**Mossdogg. Philosophy, Spirituality and**

**Extreme Travel: _'How I Walked from England to Greece.'_**

Copyright © 2016 by MossDogg

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

First Printing: 2017

ISBN 978-1-326-84556-8

MossDogg Publishing House (Lulu)

Anywhere I Roam

NFA

**Dedication**

This book is dedicated to my family, who have always been there for me and given their love and patience time and time again. Without their help, this book would not have been possible. Thank you.

This book is dedicated to my friends, with whom I live and I learn, sharing interests and passions. Without my friends, life would be a drab place indeed! Thank you.

This book is dedicated to everyone who has helped me along the road. Everyone who waved, everyone who chatted with me and everyone who dropped a coin in my hat or some food in my hands. Without you, I would not have got very far at all! Thank you.

This book is dedicated to the Universe, who always knows just what I need even when I don't. Thank you for all the beauty and the emotions of the world, thank you for all there is to learn, thank you for change. Thank you for me.

**Synopsis**

I am MossDogg. I am a free thinker and traveller. I have been travelling off and on for 15 years so far and have visited many countries and seen many things. I still know nothing however!

This is the story of my latest and most epic journey in which I walk to Greece from my parents flat in Eastbourne, England. I had to take a ferry from Dover to get to France but other than that, it was entirely on foot–no hitch hiking, no buses no nothing. I took my trusty hammock and free-camped almost everywhere I went–no matter the weather, sometimes finding decent camps and sometimes . . . not.

I took money for emergencies only, using my survival skills and street 'savvy' to feed and water myself by searching in forests, fields, bins and more besides. I was alone for the whole journey but I met a whole host of

'interesting' characters, most friendly, some mad and a few downright dangerous. Come with me and experience what it's like to travel through some of the hardest land in Europe on foot, with a heavy rucksack and only the money and supplies that I can scavenge en-route. No plans, no ideas, only the destination. Through the Alps of Austria and Italy, to the seas and lakes of Monte Negro.

From elation to desperate panic, this is an entirely true account, told in confidence as to a close friend, I expose my heart and soul, telling the tale in a third person past account, as well as in first person discussion, where the psychology and philosophy of the events are laid bare.

Nothing is left out, no consideration is given to conforming to any rules or traditions of writing, it is simply the raw emotion of one man and a 2,500 mile journey into Europe and his soul.

I invite you to join me, join MossDogg in philosophy, spirituality and extreme travel: _How I walked from_ _England to Greece._

**A conversation.**

"I came back to make you an offer." I said to her, soft morning sunlight and warm breeze.

"So make it then." She cut me to the chase in her clean white dress.

Looking into her far-away eyes I felt for her. I already knew her answer, but smiled inside because I knew I would still make the offer regardless. After all, it was why I came back.

Strands of her hair moved with the air around us, like lens flare.

"Come with me, I can be your guide. I know you want to but you don't want to go alone, here is your chance."

She smiled, she already knew my question and her answer too. _What's inside is always felt but rarely_ _admitted._ She looked away as she answered. _A dream that she cannot make real._

"I can't, I have too many responsibilities here." _The cliché is real however._

"I knew you would say that. Take a holiday then, just come for a week or two, you can bus back. Surely that's OK?"

"I can't." She repeated "Its too hard now, there are too many things going on here that need me."

_Reinforcement of the walls which we hide behind. Walls that make us feel, safe._

"What's going on that you can't postpone or get someone else to look after for a bit?" I began to feel a prickle of enjoyment as I challenged her. Knowing that feelings rise from such things, perhaps to be thought of again in the future . . .

"I just can't. I've too many responsibilities, I'm sorry." She looked away again. _Half truths. People don't like to_

_'rock the boat' so much, in general._

"Ahh its OK, I just thought I would make you the offer." I said smiling. "Here . . ." I brought my hands together between us, pulling off a bracelet from my left with my right.

She smiled and relaxed with comprehension: I wasn't offended, I really did know what she would say.

