Morocco Part 2: Team IRE On Tour - Day 3

This is the second time I am writing this so forgive me if I'm a little... filled with annoyance.

The day began early, around 0730, giving us enough time to get to Jardin Majorelle before it was brimming with... tourists. We headed out, sans breakfast, to get our garden on. Issi leading the charge, with Ed and I enthusiastically cheer leading.

That's vaguely the route we took that day, if that suffices as narrative then no need to read on. Otherwise, do the thing. The Jardin Majorelle is in the top left corner of the map with our accommodation at Riad El Mamoune to the right. It was a fairly uneventful walk, folk beginning their days. Off to school, work, etc. Waiting for a lift or catching the bus. The last leg of the journey was navigated by spotting a small smattering of tourists heading down a side street, a sure indication of a tourist attraction! We overtake and duly join the back of a short queue, mmm the British in their element. A few folks go rogue and form their own queue, I stare fiercely, the buckle under the pressure of my gaze/realise there's a queue that they'd overlooked. I would later learn that we'd all stared disapprovingly, so alike.

Ed hops forth and gets us tickets, we move off, only to be called back by the ticket lady. She'd mistakenly sold us two tickets when Ed had asked for three. Why? Have a guess! I suspect because one of these things is not like the others, or I was stood slightly further back and she made an assumption based on... reasons.

Once we're in and it's cool, and immediately darker. Again I feel that total disconnect between the city and what's happening here. Ed had told me the previous night how Yves Saint Laurent and Pierre Berge had restored the gardens. There's a monument to the former, that we saw. Lots of big ol' trees and a surprising amount of leaf graffiti!

There's a koi pond, I tell the Holdens how koi are quite gullible and if you wriggle your fingers in the water they'll come and have a nibble. Issi enthusiastically whispers "Do it, do it, do it!" I acquiesce to her request and flap my hand in the water, not before checking to see if the coast was clear. No dice, ignored, rejected, crestfallen, I notice there are small food pellets floating in the water... let's move on.

We find our new favourite game, it's called match the silhouette of the plant on this sign to the plant you can see. I don't have a picture of the silhouette sign so here's an approximation using an actual photo:

Like this but not...

So the sign looked like the pic above, but in line silhouette, with the plants, often, in the exact same place, if you look up from the sign. But sometimes things had changed, plants grew, died, were moved, etc. We got totally confused from time to time till one of us spotted a detail, flower colour, leaves, etc. It also took us much too long to realise that big flowers that appeared to be growing close to the ground were water based lily things, we know what we're doing. Issi declared such and such was here favourite, only for that favourite to be usurped moments later by another favourite. My personal fave was a funky mutant cactus that looked like it had gone all sorts of wrong.

Funktacular right? All sorts of wrong but all sorts of beautiful too. If you get the chance, hit this garden, it's well worth it, take your time, drink it in, wander why you're taking so many photos. Ed came to this realisation and said something along the lines of "in three months, these won't matter". Super emo right? And on holiday. Issi brings up comments against photos, in an album perhaps. A picture speaks a thousand words, but with a little context to get the ball rolling, maybe there's more to be seen, remembered etc.

As we cycle through there's a giant fountain that is solely occupied by pigeons.

I count eight pigeons, you?

Moving round we spot a family on their Tuesday morning get the perfect photos with the kids at this garden trip. They're all impeccably dressed, dad is getting a photo of mum and their daughter, overly elaborate camera rig. I suspect Ed is impressed by the setup and troubled by the intent. The kids look totally nonplussed, they are accessories in their parent's "perfect" online world. Ho hum we move on, or at least we tried to! There are a lot of school kids in the way, Issi surlily pushes past them. Ed and I wait, lose patience, try and push past, only to have the group move in unison in the opposite direction to which we wanted to head.

Party on the left, business on the right?

One more highlight before we exit the garden, the picture on the left was physically to the right of the picture on the right. Does that make sense? We build a little story about the smaller more orderly cacti are kids pretending to behave, whilst the more wayward cacti are teens cutting loose. Or adults indulging in some next level cactus orgy, the likes of which should totally be blurred out before the watershed. We exit and hit the street. As we do there is a massive queue waiting to get in, turns out our intel was right, arriving mid morning as a basic chump move. A wave of smugness washes over us, ha tourists!

