire as to whether this is the airport, she laughs and asserts that that definitely is the case. After a brief Googs I now know it to be Bawtry. Not long afterwards we are within range of the Airport, I'm a little frantic as we are early. Issi assures me that this will be the most chilled out Airport experience of my life. We roll towards the automatic numberplate recognition gate, ANPR, and nothing happens, I'm slightly out of range of the ticket terminal so I swiftly reverse back and approach once more. This time as close as I can be to the ticket terminal, Issi suggests I edge a little further forwards, I do, that tiny difference kicks the whole system into gear and we get a ticket. Which we deposit in another terminal after driving for approximately 200m. We park up, unload, I greet the car park man with the most northern variation of my voice I can muster. We drop off car keys, and into the airport we go.

The wheels of my bag are clacking in a rhythm that is not at all pleasing to the ear, I let Issi know that I have the same hoodie as one of the "lads" ahead of us. A brief bathroom stop and Issi's now on the lookout for an escalator, I really want to head to the check in queue. Issi is leaning with all her steering/herding might but I almost blunder onward. At the last moment I luckily I remember we are already checked in thus avoiding an awkward lean off, I'd back her despite the disparity in our statures.

Memory is a little foggy now, there was an escalator, I think we went through security. I somehow breezed it, odd I know given the alarming level of brownness in my complexion. I hang out and put everything back on. Issi's being held up by something. I'm a little put out as no one questioned the phallic nature of my travel toiletry bottles.

Thoughts?

We amble to find food, Wetherspoons. I am tossing up between the biggest thing on the menu and pacing myself, Issi is going for a full English, I follow suit and go slightly bigger because... reasons. She opts for a pale ale, I follow suit as I trust her taste over mine nine times out of ten. Punk IPA arrives, Issi regales me with a tale of Brewdog's recruitment by consensus and the douche who runs the company. Our breakfasts arrive in record time, we are both not happy about the bean placement.

Central bean placement, yay or nay?

We power through, a member of wait staff comes by to check if everything is ok. There's some next level service I was not expecting at an airport Spoons. We briefly concede we would probably never draw attention to anything that isn't quite right. Mostly for awkwardness reasons, but also because I fear the covert addition of a multitude of bodily fluids. We both finish with the beans and toast remaining. Issi proceeds to construct beans on toast, I eat my beans out of the pot, she laughs as she'd assumed we'd saved our beans and toast for the same reason. We're odd birds but I am odder, of that there is no doubt. I ask if she'd ever cheese over beans, the answer that comes back makes me nod with respect and admiration. Any ideas reader? Issi asserted that the best way to add cheese to beans on toast, is to make cheese on toast, add the beans, followed by a final layer of cheese on top of dem beans!

The conversation veers towards tapas and I'm informed there's a teeny, tiny tapas place in Louth that puts all others to shame. I pull a face, my co-conspirator pulls a corresponding concerned/questioning face. I explain I have no real ties to the town where we were both schooled aged 11-16. As is her way she solves my problem, with an invitation to a probable future BBQ. The plan is BBQ one day then tapas the following day. I beam, well I do my best approximation of a beam. My face operates in superlatives, zero subtlety. Much later I realise this may've been a subtle hint for me to grill master. FYI happy to oblige. Also happy to play lead lackey to Issi as I'm quite sure that's how any cooking based activity would go.

I am totally sure the airline folks will kick off about my spine cushion, I use a lumbar cushion as I was paralysed and had some mondo back surgery back in the hazy days of 2013, read all about it here. Issi doesn't think it'll be a problem, but then again she's a surly so and so, who rarely worries about airport conflict.