"It means freedom." I looked into her eyes to emphasise the deepness. A new owner after over 10 years upon my wrist. She pulled the white rubber onto hers and grinned. _Safe now._

"That's really sweet, thank you."

I grinned back. _Yup–safe . . . 'ish'._

"No problem. Remember–the only thing that can ever hold you back, is yourself."

[MossDogg and Nina. Croatia. 2016]

**How I Walked from England to Greece.**

**April 2016: England. Background.**

I had just pulled myself out of a rut, more a pit really. Despair induced and drug enforced, or maybe the other way around but the result is the same. It happened like this: After returning to England from a road trip through France with a good friend in 2015, I dallied in Hastings. Having no plans or ideas to glean a degree of momentum I stewed. I ended up in a relationship with a crazy, but good-hearted girl named Mills. We lived together in my old van which had failed its MOT in glorious style: The garage wrote that it was too dangerous to drive on the road and that I was very lucky that it made it back in one piece from the Euro trip! But it was awesome inside, all covered in neon graffiti and messages from friends and people I had met along the way, it was special, it was home. So rather than have it scrapped, it turned out that Mills had awesome parents who agreed to let us keep it on their driveway! So there we lived. Beryl (the van) was home for just over three months until the smoky haze and inertia had gnawed at my resolve until it was dust. We took a trip to Portugal to deliver a car to a good friend as a favour after which mills and I broke up and I tried to create some small semblance of a life plan . . .

I ended up wandering for a couple of days alone. On the second night as the rains beat through my set-up and slowly chilled me, I realised that my tramping kit and my mind weren't ready and though I was desperate to escape it simply wasn't the time. I ended up gravitating in the only direction I could do: Eastbourne and my parents. I needed a solid base, a start point. On my way walking there it began raining again. It was even worse than the previous night, pelting me with fat, pitiless beads. I felt broken and I no longer possessed the strength to carry on. I called my Dad and asked him to come pick me up, that was a huge thing for me: I'm quite proud and independent and I hate to call on anyone for help, especially my parents. It was like waiting to be picked up by the police. I knew that I needed their love and security while I recuperated and formulated a plan. I knew also that living with them meant that I would have to sacrifice my way of life and put a leash on my behaviours and activities. So be it, if they were prepared to take me in–yet again, then I would do my best to make it a positive experience for us all.

My parents and I have been through a lot in our relationship. I suppose it's more like, _I_ have put them through a lot. Actually–I am the family black sheep. I have crashed their cars, taken drugs that scare them, not called them for weeks on end, called them and been in trouble, had the police call them because there was more trouble and more. I have lied to them and they have known it on many occasions, I have shouted at them, called them many, very bad things, I even told my father I hated him after smashing my computer and swinging at him because he made fun of my hat ( _there is more to it, but it sounds funnier like that_ ). Yet still we love each other and I wouldn't change them and they wouldn't change me. It's life, there are lessons to be learned here. I used to pity them for not understanding me, now I have come to accept that we don't understand each other just yet, maybe we never will–The main thing is that I know 100% that I can call on my parents and they will help me no matter what. This has enabled me to get to the point I am today and I am eternally grateful for their forgiveness every single time.

My father is a 6' 6' big dude that most people don't mess with, but actually he has a beautiful heart and would do anything for those he cares about, which is most people he knows really. I have a deep-seated, irrational fear of him that stems from my childhood, a fear that I just can't shift. It has permeated into my world in general too, meaning that I fear confrontations with people and hate: rules, responsibilities and the system. It has always been impossible for me and my dad to have a heart-to-heart as we are so different in how we think: I'm spontaneous, reckless and I don't consider the future much or give toss what anyone else thinks of me, whereas my father cares deeply what others think, is greatly concerned for the future and thinks everything through using tried and tested formula. We both know we love each other and hate to be at the impasse we always find ourselves but– _c'est la vie._

My mother is shorter and it is from her that most of my physical traits come. She is naïve at times but getting wiser all the time, so much so that she often surprises me now. She is kind and generous and will do anything

for me, always asking if I want to eat or drink something. It is from my mother that I get my obsession for never wasting a thing. She is very concerned with appearances and status and this used to bug me a great deal, now I accept it–she has much more good in her which outweighs that. I figure: If it makes her happy then it makes me happy for her. She has always been the one who listens to me, I can cry with my mother and that is a wonderful thing. I don't tell her everything however, she is too loyal to dad and whatever I confide in her, she will tell him. I love my mum to bits. I think she is a bit crazy which is great!