We're on a breakfast mission, we check out a few spots, nothing is really breakfasty so we walk towards the main square. If you go back to the map it's the big straight line from Jardin Majorelle to Medina, probably not quite that straight but close. En-route we see a few likely places, but none are quite right. Then we come across the somewhere that claims to have the highest rooftop in the area, no brainer. The hefty staircase backs up this venue's claim to being the highest rooftop in the area! At the top there's some seating and a few dudes behind the bar. They see us but don't make any move to engage, so we sit down. Shortly afterwards a couple walk in, grab menus, and sit at the opposite side of the roof. I follow suit and deftly grab two food and one drinks menu, smooth af. I get an avocado juice, and we go for two khlea omelettes, and a cheese omelette. Khlea I would later find out is also knows as Morocco's mystery meat...

A gaggle of older ladies huff, puff, and stumble their way in. Ed laughs loudly, outrageous flirt that he is. I forgot to bring up an archaic law of Morocco, no building can be taller than the palm tree. Except mosques, for... reasons. I spotted a fair few palm trees that were taller than the rooftop we were on, they could totally go up another foot. Now that we're fed we feel up to the challenge of touristing that lay before us.

Like father like daughter...

Just like that we are hurtling into the centre of Marrakesh yet again, passing through the square was less of an ordeal this time. Either they recognised us, or we got a little accustomed to it. We're heading straight for El Badii Palace. As we approach I recognise the colour of the stone and the walls, this is stork country. I leap forth and buy tickets and hand them out, only to realise the ticket check guy is right there, and I had just trebled his ticket tearing workload. I apologise, he smiles and waves us on. We haphazardly walk towards this:

Stork central right?

It's big, imposing, defo gives off the vibe that someone was compensating for something... Ed steps over a collapsed chain that a man is trying to repair, get's called back, almost falls, recovers. We walk around, up some stairs and are a little winded. The consensus is that it's hotter than yesterday. We read the smattering of boards, sit in a little cinema room, perhaps, or I'm getting mixed up with another day. Then I spot some red dragonflies! The Holdens are not on board with my insectoid enthusiasm.

Not great but I did almost get down on my knees to get this shot...

A hop, skip, and jump, and we're out of El Badii. We need lunch, well we need a sit down. So we find a likely restaurant and head upstairs, it's opposite Kozybar, where I had celebratory last night beers post Toubkal in May! Once we arrive we are lead to the terrace and settle for some juice, veggie tagine, and a traditional chicken and noodle dish. I forgot to mention last time that the terraced restaurants in Marrakesh have a misting sprinkler system to cool you down. This one had a particularly erratic, jazz rhythm to their delivery. This led to us hanging out for the next spritz... I started doing some chair based, shoulder only chair dancing, Issi bursts out laughing, not at my dancing, but at her being so out of it she joined in on the shoulder dance trend I was trying to start.

Orange trees, kicking it in the El Badii courtyard

The food took a while to arrive but we got some freebies while waiting, very nice. The staff were great, the portions generous and generally a good time. We eat up, settle up, and ship out. Onwards to Bahia, but it's a little late to see the whole palace so we try the Jewish cemetary.

That may sound odd but the city is famous for having two populations of strongly religious communities living in close proximity, with no enmity. The old fellow at the admission desk glances at his watch as we hand him our donation. And we're off, Issi and I one way, with Ed forging his own path. It's jarring, a place of such peace in the centre of the city. Similar to the other places we've visited in it's separateness but totally different too. Two dogs give me a brief uplift from how heavy the atmosphere is, they are very chill and don't really want anything to do with me. The graves towards the entrance are unmarked, but as we walk through there are some with names, dates, details. One with a photo, the children's section is another level of sombre. Walking through we meet back up Ed, he'd done a perimeter sweep. We saw a large building, perhaps Rabbi's resting place. Circling back round, we spot some graves have small stones placed on them, we wander what the significance is. Before long we are back at the entrance. Time to leave, the old fellow is no where to be seen, we are the last people there.

