It's Superglue, Don't You Know?

Hello Friends!

Thank you to all of you in our lovely online community who made the time for me, who read and then to share your kind and generous words and thoughts of support after my last post, especially to the many of you who unexpectedly contacted me privately.  It seems I voiced the fears and concerns shared by so many of us, and remember we are not alone. Together we can get through this. To those of you who said this helped, then it has made my effort very worth the while. 

I must add a caveat.  If you think you need professional help, seek it. Ask. Phone someone, anyone, talk it out, or call your GP or the Samaritans.  Don't suffer in silence.

I am continuing to rebuild my strength for walking, but am starting to wonder if I will ever make it out on to my beloved coast path again, for it is so hard on my knees and back. I am not complaining, I am, for once in my life, being sensible and looking after myself.  It's not so much the up and down, but the rocky rough patches, the loose stones, and the uneven stretches that give me cause for concern. Distracted by a view, a flower, or a bird, it's oh! so easy to turn your ankle, or slip on a stone you didn't see. As we get older, simple injuries seem to be easier to come by, and take oh! so much longer to heal.  I know that the paths are very different from the last time I traversed them. Bits have fallen off into the sea, and general errosion from countless pairs of feet pounding along has taken it's toll on some sections.  A bit like me!  Time will tell.  I promise I will not do anything rash and will proceed cautiously. 

The stretch of path where this was taken no longer exists.  It has slid into the sea for eternity to be but a memory.

It's been over five years since I did any serious coast path hiking.  I did get out on a short stretch in 2019, which I documented here, and paid the price, for the very next day I woke up with a bad back, angry and aggravated from the uneaven and stony ground I'd traversed.  The pain lasted a week. Why, in one spot the access had become so erroded I found no visible track and I had to slither down on my bottom! Most undignified, and I hope no one saw me.  This is why I say the path will be different from what I remember it was.

I found myself typing a version of this, the other day:

I love where I live, and where I live is the glue that holds me together.

or, as my lovely Twitter friend Kim replied to it when I shared my words with some photos on Twitter, "that's what I call super glue!" and it's the title of this blog, so Thank You, Kim! 

I have been looking through old photos, there's so many happy memories of days out and about, and until such time as I can get properly out and about again, here are a few of my favourites.

Gorse in full bloom

Gorse looking along the Coast Path

Coast Path view

A lovely day for a hike or a sail along the bay

A bucolic landscape

A welcome spot to rest a while

An early sea fog begins to settle along distant islandss

A golden glow as the sun sets to the west

Across the fields

Meadow, sea, and sky

One of my favourite seats to take a spell

and the view from that seat {fantastic vantage point}

Thrift with barbed wire

The setting sun at close of day

And here are a few taken this week.  The weather, although chilly, is dry and gloriously sunny.  I can live with that, especially as I'm not a fan of the heat anyway.  I'm not going far, still doing baby steps, but going further each time I feel I can add some more in.  I met a lovely couple, we stopped for a socially distanced chat, they told me where they were heading.  They've a long day on the coast path hiking in front of them, about nine miles.  Should take about five hours if they don't stop, but it all really depends on how much time you spend taking in the majesty and splendor of the views.  Oh, to do that again.

Until next time

Stay Safe, Stay Well