And so I stayed in their flat for a while, I soon got bored and I decided to try something that I had never done before in the UK: Go straight! Start a business. It felt like a great idea, I would be independent again and my parents would be mega proud of me. I longed for that. So I took out all my savings (£2,000) and borrowed

£6,500 from family and friends and created a business. I worked intensely for seven months, often seven days a week for 10-12 hours a day. The business proved a success. It was a small shop and club for 'geeks' which filled a niche market in Eastbourne. One day my father told me how proud he was of my achievements and my mother said the same. I felt my head fill with joy, so much so that I felt as if it would float off! I felt that for the first time in a long time, ever since boyhood really, that they meant it, they approved of me! But I was dying inside. No one can keep up that amount of work for long and after Xmas I shortened my work hours and hired help as the business expanded.

I met a girl, I knew she was bad for me but I was lonely, working all day and being 'cooped up' in my parents flat all night, I had no real life of my own other than work. She made me feel a little more alive but we started to smoke hash together . . . a lot! It helped at first, it eased the tension and made me more relaxed about my life, but gradually it made days meld into each other and life fell away. After two months I broke it off with her as she was becoming borderline 'schitzo'. I could see all the signs of a mad woman which I had seen before in another girl from my past. It's all in the eyes . . . I was lucky to get out alive I think! However, I continued to smoke pot, I believed it was my only solace. I woke up, went to work, came home and slept. Smoking pot helped me to unwind after work–that was my excuse. Really I just wanted my life to end or at least, to change.

Pot fast-forwarded it all into a hazy blur.

I was once again bereft of a reason. I had made my parents proud which made me feel great but the novelty soon wore off. I was making money but what was the point when I didn't spend it? I didn't want clothes or a nice car or a nice house or anything, what did I want? I didn't want to settle in Eastbourne that was for sure! I no longer enjoyed running the business either, so for the next three months all I could do was press fast forward again. I was stressed and I couldn't sleep properly, deep inside I knew that I was spiralling down into depression and that if I didn't act soon it would get harder and harder for me to act later. I had to change my life in several ways or I was going to end up destroying it!

So I finally stopped smoking and I decided to sell the business. When my parents found out they hated the idea and just like that, I felt their pride in me vanish as if it had never been there at all. They felt so different towards me, I knew that they couldn't understand my actions and more–that they felt they were stupid ones. I saw then that the only way I could ever make them proud was to constantly do what they felt I should do. That is not living my own life at all. I laughed! How I laughed! I had spent so long, years, fighting for my father's approval. It meant so much to me and now I finally could see that it was false: Laced with venom. My father could never be proud of the real me which was why we hardly ever talked. But now, after having a taste of it, I knew that I no longer needed or wanted it anyway. _I was free!_

Fuck it! I could now do anything I wanted to do. I didn't care about people judging me and I need please no one but myself. Loneliness is simply a construct of society–they make us chase sex and love because it means we trap each other, creating routine and a system in which we feel safe. It's genius really! The one thing all of us have, is a body. What better control then to have each of us crazily chasing after each others and then link it to 'love': Our very own word for control. Have you ever wondered why there is no real definition for the word?

Can you define it without a struggle? Not that I don't believe in it–just that the way we are taught to understand it, I feel is incorrect. For instance: we are taught that our 'soul mate' will 'complete' us, thus we feel as if we, alone, are incomplete, we desire to find someone who is going to make us magically feel better . . . As with so many things that I have discovered, the real answers are waiting inside ourselves.