The plan is to head back home, refresh, perhaps a swim, then hit town for a nice dinner. Swift walk back, easy peasy. We see some kids playing after school sport, very nostalgic. Once back we grab some water, shoot the breeze a bit, before deciding to split up, freshen up, and re-converge. I hand washed some clothes, stretched, showered, changed, laid down, and sprung down stairs. We're looking sharp, especially Issi's stripy trousers. And we're off into the night, with no water bottles, radical. En-route we see people gathering on the grass verges on the side of a main road, odd but also very picnic-ish. We see an old fella lovingly holding onto a small tree, so gentle.

It get's a little twisty, through some less well to do areas. I occasionally spot slim young man transporting larger middle aged ladies on scooters, boys giving their mother's a lift! We pass a homeless fellow, struggling with some issues, onward. Then there's something I've never seen before, at the side of a busy road a lady is spinning thread from thinner threads!

It's attached near where we're standing and she's towards where the motorbike is! Before long we're at Naranj, a friendly man asks if we have a reservation, we do not, he says we'll have to wait 45 minutes, I'm game but the Holdens eat at normal times, and have a concept of time, it's already a little later than we'd hoped to be out for. Walking back Issi spots a likely dinner venue, Un Dejeuner a Marrakech, we walk in and ask if we can sit upstairs. The smiley lady behind the counter asks us if we can wait whilst she makes a call. We chill as she's speaking with the terrace, a group walk in, a family by the looks of it with their guide. Once she's done with the call she shakes the guides hand, they chat, laugh, and are dealt with. We feel a little left out, but she apologises and says we can sit downstairs if we like. We do but not before awkwardly moving two tables together.

The menu looks good, we decide on a shared starter, burger for the lady, two variations on candied beef for the gents. The front of house boss lady returns to tell us we can sit on the terrace if we like, and apologises for moving us! We are very happy to be outside, up high, in the breeze, and thank her. Once sat down I spot a noteworthy cactus structure.

Any guesses why I had to take a picture?

We order, a little confusion about the shared starter but it's sorted. All rather tasty, smoky thing is my fave, Ed loves the sweet thing:

One that's right at the top. Sounds rather tasty right?

We demolish it and our mains arrive. The star situation is not great but it's a city, light pollution kills the night's sky. There's a brief quiz about which mosque is which, I'm confident we got nothing right. The mains are good, we mention how we're a little out of place here. Fine dining-ish establishment. We all stick with our mains, offering options to try with zero takers. Issi is struggling to finish as they've been very generous with her "homemade potatoes". Once we'd finished I spotted a waiter beelining for our table to clear it, as he did so Ed and I both reached for Issi's plate to help with the "homemade potato" situation. He stopped, heel turned and went about his business. The "homemade potatoes" were good! We grab some teas and coffees before settling up and heading home.

The walk back is more or less the walk there, but in reverse. Issi's navigating is on point. Lots of people still chilling on the grass near the main road. A young man is wearing almost identical stripy trousers to Issi. We are back home, chilling like some villains. We hang for a bit, I eat my last Kind bar, decide to get up a little later, and head to bed.

Team IRE on tour, day 2/3 complete!

Feel the fury!

Morocco Part 2: Team IRE On Tour - Day 1 and 2

I didn't write up my inaugural trip to Morocco, mostly because it was such a blur of activity, the likes of which my body had never known. My body has now known that level of activity at least once since, possibly twice. Less dawdling Myooran/Ron and more "day one..."

Day one

Arriving well early for the flight as the last time I flew I was literally the last one on the plane. Parking was a doddle, I did make eye contact with a lady and her mother whilst putting my belt back on, post having to take it off for the metal detectors, they had to throw away my sun cream! I grabbed a Guinness, a sandwich, and sat at gate 55, waiting for it to open. The gate was changed at the last minute, the priority boarding queue was longer than the regular queue!

Let's jump to landing in Marrakesh, it's warm, a balmy 20 something degrees celcius. I hop on the airport wifi, drop Issi a message about my whereabouts, and head for the exit. Badr is waiting for me, airport pickup/drop off, he compliments my pronunciation of his name and asks if I speak Arabic. I tell him I learnt three words/phrases. "Hello", "thank you", and "let's go", apparently the only three phrases you need in any language. He grabs the number of our Airbnb host and gives him a ring, there's some confusion between the one company knowing me as Ron and the other knowing me as Myooran, that old chestnut... We chat and before we know it arrive at the accommodation, a gated community, and are waved through by security. After some wrangling in Arabic by Badr.

