The Last Post

The great W. C. Fields said, “If at first you don’t succeed, try again. Then quit. There’s no point in being a damn fool about it.”

When I set out on the first leg of my ambitious journey, full of optimism and with a tailwind of support from so many, I realized that it would test my stamina... indeed, that was one of the goals.

I also carried the wise advice of my friend Isobel to “listen to my body”. Well, I’d have to be stone deaf not to hear its message.

3,500km from home, the pain in my neck (already reported) moved to my chest and increased day by day. I freely admit I was scared and accelerated my return. The delights of places like Asturias and San Sebastian, were wasted on my physical and mental state.

In Bordeaux, an angry rash enabled diagnosis and treatment of “shingles” (herpes zoster, the return of chicken pox). In one way this is a relief, but it’s agonizingly painful, and a clear sign that my immunity is not strong enough to take this kind of travel.

What seemed like a great idea looking forward, now feels like a big mistake. So, with regrets, and apologies to all you followers, I’m abandoning the big plan.

I’ll just have to find another way to live to the full... as another great man said, “Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans.”

From one extreme to another

From Genoa to Gibraltar there are very few “unspoilt” parts of the coast of Europe. I was lucky to enjoy the Camargue, the Ebre Delta and Cabo de Gata, but otherwise most of the countryside is covered in plastic, and most of the coast is covered in property.

But once you join the Atlantic, there is what you might call a “sea change”. It’s not exactly wilderness, but everything is more wild, natural and dramatic. Settlements have more character. The balance between man and nature is more wholesome.

And the extremes are really extreme. Within a few days I stood on the southernmost and westernmost points of mainland Europe. From Tarifa (Spain) you can clearly see the mountains of Morrocco, and from Peniche (Portugal) you can see New York, almost.

A pain in the neck

After spending April Fool's day searching Montpellier for an orthopedic doctor, and consulting with Jo at mission control, I decided to press on quickly down the coast of Spain to Fuengirola. 

My cousin Pat and hubby Brynne retired here long ago, and they helped me access a brilliant private healthcare system which at least established no serious problem. Although the Costa del Sol didn't live up to its name, we had lots of sunshine when talking about the old times, visiting nearby Mijas and exploring every imaginable type of bar and restaurant.

I missed out a lot of Spanish coast, but I hear that Portugal is in need of a bail-out, so I'll press on and see if I can contribute a few euros!