I began to realise that I had trapped myself in so many more ways than I realised. I was imprisoned by sex, money, comfort, security, entertainment, self-doubt and probably a host of other things as well. I saw very

clearly that I had to escape, fast. I decided to sell my business, buy a camper and go travelling. After deciding this and thinking about it for a while, I decided that a camper would severely limit the places that I could travel to (as well as the fact that I had done camper travelling many times already). I began to look into flying somewhere far away and totally different. So where to go? India? Asia? Australasia? (I didn't fancy the America's then), and what to do once there? Wander about a bit? It all seemed a little pointless, I felt that escape was good but I needed a reason, something to fix my mind upon and keep me going. It was then that I remembered an old idea that I had a few years back: To walk to India like the original hippies did! It sounded so good and my mind buzzed with excitement, it seemed 'legit'! I would do it!

I began to sort my kit out for the journey. I modified my hammock so that it hung inside a bivvy bag as one, fully waterproof unit. I then tested it out in the loft at my parents place as it's almost as cold as outside up in there. I couldn't sleep that night. I know it sounds like I was being a total 'weener' but it was freezing! I wanted to see if the bivvy around the hammock increased the inner temperature enough that it meant that I didn't need a sleeping bag while inside. I was very wrong indeed. My plan to cut down on weight and space wasn't going to work, even with full thermals on it was still too cold. Damn! I thought back to travels I had made around the Dartmoor national forest area: Just me and a rucksack for three weeks after I decided to quit my job and accommodation by sneaking off in the middle of the night with said rucksack and never returning. It's a gorgeous area around there and easy to camp but after the first two weeks I became lonely, frustrated and depressed. I began to wonder as I lugged my gear down from the loft-tired and achy-if this idea was just going to be the same. Was I destined to run every time I got depressed, with no direction like a terrified rodent until I gave up again and came back once more to my parents house?

My bubble burst, the trickle became a flood and I was washed away on an ocean of despair known as

'existential depression.' Why am I here? Where can freedom be found? Does it even exist? What's the point of doing anything when I have zero impact upon the world? I want to die . . . I could go more deeply into this

'episode' but I believe that its enough to tell you, that I became first frustrated, then angry, then despairing again, until I discovered the phrase 'existential depression' and what it meant (TY Google). I found myself a little piece of focus then and directed it into the origins of mankind, looking into the Sumerians: what they believed, created and wrote. Incredible. I began to feel a little more in control. This digging was helping me to understand the bigger questions that I was asking and why I was asking them. I was still far from an answer but I wasn't despondent anymore. I had a dim flame inside. A decision was coming, I could feel it, I would do _something_ soon. I started doing more. Then I met Leyla _. . ._

Light had come flooding back into my life again and I felt great! What a difference getting out of the house and going for lunch at a garden centre can make hey. Leyla was perfect: A beautiful hippy girl full of light and energy and love. A free-thinker and a wounded soul looking for the same answers that I was. She waited our table that day and I really liked the way she smiled and how her eyes had a sort of, far-away, peaceful look. I said to myself and my sister:

"I'm going to leave that girl my number if the universe wills it."

What follows for a few paragraphs may seem a little 'romance novelesque' but there is reason for it beyond that. Stick with it! I looked around for a pen to scribble my number down for her . . . no pen. My sister didn't have one either.

"C'est la vie!" I said, and that was that.

Later on a guy came over to us, my sister knew him and they chatted about her husband and fish-related things (my sisters husband is a fisherman), he asked for her husbands number so he could then contact him about the fish-related things. Guess what he left on the table? How often does someone come along out of the blue and leave a pen and a pad of paper on your table right when you could really do with them? Ah universe! What a beautifully droll sense of humour you have! How could I not then leave my number, together with some banter, to the girl with the peaceful eyes?

"C'est la vie!" I repeated.