We nip to the loo before getting to the gate, I spot we are sat real close to it, the gate not the bathrooms. Upon my return from the bathroom Issi is facing t'other way. I feel an overwhelming urge to sneak up on her, I squash it down. But I do explain that I had the inadvisable urge to sneak up on her, she nods, after this long she knows my proclivity for sneaking. Issi inquires if we should make a move to the gate, I give it the old "oh I dunno, seems like a long old way to go..." She twigs the gate is right behind us, a mere matter of metres. We laugh and queue. Issi explains she did not decide to seat us vaguely near each other, she then explains that in order to make that choice it would've cost an extra £12. A return ticket costs £60 so, that's a definite unanimous nay nay. We walk out and see the sun rise.

On the plane we are greeted by... the word that came to forefront of both our minds was air-hostesses. But that's not the PC term right? We eventually get to the title "flight attendant". It appears there'll be an old lady sat between us, we have a polite standoff as to who get's the window seat and who get's the aisle. The lady twigs we are travelling together and offers to move, I smile and we accept her kindness to strangers. A flight attendant asks if we'd like a row to ourselves, Issi is already buckling in, I decline. I return the lady's kindness by manfully placing her bag in an overhead locker. I mention we could've had our own row if only Issi weren't so hasty to sit down, a couple has occupied the row. Issi mention's the flight attendant's eyebrows were incredibly manicured, likely waxed. We listen to the flight safety announcements, leaf through the magazine, set our phones to flight mode, and I unceremoniously fall soundly asleep.

I did briefly awaken to hear a perfume discussion between our kind seat shuffler and the flight staff, something to do with a fragrance that's been around for 50 years, they abandon the transaction, I fall back asleep. I awaken and am loudly informed over the speakers that we are half an hour from our destination, where the local time will be 12:00 ish. We land, unbuckle, collect our bags, I pass the kind lady her bag upon request, and we bus it to the terminal. We get some seats, somehow. There's a mondo queue that is totally not moving. Some of our fellow travellers jump to other adjacent queues, we maintain our queue monogamy. Folks with little 'uns skip forwards. We eventually get to the front and pass through the frosted glass doors. We decide to use the facilities before venturing outside. Issi goes first whilst I stand guard over the bags, then vice versa. As I pick a urinal, the dude at the next one along lets out a long, breathy sigh of relief. Before laughing maniacally at his mate. As I exit, I notice Issi is facing t'other way again. I swiftly step further into her blind spot before deciding not to startle my friend in a foreign land. We talk strategy and she keeps glancing to the side. We exit the airport and try to locate the train station.

As we amble outside she tells me that a security guard was eyeballing me the whole time. He must've clocked my brief creeping consideration/temptation and thought "is that large brown man bothering that small white girl?!" A sentiment that echoes through everyone's mind whenever they see us out together. Luckily my ability to make her laugh dispelled his suspicions enough that I didn't get tackled by airport security in Lithuania.

I characteristically notice the sign for the train station and we walk toward it. I even manage to correct the usually canny Issi once or twice. I did however fail to activate a pedestrian crossing, I tried to press it through my coat, alas she tells me they're probably motion detecting. Issi assures me there'll be other opportunities, I'm not so sure. The wheels of my bag clack super rhythmically, mmm it's quite the sound. We get to the platform and sit down. I deploy my round sunglasses. They look veritably gigantic on Issi's tiny face. I spy butterflies mating. Some fellow travellers arrive and bolster our confidence in our choice of platform. A track cleaning train trundles past, I raise the alarm and we close our eyes in time, thus avoiding the brief but surely blinding dust storm. The train pulls up and we board, the steps are mighty steep.

We sit and shuffle change. I buy two tickets, they're cheap as. The train gets us there in next to no time. We disembark and start walking in a direction that may or may not lead to the outside world. Issi spots an exit, we spy youths with floppy haircuts descending as we're ascending on an escalator. Just before we exit Issi spots a small shop selling water, we are awfully thirsty but too cheap/thrifty to purchase the potentially overpriced water. It's a temperate day yet there are many folks wearing coats. We stride forth and Issi checks google maps. We walk, it's a warm old day. At some point she says we may be heading in the wrong direction, apple map pins vs google maps. I have no such issues as I'm google all day long, Android baby, come at me Apple devotees. We are looking for something called Meat Busters, our home for the next three days is across the road from it. We amble, note more peeps wearing coats, let traffic pass.