Pulling up to block G5, Badr and I part ways. I message Issi, ignoring Badr's suggestion to call her, her reply reads "ok I'm here" I see a petite silhouette at the end of the row of front doors. Approaching we wave and I'm ushered inside, and informed Ed has headed to the gate to fetch me. It transpires that our Airbnb host had rang them immediately after speaking to Badr, near the airport, and told the Holdens that I was at the front gate, I wasn't even close.They'd sent Ed as it had been a bit of a kerfuffle to gain access to the gated community, but they didn't have Badr on their side!

We chat for a bit but it's past midnight and there's a lot on Ed's Marrakesh list, so Issi goes to bed and we follow suit.

Day Two

I noticed voices, the father daughter duo were up and I hopped in the shower, freezing, meditated, and joined them downstairs. The plan was breakfast, followed by a wander into the city, through the tanneries. We were well versed in the various scams etc that tourists were targeted by. This road's closed, follow me, etc. As we exit our riad Ed feeds the fish, we have fish! And then I'm introduced to one of several cats Ed has befriended.

Ladies and Gentlemen - Moped Cat

Over breakfast we discuss where to go, what to do, who to ignore, etc. Ed attracts more cats. Breakfast is quite the spread of tea, coffee, flat bread, omelettes, juice, pastries, jam, honey, oil, butter, and dairy lea style cheese. All for the low low price of 30 dirhams, about £2.50! Ed expounds his new found love of mint tea, but it has to be sweet aka mint honey. Turns out we are not all that skilled when it comes to keeping honey off our hands, legs, etc. So the executive decision is made to head back home, we're all calling home, and hose ourselves down.

Freshly hosed down we get this show on the road and head out to the tanneries.

That's vaguely what day two looked like, walking wise.

The southward line from Riad El Mamoune is how we began. Walking down we smell the unmistakable aroma of goat/sheep/lamb. A smell we all enjoy but this was in a concentration that almost made me grimace. Entering a tannery we are immediately taken in by a kindly local man, he hands us some mint, in case the smell becomes too much. I missed what the mint was for and thought it was a visual aid to reinforce the idea of mint being used to dye skins green. He explains a few things about how pigeon guano, mint, etc. are used to dye the skins, then we're led to another site. En-route we are shown how machines are used to process big skins. At the other site chemicals are used, dudes are knee deep in the stuff. Issi is led up to a balcony, so she can get a photo. Ed and I awkwardly wait downstairs.

Reunited we are led to a shop, we browse but buy nothing. The energy of the shop was great, no fast talking salesmen, no pressure, no muss, no fuss. Our "guide" directs towards the square and then asks for a some money, I give him exactly how much he asked for. Not the frugal move the Holdens were going to make...

Onwards, I think we wandered for a bit before stopping to grab a juice, perhaps a snack. Heading straight for the terrace we are greeted by a friendly fellow who asks if we're American, and tells me I remind him of a certain William "Fresh Prince" Smith. I shrug it off as I do not do well when complimented. Issi and I opt for fruity snacks and juices, Ed goes for a caramel crepe, and I want to say another mint tea. I also befriend a tiny spider.

Tiny spider, about the size of three money spiders.

This social butterfly would visit all of us before disappearing in the Moroccan ether. We finish up, settle the bill, forget to grab another bottle of water, and head out. There was also a welcome, if brief, interaction with some fellow British travellers. After some good natured chat one of them issued a threat to all would be muggers, tricksters, "guides", informing them to come and have a go if they think they're hard enough, she's from Scotland! I should mention that we've all got those metal flask bottle thingies. But we're buying bottled water to refill them thus not having that environmental impact that we so crave. Also Ed's has House Stark direwolf heads adorning it, Eddard Holden!

We are rather close to the Ben Youssef mosque and madrasa, we somehow manage to miss the school and the mosque. We stumble upon Le Jardin Secret, and head in. They hand us some information leaflets post ticket purchase.