I didn't hear anything from her for a while, actually I didn't expect to-I didn't care that much. I liked her but I didn't know anything of her and I was happy being single. Plus it was a terrible note! I don't think I even spelt

her name right. I have a big problem with names: they go in and I repeat the name back to its owner so it looks like I'm committing it to memory and then–just like that, literally within 20 seconds, they go and I often look like a fool or someone who really doesn't care much at all about the person I'm talking with. She even had a name tag and I actually made a point of looking at it to get the spelling right and still I forgot! Ah well, c'est la vie ( _I say that a lot in my life_ ). I had tried, which was a lot more than I had done in a very long time, so I was still pleased with myself. It gave me hope that I would do more and more in the future. And then, later that night, she sent me a text me, right out of the blue.

She told me that I had indeed spelt her name wrong but then added a wink on the end so I didn't feel so bad.

So it's Layla, with an 'A', OK. I replied, trying not to be too quick and look desperate but I couldn't help myself, after five minutes I was entering the characters. Again I didn't hear back from her for a couple of hours this time, but again–I wasn't worried at all, I was still amazed that she had text me back in the first place. Over the next few days we conversed via text about travelling, dreams, freedom and love. It seemed that she felt the same way that I did about pretty much all of it too! I felt that we had a connection and that it was growing. It felt so right texting her. Then she agreed to meet up with me almost a week later. Once again I was stunned. I just never expected it. I never even expected an initial reply from my 'school-boy' note and now its a 'date' ( _I_ _hate to use that term_ ). So I replied: 'yes. Hell yes!'

I was nervous, I usually am on things like this. I have been told that I'm a 'grower.' _I now realise this is true_.

Apparently, because I'm so intense and honest and a bit nuts, most people think that I'm fake, which is so perfectly ironic since that is one of the things that I am most definitely not! I'm too honest really. But once people get to know me and they realise that I'm not acting and I really am just a bit nuts, they begin to like me-for the most part. She was arriving by train and I was waiting at the station. The nervousness started making my insides react. I began to fart . . . it's the way it often is with me and nervousness. My body seems to think that whenever I'm nervous, there must be a problem nearby so I should prepare for 'fight or flight.' The best way to do this is to have a crap?! I couldn't go to the toilet as she would be arriving any second and I wanted to be here waiting. I had to clench. _I don't like to write about this kind of thing but I feel that no one really does and_ _thus we hide this little bit of truth from the world. I want to be as open as possible during this book. After all,_ _I'm only human._ Shit shit SHIT! Bad word to use. People were flooding the platform from the train. Dammit!!!

Then I saw her. She looked so cool, honestly! Alone, head-phones on, little natural dreads with beads in amongst her hair. Her eyes had that far-away look again, then I realised–she was high! She hadn't seen me yet and I got parallel to her as she walked towards the centre of the station, closer and closer until she saw me at last and jumped in surprise. Ha! We both laughed and it so began . . .

_I will condense most of the 'mush' herein and save you the details but sometimes a little mush goes a long_ _way!_

We walked to a small park close by. I was still nervous and so I talked, constantly. I talked about everything and I held nothing back, I went straight in with things like: My beliefs, the purpose of existence, society, my dreams and my research into the Sumerians. It felt amazing actually! I was spouting my deepest fears and hopes and she actually listened, not only that, but she understood what I was going on about and felt the same. It all came out of me like some kind of pressurised hose of information that for me served as a kind of 'shit-test:' if she could take this, then she was alright by me. She listened and she didn't judge me. She had been asking many of the same questions herself–so she told me.

We climbed a tree and she rolled a spliff that we shared. I was a bit apprehensive to smoke it since I hadn't smoked anything for a while now and it was green–not the pot that I was used to. Also, since I was still fighting for bowel control and cannabis is known for its relaxation qualities . . . It was all OK though and we talked more and more. All I wanted to do was to spend as much time as I possibly could with her, just talking. There was no pressure, I wasn't acting and I had no goal other than to continue. We shared another spliff and then went into town where in a little bar we sat opposite one another in deep, comfy seats and talked more. I didn't want to go to the loo and sort myself out, as I imagined I would be ages and that would give away that I had just taken a dump–I would feel embarrassed and then she would no longer like me . . . so I didn't go. I held it as long as I could but eventually I felt that I would burst and _had_ to excuse myself. Thank God. It was quicker than I thought and I felt like a new man.