I spot a certain distinctive colour of stone that correlates with the building we'd be staying in. I tell Issi and she's doubtful but we ascend the steps and she fishes out the folded paper bearing the code that grants us access to the entrance lobby. Once inside there's some incongruous jiggery pokery to get our hands on the keys. I shan't go into detail for subterfuge reasons. We get the keys, jump in the lift, and make our way to flat 319. It's compact.

Sweet mezzanine set up, maximising the utilisation of a teeny, tiny space!

We agree it's super cute. I let our host, Zygis, know we've arrived safely and ask for suggestions for places to visit. Issi's straight into the complimentary literature. He shoots back a bunch of stuff we could check out, one of which is a nice park to walk in. I inquire if we can skip, she tells me I can skip if I want, I sink into a brief solipsistic slump, but then I remember there's a ladder to climb! Up I go and snap away whilst Issi gives me a withering look. I share the pics to social media, the only reason anyone does anything, right? We tit about for a bit before conceding to exit the flat asap.

Whilst striding around I place my booted foot next to one of Issi's converse, the size difference is laughable. This would become a recurring joke on the trip. I hydrate, by filling a large cafetiere with water and chugging it in one go. I receive a rare compliment on my apparent endless capacity for fluids. I go all awkward and brush my teeth. We stride out, lock the door, and we're off!

Issi's leading, I'm a stalwart XO. We note the Lithuanian people are very diligent/obedient when it comes to pedestrian crossings. It could be "all clear" and they will wait till they get the go ahead from the electronic overlord. We follow suit, that is until an older lady breaks rank and crosses without the mystical protection afforded by the green man. Emboldened by her example I stride forth, Issi delicately jogs to catch me up. Always makes me laugh to see that dainty little jog. I suspect this act of rebellion is where Issi first mentioned having to explain to my folks, you know for when I inevitably maim/strand myself.

We walk, snap, talk, squint, I put on and take off my sunglasses several times. I suspect this is when we found the Gate of Dawn, we get well in the way of a fella with a heavy duty camera. We spot a likely spot to have a drink, maybe a snack. It's an odd time of day, 15:00 ish. If we have lunch/dinner now whatever will we do for tea/dinner? Snack, we settle on snack, and beer of course. The restaurant is called Medininkai, we opted to dine alfresco as it was the hottest day of the year and who doesn't love alfresco dining?! I'm sat with the sun behind me, and I must've whined a little as Issi tell's me I can switch sides so I too am drenched in sun. I switch sides and we peruse the menu. I'm doing my classic staring at a menu without actually taking it in. She twigs and I double down and actually read the menu. I'm feeling like a salad, mostly as I know the weekend will involve little to no green, leafy veg. Issi tells me her aim is to eat as little greenery as possible. She goes for fried bread with a melted cheese dip, it's on the list!

We opt for a dark and a light beer, I'm dark because... reasons. We swap briefly so we can sample what we could've had. Issi tells me darker beers are usually too rich and would put her straight to sleep. I notice the light through the glasses and have to take a pic. The food arrives, I capture a pic, and we dig in. Salad's good, lightly seasoned, fresh, salad, you know what a salad is! I have major food envy. The fried bread looks mondo delish, luckily Issi is kind enough to share and I break up my salad with bursts of fried bread. There's a mysterious green dust on the board that we can not identify. We finish up and summon up our collective will to move. Oh we settle the bill, I think Issi got this one and I mustered just the tip...

We take pictures of pretty looking religious structures, not entirely sure what they are. Issi see's something and course corrects. I spot a crane with an insane counterweight attached. We walk down through the streets and I spy a dude with a blonde mohawk. Issi's hair is being blown all over the shop, mine stands strong like bamboo against the hail. I suggest she use some of my hair clay, imagine the mohawk she could muster!