Like father like daughter, two peas in a pod!

Picking ourselves up before we slump till the end of time, we walk on, a short was. Before Ed and I stare up at the nuts from a particular tree. We play ball and keep our identical postures whilst Issi takes a picture. I erroneously identify the tree as a young baobab, and riff on the idea that that could be here after all current civilisation crumbles, they have been observed to live for 2,500 years. We wander, read, stare, snap.

It's all rather lovely and peaceful. The discussion goes that if we did live in a bustling city like Marrakesh then we'd want to do it somewhere like here. Spacious, peaceful, personal turtle pond. But it does bring back idea that wealth buys you distance from poverty. There are people struggling to get by outside these walls but once you're inside you'd never know. Predictable move on my part I know, bringing it to a heavy place. We move on.

Why's this here?

We loop round but not before we see this rather interesting fountain:

We swing by the turtles once more and make our way to the exit. I should mention that we did a fair bit of Souk wandering throughout the day. They are not mapped well and once you're in one up is down, left is right, but not always, sometimes left is north west. But Issi makes it look easy and we get out and stumble into the main square. Where we set about the serious business of purchasing some juice. There are a lot of juice stands, practically identical, next to each other. The only thing separating them is the razzmatazz of the sales folk. We settle on one at the end but not before the guy next to it tries to split our group. We decline. He then goes on to shout abuse at us, an interesting sales gambit that proved unfruitful #CallingSomeoneHitlerRepeatedlyDoesNotMakeThemWantToBuyFromYou

I opt for kiwi juice and our juice salesman has to borrow a kiwi from the shouty one we didn't pick.

Copy and paste Feat Ed Holden

With our juice in hand we wander over to one of Ed's favourite mosques, it definitely made his top five. Koutoubia, it's hefty, imposing, impressive, there's a digital sign explaining how many kwh of power have been produced by the cities solar array. Circling left we spot a construction site, expansion perhaps. There are lots of holes in the walls, I posit they are for pigeons, like dovecots back in the UK. The Holdens are not convinced.

Disposing of our empty juice cups in an overflowing bin, we head across the road to a restaurant with a terrace. Issi and I opt  for a beer Ed's on the juice wagon. I wanted a speciale flag, but they were all out, so we doubled up on Casablanca. We would sit there for a few hours where I felt I talked a little too much. We go through 3 big bottles of water and may've sat through the gap between their lunch and evening service. Thoroughly conversationed out Issi suggests we hit the square before Sky bar to catch the sunset. Square wandering becomes quite fraught, the food stalls are up and with them come salesmen of next level aggression. Right up in your face pushing menus, chatting nonsense. One stood out as my favourite. A young slim lad, leans in and tells me I look good, but too skinny, I need to eat something quick.

We push through and hit the street that should be a straight shot to Sky bar at the Renaissance hotel. If you go back to the map it's the big north westerly line that ends at the hotel. Sunset is in about 45 minutes, it should take 35 minutes to walk there. So we saunter along at quite a brisk but leisurely pace. As the sun dips in the sky, hitting the top of the buildings, throwing shadows, we realise that we may have cut this a little too fine. Issi increases the pace, we keep up, I push on a little faster, then faster still. The road just seems to keep on going. Issi spots a cafe called Les Negociants. Crossing the street we burst into the hotel and I think we must've stared at the staff super intensely. We are instructed to use the lift through some saloon doors. A couple is exiting the lift as are entering, we write a brief fictional history for them that they had just watched the sunset and were off to gallivant around town. Up we go and there's a set of stairs before we get to the top, there's a table in the corner with a view of the setting sun. Mission accomplished.

I get a round in, mostly because this was my idea and I'd made the Holdens all but run here in 30 degree heat. I opt for a speciale flag again, only to be told it's sold out! One day... We sit sip, I grab photos of the setting sun. A couple of Aussie girls come stand too close to our table so they can watch the sun set. Once it'd set we sit and chat, partly because it's a nice location, partly so we can recover a little after the speed walk.