I returned to our area and we talked more about everything, our past, our dreams and our present. I loved every

second and as we talked, we became two stars, we gravitated towards each other, we couldn't have stopped it if we tried. She came to me and my arms were already open. I smelt her hair. I could have stayed like that forever and we savoured that first embrace. The embrace slowly became a kiss as deep and as tender as a warm sea. I had no mind, I was floating and so was she, our stars were melting into one and I was lifted into another place where all I knew was her. We could barely restrain ourselves and our passions grew as our embrace tightened.

It wasn't until staff brushed by us delivering drinks that we came to, and realised just how far we had gone.

Faces flush and eyes glittering, we giggled Naughtily. We were too swept away to care what they thought. We kissed again. We kissed, until the bar began to close for the night.

Out on the street I didn't want the night to ever end, but I knew that she would soon have to catch her train home, half an hour roughly. I suggested that we could hang out at my work since I had the keys and it was right next to the train station. She said that she didn't want to go home just yet and agreed. Once inside my work (a small shop with a lounge area and kitchen), I put on some music and began making tea. I only got as far as boiling the kettle . . . Later, she lay nestled in my arms as I told her stories of some of my travels. We were on my beanbag bed and the music played softly. She began to breath deeper and to my wonder, I found that she had fallen asleep in my arms. I couldn't sleep for hours as I had left the music on and I was a terrible sleeper. I didn't care–I had found her.

So we got to talking about the future the next day and travelling. I said that I wanted to travel with her anywhere she wanted to go, either in a camper or backpacking or whatever. She seemed pretty keen so I decided to spend the next few days working out the details. Maybe we fly to Asia I thought, man that sounded good! Or Egypt, or central America. Life tasted good again. Well how things change and how quickly they can do so . . .

Two weeks after that night and I was still single, we never became a couple at all! After she took the train home in the morning we texted each other and it was all fine. Then her texts began to take longer and longer in coming. The penny dropped for me when I sent her a message saying we could go anywhere together! She

replied with a very singular: "Do what's best for you." there was no 'we' involved at all. I knew then when I read that text. My walls disintegrated and I felt the harsh wind of lonely reality violently freezing me once more. I cried on my mothers shoulder. Something I haven't done in years and it felt good, I cried hard and I cried long. As I cried, I felt all the anger, the frustration, the fears and the pain wash away, as if they were layers of mud upon my soul, my tears–the rain. I let it all go. I would have given Layla the world. _C'est la vie_ , if she was right for me then we would still be together.

Crying like that–letting go as I did, made me finally see that I could truly do anything I wanted to do and I could, and I would, do it alone. I could spend the rest of my life alone in fact. I didn't need anyone else and I was no longer worried about finding someone. This really liberated my soul: I didn't feel _happy_ as such, I felt more–a calm balance begin to spread from within me and I felt a resolve building that was stronger than anything the world could throw at me. I felt like I was at ground zero. I was ready to answer those deep questions that had been gnawing at me for so long, or at least–to begin to answer them. Questions like: why am I here? Is there a God? What is the point of living? Do we have souls? What do I truly want to do? Who am I?

But I needed time and space to do so.

I was ready for a challenge, why not do something utterly crazy? Something huge that people will not think is possible. I decided I would walk. Fuck a van, fuck a plane, fuck hotels and money and everything. I would walk, alone, to somewhere far away and that would give me all the time and space I needed, plus it would give me a challenge to set myself against. I needed a destination to finalise the idea. Once again, India took centre stage. I looked into the route, I had to cross either Russia, or Syria. Neither felt right. Both pretty much war-zones at the moment. I thought for a while, and that's when I decided to walk to Greece. Situated right at the bottom of Europe it's pretty much as far as one can travel from the UK on foot without crossing war-zones or being really frikin cold. Set. To Greece!