We approach the republic, it's now that I say "oh the republic!" Apparently my travel companion had spotted it and diverted us down here so we could have a good ol' tourist around the place. There's a sign it looks an awful lot like this:



First impressions anyone? What kinda republic is this? Come now have a crack, I dare you, I double dare you. My standard offer of a baked good or marriage stands for anyone who gets it right...
Hard line artist, bohemian, easy going vibe. It's here that our understanding of light in photography becomes apparent. One of us gets it the other doesn't, I'll let you decide which of us is which. This place is choc full of things that feel like they warrant a photo. A few steps from the sign, a mermaid, lots of locks, a cool little restaurant bar thing, a chair swing dangling from the bridge itself. There's a brief discussion on what to do, sit down or venture onward, we settle on wandering deeper into the republic.

As we walk we spot a wall dedicated to expounding the virtues of cannabis. here's a snippet for your reading pleasure.

I spot a dog tied up dutifully awaiting his owner. I go give him a fuss, I love most things, but my heart belongs to you canines. Issi tells me I'm possibly the only person who out didn't run out of patience/enthusiasm before Millie did,  fyi Millie's Issi's dog. We wander further and spot the post office, alas it opens again on Monday, by which time we'll be back in the UK. I get briefly bummed out by the idea of returning to regular life. The day is sunny, I'm with one of my all time favourite people, there are sculpted disembodied breasts everywhere! We discuss boob honking noises, why? Because we're in our thirties, British, and holiday, 'nuff said.

Onwards, there's a cool life sized Zebra statue. There's a tiny girl climbing upon it. My fellow traveller turns to me and says her mum loves Zebras. I resist the urge to tell her all about the extinct quagga. Instead I ask, somewhat in jest, if she wants a pic astride the statue. She says yes and hands me her phone. Issi had cannily timed her approach so that it coincided with the little girl vacating the staute. But she returns! Issi stands at a reasonable distance trying not to look too keen, it's all I can do to not burst out laughing at the awkwardness of the situation. Little girl leaves, Issi positively leaps onto the Zebra and beams. I capture the moment, we move on.

There's a whole lot to see and even I with my super human levels of observation/recollection missed tonnes. Streamers made of video tape tape, a tiny free library, a large group of children being talked at.

We walk on and towards a catherdral. It's a big white building, Issi marvels at how they keep it so clean. I stifle my urge to object to it's ostentatious "white pride", let's move on. There's a statue of some fella with a circular timeline around him. We don't read it, later we'd see a little girl using the slight incline as a slide. Around now is when our super hard GY facades crack and we want to find somewhere to sit down. We so old...

As we wander I notice the penis extension is still at the side of the road, any guesses as to what I'm on about? No one, really, OK I'll tell you, it's a red Lamborghini. I stop and snap a pic for my cousin, he's a proper petrol head. I can put on the fake front of a petrol head, you know because of the uber nerdiness. I also spot a bronze wheel of cheese, and if that ain't awesome enough there's a legendary bronze mouse peeking out of the bronze wheel of cheese!

We somehow end up at somewhere called The Portobello, also known as El Clasico. Issi is winding up to sit down, but her plans are thwarted by all the tables bearing a reservation placard/bottle/candle-holder. The return readers amongst you may know what's coming next. My usually unflappably patient, delightful companion begins to rage. It's subtle but the intensity is quite something to behold. We decide to use the facilities and bail, there's only one working bathroom, I dutifully wait outside and spot another bar. I also spot this most excellent sign:



The barmaid asks what we want, Issi picks a half of something light. I ask for a recommendation of something dark and bitter. She pours me three tasters and explains their merits, for the life of me I can't remember what I picked but it was delicious. We wander in and nothing's reserved, up the stairs onto the couch we go. Briefly pausing to cheers, I spill my beer on the couch, and slightly onto my fellow traveller. She shrugs it off, I apologise profusely, and then remember I have a decade old pack of tissues in my coat! Issi beats me to it and pulls a tissue from her bag. I slump down, defeated by the quick draw of my diminutive counterpart.