Not bad eh? We drink up, settle our tab, and head out. I had mentioned that I'd pinned a restaurant last time. Lots of good reviews, I had no further details. For all the power of my uber memory, it doesn't do requests. We arbitrarily decide to go there, the Marjorelle district. It's getting darker and apparently I didn't slow down, keeping a similar breakneck pace all the way there. We passed a lot of street food vendors, and we end up where Dar Yacout should be. It's not there. We are approached by a young man, who tells us they always close on Mondays and Tuesdays. Even if they were open you can only go in with a reservation, and even then the average cost is 700 dirhams per person, about £60.

He tells us there is a nice place to eat nearby, I can see it on the map, and just like that we have another "guide". Less than five minutes and we are at Riad Amina. We've picked up one of our "guide's" friends, they want payment, I hand Ed a 20 to give them. They tell us it's too much, I get all heartened, it turns out they meant it's not enough. The boss lady at the Riad looks ready to shut the door on them, an old fellow appears and starts arguing on their behalf. Ed settles it, like the elder statesman he is. And we are ushered in to the dining room. It's a classic courtyard but this one has a glass domed roof. We are given menus Ed goes for a lemon chicken tagine, Issi goes for a chicken pastilla, and I opt for the sweet chicken tagine.

We chat and realise that the glass roof is greenhousing the rooms temp right up. I arbitrarily mention I want to do a half marathon. Issi says I could run with here on the one she's doing next September, I shrug it off as I don't think I'll ever be able to keep pace with the long distance powerhouse that is Issi Holden. I've set myself the deadline of April 2020, and now it's in writing. A little more long distance talk and Ed regales us with how Nephew Oliver once ate three dinners: Mcdonalds, Pizza, and then fish and chips!

The food arrives and it's outstanding, sweet savoury, seasoned well, tender chicken, my compliments to the chef and even the "guide" who brought us there. We chat, sip water, see some residents of a riad arrive etc. We settle up and head out but not before planning a route. The loose idea is to hit a main road then taxi it back. It's a little twisty, dark, and the area whilst not run down was not the shiny face that the city presents. I apparently maintained my killer pace, unintentionally. And we find a taxi! But it's already got customers. We walk on and before we know it we're at the Pizzorno depot, close to home. Spirits lifted I intentionally slow down and we saunter back.

Tired we buy some water and hit the hay, a classic holiday, Team IRE on tour.

ARUK Explorer 2019

Once more unto the breach, dear friends…

 

Bit much I know but I have a penchant for the dramatic, and a penchant for using words like penchant. But that’s besides the point, the point being so I can write down a few too many words about a short walk, in the countryside, I did with a friend, last Saturday.

 

It was the inaugural Alzheimer’s Research UK, ARUK, Explorer hike, 26 miles across the peak district. We’d signed up in August, and started fundraising at the beginning of September. I would later find out that some folks were such prolific raisers of funds that they had achieved the minimum £250 target before we had even started to raise funds!

 

It’s 06:00, on the 21st of September, and I’m picked up by Ed and Issi, the I and E in team IRE, the more deductively inclined amongst you may have realised that that makes me the R in this sandwich made with Holden bread. We’re all in fine spirits and after some brief sat nav wrangling set off. It’s a quiet drive to Carsington water. There’s a brief “which car park should we park in confusion” but it passes and we chat with Ed about celebratory beers before heading off to registration.

 

All registered and numbered up, I was 52 and Issi was 62, this would later prompt discussion on how numbers were allocated. The bus slowly fills up and we’re off to Bakewell, little confusing I know. But the order of events is:

• Register at Carsington Water
• Bus to Bakewell
• Walk back 26 miles to Carsington Water
• Prosecco
• Dinner
• Celebratory beer/s

 The bus journey feels long, and we both get sleepy, luckily we’re there before we have a chance to nod off. We’re given a safety briefing and told that we should always be within eyeshot of a white arrow with a red background, on the route we are following. That’s right, they’ve been so thorough as to signpost every part of the course!

Around the first bend...

We are the last lot to set off and stride through the pack. All’s well till we hit and incline, “bit steep” was the consensus, but it evens out. A little slippery underfoot here and there but it’s a cracking day, apparently the last weekend of good weather this year. We are setting our pace by an older gent who is just ahead of us. Sturdy like an oak tree is how I would describe him. Before we know it we’ve covered 9.5km, or 5.9 miles, and made it to the first pit stop.

