The Why Not? Blog

At the tender age of 25 Dave started skateboarding. 14 months later he became the first person to skate the length of Britain. Another 8 months on he had crossed Australia on his board, breaking a world record & raising over £20,000 for three charities. Now, at 27, he's writing his first book, is a motivational speaker and a businessman, and he's only just gotten started on a lifetime of challenges which from the outside look just darn crazy. So, why? You know the answer, don't you. Why not?

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

Day 9: Tensions run high

I'm slowing down. My body is slowly wasting away - totally replacing all of the energy I use up each day is impossible - and although I feel fit BFUK is taking its toll mentally. Don't get me wrong, I'm still all there! But mood swings are coming thick and fast as I pound the road second after second, I'm tired and and I ache all over and I'm a grumpy bastard a lot of the time.

First day with new shoes. The first lot (the right one at least) was worn through, so fingers crossed for no blisters.

Drove to the Falkirk road where we ended yesterday and ploughed on. I'm taking ages to get ready and it must frustrate the hell out of Holly and Dimitri. Always losing things, gloves take 30 seconds to get on.

A few miles in we pass through a town called California, and then it seems as though the land empties away. I raise my arms aloft in celebration, it seems as though it's all downhill from here. The first hill is massive. Like riding a giant wave, the wind blew in from the side and my knees soaked up the vibrations from the road, whizzed around a corner at 27.4 miles per hour, awesome!

After yesterdays busy A-road-fest I'd told the others I wanted to avoid main roads where possible. We'd talked through the days route and three wrong turns later I was having to skate along a busy A-road, a detour which added 4 miles to the days total. I was angry. It's mentally exhausting skating on main roads, the surfaces are worse, the blowback from cars flying past at 60mph. It's not unsafe with the support vehicle right behind but the extra distance - added to the fact that now I felt I had to stop at every corner and do the map reading too - seemed so unnecessary.

Mistakes are mistakes, but Holl didn't talk to me for four miles, because I was angry, I suppose. No apologies for the mistake, she just left me for four miles. I took the pavements where possible but couldnt skate the roads because the support vehicle was gone. I was out of water, and I was furious. Effing and blinding under my breath, I walk up a stony unskateable pavement past two teenage lads. Next thing I know my board is being dragged away from me. "Give us this, give us a look" one of them said.

"Let it go" I replied. They kept pulling, I looked up the road for the van, for anyone, for some support. No one. A few seconds later I was running up the hill, board in hand, adrenaline pumping. One of the lads was in a neighbouring field having been pushed over a fence. The other was half looking at his mate, half shouting obcenities at me. Rude little bastards, how dare they!

As you can imagine, this improved my mood. There's no way they would have tried this stunt if the van was with me. I've never been so angry in all my life.

A mile later I collapsed onto the side of the road, exhausted. The van had pulled up behind me and Dimitri got out, filming. Holly got out. I shouted, I screamed. I can't do this by myself, and I had for the last few miles. I was ready to put a rucksack on and go the rest of the way myself.

Plodding on. Plodding on. Mood wanes. VW Dave and Gordon arrive to see the van they donated to us. They bring an orange flashing light and a bigger steering wheel for Holls. Holls gives me cake. We hug. She apologises. I apologise. Thank god. It had been awful.

Dave tells me thousands of VW drivers across the UK are looking out for the van and they're ready to help if we need them. Amazing feeling. It's a lonely road and I can't expect anyone involved in this to fully comprehend how it's effecting me - even I don't know - but the smallest things tilt me in either direction. Mary Thompson's cake, kindly donated on Day 1, plus Dave's enthusiasm for BoardFree - "You've come 285 miles on a skateboard, you're some man!" plus Holly's consiliatory hugs made the rest of the day better.

Brief anger resurfaces after another set of misdirections - this time Dimitri - add another 3 miles to today's route, but I finish the day by rolling downhill into Biggar on the A702 having just passed the 300 mile barrier. 100 miles every 3 days, it's a good target. We park next to a B&B but the landlady doesn't do charity discounts. We walk to a nearby pub and slump against the bar. A group of old men stand to our right, we explain that we're looking for a room. At first, nothing. Then a sparkle in the eye of one of the men. A hatted chap named Jack. He says we could park in his driveway. Brilliant! One of the other men asks if he'll feed us too. He says we can feed ourselves. Two minutes later he offers us a fish supper. Half an hour - and a drink - later we're following his taxi back to his place where he hands us fish and chips and shows us to the nice clean beds where we'll be staying. Jack was 61 and a half, and a gem of a man. He cracked open the red wine - Holly was ordered to make a choice from the plentiful rack - and when that was finished another bottle opened. In the back end of my brain I could see tomorrow becoming difficult, skating hungover is never good! But Jack was fine company, a self confessed pedantic old bastard who said things like "do you want a warm or cold bath" and then you reply either way and he looks over his shoulder saying "oh, so he assumes he's having a bath now...."

A difficult difficult day. So mixed it hurts. All we can say is thank you, Jack.

1 Comments:

  • At 10:40 am, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Sounds like a tiring day - keep on trucking!

     

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