Issi tells me she's gonna pin all the sights to her map, I nod and carry on drinking. I revel in the oddity of the bar. It's a veritable explosion of British pop culture... it dawns on us we may've found the only "British" pub in Vilnius. We are English and on holiday, why fight the inevitable. We settle in, I rest me arms outstretched along the back couch cushion. I briefly laugh at what his may look like to a casual onlooker. I then hastily explain I'm not trying to put my arm around Issi. She tells me that she knows, I relax, rest my head on my hand, and shut my eyes. I swear I didn't nod off, but she totes thought I did. I awaken and explain I was not sleeping, she doesn't believe me. We idle, sample each other's beers, muster our remaining resolve and leap from the couch. Well, less leap and more stand up whilst making a standing up sound.

An over used bit in stand up comedy spiel:

Q: How do you know you aren't young anymore?

A: You make a sound when standing up or sitting down.

Q: How do you know for sure?

A: Remember when you "just had knees"? If you still "just have knees" then it is my pleasure to confirm you're still a young'un. But if you have a good knee and a corresponding bad knee then your glory days are past you. Settle into your slippers, you know... or cry havoc and walk around European cities with a girl you went to school with.

Back to this particular bout of city based wandering. We wander on from ye olde British pub, via the telephone box exit, and towards something more authentic. But it's Friday night, most places are rammed, we assume with tourists as Issi read somewhere that the locals only head out at around 23:00. We wander on, there's a dog sitting outside a bar, that clinches it. Also this place may've been on a list or other. Issi's leading this trip, I'm just here for the beer, dogs, walking, food, company... holiday, I'm here for the holiday. Just remembered this place has quirky staff, their centrepiece is a dude with a dynamite moustache, he's no where to be seen. We go in and I ask if the bar tender has any recommendations, I think we went for the sweetest thing he could muster and the most bitter. I hand him a note, he hands it back. No change... we scrabble together the exact amount, phew.

Skillfully sourcing some seats outside, we spot a dude and his mate have ordered food, I'm sat ever so close to that dog I mentioned. The dog winks at me. It's temperate, I'm sat outside having a beer with a buddy, there's a dog nearby, I am one happy camper. We drink, talk about how cigarette smoke is synonymous with the drinking experience. Probably because the smoking ban was not in place when we were raging teens. Pubs/clubs smelt of smoke and beer, now they smell of BO, beer, and... let's move on. We drink up and ponder on what to do, we decide to get another drink and sit indoors. There only appears to be one menu and we must obtain it. Two people in the queue have menus, thus dispelling our theory. There are loads of menus next to the till...

Queuing, a word Issi taught me to spell in 2017 whilst we were queuing, the girl in front of us has a a waist that can't be any wider than my neck, I can get my hands around my neck, ergo my hands could encase her waist. A sentiment I express to my fellow traveller, she giggles and says I probs could, but our wires are crossed. She thinks I said her waist, which is also teeny, tiny, believe you me. I wait a moment and explain I meant the waist of the girl in front, mostly because I didn't want my amiga to feel like I was objectifying her. Objectification of strangers is tickety-boo in my book but with familiarity comes... something, subjectification? Answers on a postcard. I immediately fear I've unintentionally drawn a comparison between two tiny waistlines. I now flap, and Issi comes to my rescue, phew, she's cool like that.

The tables have benches, either side. One table has a side free with the other side occupied by a lady, we wave vaguely at the bench on the other side. She nods, maybe waves too. I sit down, Issi goes off to get drinks. There's basketball on. A man appears and joins the lady, they've ordered food. We peruse the menus, I do my trademark staring but not reading the menu manoeuvre. We're stuck in a "How hungry are you?" stand off. I have a hunger that's rarely satiated so I often defer to the judgement to a dining companion, when I'm lucky enough to not be dining alone. Issi knows all about my endless hunger and doesn't want to stifle it. We settle for three things from the menu, opting for the smaller size. That's a whole lotta text with no pics so here's one of the food:

Zeppelin, fried curd cakes, potato pancakes

Now we are at a loss as to where to start, so we go for the one in the middle, curd cakes! They're served with sour cream and some kinda chutney. We are anticipating richness + cutting acidity but it's a rather sweet experience, quite pudding-ish. The return readers amongst you may recall a certain fruit tart that we saved from a brunch meat and cheese platter, assuming it to be a delicious jam tartlet. The pastry turned out to be filled with a very tart sauce, akin to cranberry, we were meant to eat it with the rich meats and cheeses. This time it came to pass we committed the converse culinary faux pas, it dawns on us that we've opened with dessert. We laugh and stumble onwards, I think the zepplin was next, super dense and stodgy, meaty filling, sour cream. Similar with the pancake except it's crisp. Check it all out here: clickety, click

We grab a couple more beers and settle in. Our attention flits between the people and the game, I fight the urge to go on about my days as an exclusively outdoor basketballer, Battlegrounds, anyone? No, sigh, let's move on. Our gaze falls upon a man in an exceptionally tight tshirt. Issi posits he may be an avid cyclist, wearing one of his many cycling jerseys. He has the slender yet muscular physique of a road cyclist. He's well into the game, we vicariously enjoy it through him. As he turns, his face reveals him to be middle aged. I am quite surprised, my fellow traveller is not, she points out his super sweet leather necklace, apparently a dead give away for man hearkening back to his glory days. We observe him as he deftly walks to the bar and back.

To the left we spot a bunch of girls, well ladies, on a night out. They be chatting, paying the basketball hubbub no attention. In walk a bunch of jolly gents, a birthday party, how do I know it's a birthday and not a stag? The main man is wearing a birthday cake hat, at least I think he is. Uber memory ain't what she used to be folks, I'm ever so sorry.  Oh and it could've been the birthday boys double stag/birthday, I admit the two events don't have to be mutually exclusive. The hat is duly hung on a hook, and they dutifully sit down to watch basketball. The mood is approaching new heights of jollity.

I ask Issi if she would join me in erupting with the crowd the next time something eruption worthy happens. She nods, I push our bench back from the table so we don't flip it over with the very vigour of our sudden standing. We dart our eyes between the crowd, screen, each other, stifle laughter. Nothing happens. I really have to pee so I announce that fact and make my way to the bathroom. En route I hear a raucous hubbub. Bah, I may've missed out on a dynamite opportunity to get involved. As I walk back Issi confirms I had missed on such an opportunity, thwarted by my bodily functions. As I sit down we continue with our routine of crowd observation and looking at each other. There's a bit of an eruption, I feel the moment has passed, she concurs.

At this point the couple occupying the other side of the table had left. Two gents approach and wave vaguely, as we had done, at the vacant seats. We gesture accordingly that they are indeed free. They sit down, and one of them checks that they aren't blocking our view of the screen. They aren't, we're both rather heartened by this simple gesture. The two dudes seated across from us proceed to sip their beers, discuss, swap, sip, discuss. Issi leans in and whispers "they're us!" and they are, they've ordered food and eat a little before apparently expressing how good it is. We've found our exclusively male doppelgangers!

Issi's angle on the food, can you guess why I included it?

Did ya guess? It's because of the view of the couple who we sat across from. Not that the two dudes who took their places couldn't have also been a couple. It was approximately at this point that Issi spotted that this was not a live game of basketball, it was highlights! In a fit of indifference we decide to find somewhere else to continue our revelry/people watching. Unrelated question, are all of your familiar with the term butterface?

I forgot to mention I/we were rather taken with a bar bearing the name "Who Hit John", it did devolve into "Who Hit Jeff, Steve, Bob etc." As we arrive they appear to be packing away the seating, winding down for the night. This was clearly in contradiction with the idea that the locals only start their night at 23:00, it was 11ish, we are so hardcore I know. We aimlessly wander, there is a bit of a vibe that we may not be able to find anywhere worthwhile... we snap a pick of the illuminated Church of St. Casimir, and spot a bar with a some free seating outside. Our hopes are set to tepid as it appears that they too are clearing up. I suspect it's so they can shut up shop before a hoard of rowdy locals descend upon the city centre.