Pretty sure this was before the first support point...

We are greeted by enthusiasm from the ARUK folks and offered tea, coffee, snacks! I have a tea and briefly consider the milk situation. I had put on an extra challenge for myself, see how far I can go fasted. I had stopped eating at 21:00 the previous night. The tea is piping hot and there’s no way I could drink it quickly without the cooling effects of milk… We stop for a bit, gather ourselves, have a bit of banter with “sturdy like and oak tree” man. And set off. Well we tried but we weren’t sure which way to go. So we ineffectually spun around glancing here and there, a ARUK volunteer with a beagle kindly pointed us in the right direction.

Sounded much larger, thoughts?

We’re off and before long it looks like we are lost, but the presence of a paramedic reassures us we are not. On we go, we walk behind a couple of girls blasting The Greatest Showman soundtrack, overtake at some point and see our “sturdy like an oak tree” talisman. We overtake him too and blast on. We’re told it’s 5km to lunch, it’s around 11:30 and Issi makes a move on the ploughman’s sandwich she’d packed. We get a few “lunch is just around the corner” jibes, shrug them off, motor on. Better that than a hangry Holden...

It’s around 13:00 and we roll in to where lunch is being served, we are met by cheering and applause from the volunteers. Sandwiches, crisps, chocolate, juice, tea, coffee. Lovely spread, I decide to break fast with a cheese and chutney sandwich. We’d had a brief chutney discussion that likely influenced my decision. Sitting on the grass eating sandwiches, very easy to switch off and forget why you’re there. But we gather ourselves, pop to the bathroom, I make it back to the lunch tent before Issi, I cut through the carpark. She approached down the trail prompting a second round of applause, they recognise her and burst into laughter.

We’re off and after a while the nutrients kick in, I speed up, Issi keeps up no problem. We have to dodge oncoming and overtaking bikes. Bit of a faff but we weather this particular storm, of bikes. I think I spot Ian Curryer, the Chief Exec of Notts City Council. The discussion moves to yoghurt, and how neither of us has had a yoghurt in a while. Issi remembers she’s got a black cherry yoghurt carb gel. I admit I have a bunch of now out of date carb gels at home.

We keep on trucking, and I didn’t let on at the time but I am feeling it. Not so much tiredness but pain in my hip adductors aka inner thighs. I spot a few people milling about and we wonder if there’s a pitstop, there appears to be a portaloo, there is a pit stop! We stop and spot people we’d passed filtering in, one of them exclaiming they shan’t sit down till they’re done! I fill up my water, down a few crisps, energy bars, and we’re off again.

I overhear that it’s the longest stretch between support points, 12km. Issi picks up the pace setting and we start overtaking people again. As we go I notice the pain in my legs hasn’t gotten worse, #PainPlateau. We pass a lady going solo and walk with her a bit. She’s surprised she has made it this far, and asks how much further, I glance at my watch and suggest that as it’s been about an hour, we should be about halfway between support points. Her and Issi discuss how this is the last stretch, but the longest. We wish her luck, tell her we’ll see her at the finish, and push on.

It is now that our egos get a little out of control, we are finding this easy. Well not fall out of bed do it every day easy but not struggling like we have on previous challenges. We joke about how to feign that extra level of exhaustion. Alas the fall that follows any occurance of pride was not far away. We descend a very steep grassy area, complete with paramedic, thus confirming the danger. I creep down but it’s over soon enough and there are some roots that have formed into steps with years of use.

Something smells wonderful, sandalwood is burning somewhere. And we’re on a road and shortly met by what I assume to be a family of volunteers. One of the kids is handing out jelly babies, and the man is pointing us left, he tells us we are close. And so the fall begins.... We carry on buoyed by being so close to the end.

Hobbiton-esque, right?

We turn down paths, I spot a lady with the same boots as me, and then we are met with a view of the water, Carsington Water! We must be super close, we both exhale a breath of relief and relax. As the path winds on we are following one side of the body of water. There’s uphill, downhill, some flat bits. The struggle is real now, I suspect we were fine physically but mentally we’d finished before crossing the line. So we shuffled on, it hurt. Then we were overtaken by a couple, super fit by the looks of it, practically jogging ahead of us. And with that the short lived ego inflation was gone for good.

But we keep going, I push the pace a little, and we recognise buildings from when we registered that morning. There’s an inflatable finish line, gate, thing. We are applauded, cheered, I had to take my hat off so they could bung a medal on me, and some icy prosecco to finish it off. It took us 8 hours and 40 minutes, and we were well and truly done. I pick up my shirt, and have a quick chat with one of the organisers. We go in search of dinner. Not before a fella asks me about where I got my hat, amazon, cheap as chips.

We made it...

We grab some grub, wolf it down, and spot some people finishing who we’d passed, spotted throughout the day etc. We go grab a pint, and I convince Issi to stretch a little. It hurts. We take a pic with medals, pints, and my paper number. The wind duly claims the number and blows it off the upstairs deck, into a gutter! It becomes quite obvious that tiredness, slight dehydration, little food, and alcohol, lead to feeling buzzed off two drinks. The bar is closing, but the lovely lady who tells us gives us some plastic cups so we can keep enjoying our refreshing beverages. I switch from hat to 7 in one scarf, balaclava, headscarf, thing. I look like a pirate, one the them south asian pirates!

My irretrievable number!

We head downstairs to cheer on people who are finishing. As we sit down I spot “sturdy as an oak tree” man, he’d finished and was proudly wearing his orange ARUK Explorer tshirt. We clap, turns out we both use the same loud clapping technique. We see a couple break down in tears, people who were really struggling, make it back, very moving. They had given it everything, and I imagine for a lot of them this is a very personal cause. We are offered more prosecco and I accept.

Ever wondered what a pint of prosecco head looks like?

We head off to find Ed, he’s due back soon. As we walk back to the car park we spot families having picnics, someone firing up a bbq, it’s a lovely day, even if we are a little worse for wear. Issi get’s a call from Ed, he’s parked. But we’re not entirely sure where in relation to us he is. Issi describes what she can see and he can see the same, he waves, she spots him, we walk back the way we’d come.

We chat, Ed had brought along some rather delicious looking beers. I opt for the stout and realise, again, that I am flying high. We all crack a beer and shoot the breeze. Tales of Jenn’s cake victories, Nephew Olivers too, and how Ed could’ve totally done this walk. He pops to the gents and I open my delicious but dry “Kind” bar. Issi insists I need another beer, the only option is the strongest one left…

This is where my original write up stopped, but as is the way I felt I didn't quite get down what I wanted to. Mostly the enthusiasm of all the ARUK volunteers, staff, etc. They were upbeat, supportive, around odd corners! They were wielding jelly babies, encouragement, directions, pom poms, and general good vibes. The event was super organised and I have since heard that a total of £41,000 has been raised so far.

 If you can please donate, so we can make breakthroughs happen: https://www.justgiving.com/teams/IRE2019

But there's more to the story, namely the car journey home, whilst I am ever so merry. Chatting away fuelled by prosecco, beers, and not much else I was flying high. Ed had set the sat nav for Issi's, which is less than a mile away from where I live. He was banking on my ability to navigate Nottingham, I am OK with directions, but I was rather under the influence at this point. But I managed to latch onto a few landmarks and realised we were approaching from the North East via the A610. The consensus in the car was that I may or may not know where we were.


To prove I was totally able to navigate the area I predicted a KFC after the next round about. Question is was it there folks? Cast your votes.... The KFC was indeed there, I was feeling smug. Ed busts me out of my smugness by declaring "Ron, can navigate Nottingham by takeaways!" A slight but one that may very well be true. I also vaguely tell Ed he needs to turn right at some point, the distance between the KFC and right turning always feels longer that I think it's going to be. This fills Ed and Issi with a fresh draught of doubt. When will they learn? As we approach a set of lights I instruct Ed to enter the lane that's furthest right, we make the abled vague right, make it to the big old roundabout I live near and am dropped off. Hands shaken, hugs exchanged, the next time we'll see each other is in Marrakech. I now have to go and appear sober in front of my parents, a feat I achieved, I think.

Couldn't quite get it all...