Issi sits outside whilst I timidly approach the bar to ask if they are still open. The young woman behind the bar tells me the bar is open. I ask for sweet and bitter, she explains that the bitter beer is super strong and they can only sell it to me in a dainty glass. I nod. I also ask her how to say "cheers" in Lithuanian. She tells me at the speed of regular speech, I don't catch any of it. I smile and ask if she could say that again but a lost slower please. She smiles and says "Į sveikatą!" I repeat it she nods, I pay, she winks and says "Į sveikatą!".

I emerge with drinks in hand, Issi warns me the table is wonky despite being propped up by a teaspoon. I have to take a photo.

Anyone notice the odd greenish tinge?

This pic continues the tradition of kinda including Issi in photos whilst abroad, but not really. The beer is delicious. We chat and some rather jolly locals approach, they sit at a table close by. A group of them is loitering near our table, there's a chair going spare that they totally want to nab. Issi leans in and wishes she knew how to offer it up. In a rare role reversal I get super surly and say "nah, I should claim this chair as a foot stool, maybe take a couple of other chairs, build me a super chair" It is at this point one of the loitering gents steps forward and asks, in impeccable English, if it's ok for him to take the chair. In unison we say sure. I break out in a quiet giggle about the ridiculousness of my faux chair rage. I receive a tres sarcastic "so lairy!" from my counterpart.

At some point Issi nipped away, either to take a pic of the illuminated church across the road, pick a fight, or answer the call of nature. Whilst I sat, not entirely sure what to do with myself, I notice a couple of girls walking out of the venue into the night. One of them blows an odd smelling smoke my way. I don't recognise the aroma. Owing to my... colourful past I know most smoke, or so I thought. She spots me looking confused, gives me a wink before wandering off. For some reason I'm convinced it's angel dust. A fact I share with my flatmate, she smiles and tells me I'm getting all the action in Lithuania, and by action she means winks. Three thus far, question is can you remember the other two?

As the drinks are consumed we observe it's notably colder. Issi's now glad she brought two coats. I'm all sorts of jealous. The conversation wonders, we drink up. Now we walk home, this time she called it home before I did. It's now I note that my travelling companion has become quite the confident navigator, last year it was me with phone in hand, staring at street signs. This year she's effortlessly leading the way like an absolute boss, I smile to myself as my writing brain conjures the word "arc". We briefly take a wrong turn, the streets are deserted, Issi course corrects, we get back to our Vilnius HQ.

There's a brief bathroom kerfuffle, I dive on the grenade, I leave it to your imaginations as to what that all entailed. Issi opted to take the sofa bed, as my crumbly spine may fall apart if I don't sleep on anything other than a mattress. I am wracked with guilt, owing to a combination of mattress commandeering and a story about top bunks, some of you may remember the main bed is up a ladder! There only appear to be one set of sheets. Whilst Issi's brushing her teeth I do a thorough search of all the cupboards, I discover a secret compartment above the stove, any guesses what's inside? Sheets and a duvet, obvs. I chug a litre of water from a cafetiere, she laughs. I adopt the cafetiere as my drinking vessel, in case I get thirsty at night.

She turns off the light and we go to sleep, I awaken around 0400 to pee and gingerly descend the ladder. I managed to get to the last rung in total silence, as I place my weight upon it the ladder creaks. I'm sure I've awoken the eagle eared Issi, I plod to the bathroom. I'm briefly awoken at around 0600 by the bathroom door closing.

And that ladies and gentleman is day one. Anyone care to guess how many words that came in at? Go on treat yourself have a wild, educated, perhaps wildly educated, stab in the dark. Just for me, please, pretty please. Seven thousand words, well done if you got here, you've got some insane reading stamina. Or I'm one helluva writer, my money's on the former.