**June 2016: England. Packing**

I had travelled western Europe four times before in camper vans. At times I had money, and at other times I had not. I knew that I could survive with no cash in most of the more affluent areas no problem. I was confident that I would be making money from busking. I was also very confident in my ability in those same areas to find food and water in bins or on the road. To that end I decided I would take a stash pouch with a few hundred Euro and my cash card for emergencies, but I would essentially be travelling as if I didn't have a penny.

My kit consisted of my 40Litre British army rucksack, my jungle hammock–complete with mosquito netting, my tarp, thermals, two pairs of socks, swim shorts, a light coat, a beenie hat, a 'spork', a wind-up torch, my diary and pen, a cigarette kit, four tent pegs, spare cordage, fire-lighting kit, sun cream, fake wallet, contact lenses, vitamins, 1Litre water bottle, my 'Vibram' soled, 'Gortex' walking boots, a water filtration bottle and spare filters, emergency phone, two pairs of boxers, a half roll of toilet paper, medi-kit, needle and thread, 1Litre of muesli (trail mix), bivvy, 'Snugpack' extreme sleeping bag and a harmonica. It seems like such a lot written here yet it all fits into one bag upon my back weighing in at about 18kg. I had no electronic equipment (apart from my emergency mobile–switched off) and no watch, so no way of time keeping (most times written herein were estimated) or contact keeping. I would have 'alone time.'

What follows, is the day-to-day diary of my journey from my parents front door in Eastbourne: On foot to Dover, the ferry to Calais and then from there–by foot once more to Greece. I have tried to write all the places I visited down, but sometimes I was just too damn tired or didn't see a sign! So apologies if some place names are not quite perfect or missed out entirely. Unless stated in the journal, every day I found food en-route in order to survive. This means either wild food, 'scrumping', food from bins: Both commercial and street (never private house bins however), or food that I literally found lying in, or by the road! Same goes for water, for which I also knocked on doors or asked in bars etc. Any money that I spent was (unless stated) all made from my busking as I travelled, or was money that I found en-route (I am nothing if not resourceful!). Finally I should like to say that everything you have read so far, and will read herein is true. It all happened . . .

**Ju**

**ne 13 th**

**– 17**

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**th 2016: En**

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**gland**

**Day 1**

So I hit the road! I hoisted my pack onto my back, did final checks and jauntily walked through the front door as if it were just another walk to work or something. I was full of excitement as I walked. That first day I walked all the way from Eastbourne to the 'Fire hills' in Hastings. I found myself grinning and singing along the way, I was finally free! I felt so happy and alive. I had a fantastic goal and that would motivate me to keep going and to stay focused. I saw all the brambles and wondered what the black berries were going to taste like in Europe when they came to fruit. I had no ties anymore, nothing to do other than to walk and to survive. I was all eyes and ears, I marvelled at everything I saw since it was now all coated in the lustrous film of freedom! I had spent the three days and nights previous saying 'shalom' to my friends and family. I was really going to miss them. I went to Pevensey castle three nights previous with friends, we smoked it up on the crumbling walls as sunset came and long into the night. Last night my father came in to see me and stood for a while, finally he spoke:

"I feel like I should say something . . ."

It quickly degenerated into an argument that neither of us wanted. It seems that's the way talks with me and dad go–So many things not said, so many things so far apart. We have learned though: We didn't let it degenerate too far this time, we both sighed and somehow brought a better feeling between us back, but it was far from the talk either of us wanted to have. Same old. I went to bed.

At Little common beach I met a lovely couple of friends who were travelling together in vans around the UK.

The women and I chatted and they invited me to sit and have a cup of tea and some cake, definitely needed since I had already walked nearly three hours and I was just beginning to get hungry, perfect timing really!

They loved what I was doing and had lots of encouragement to give me which I lapped up, I felt very good: Motivated and strong and so I continued walking through Bexhill and all the way into Hastings. As I began walking upon the promenade that stretches right the way along the Hastings sea front, my legs decided to make it known that it was no longer a joke–they were serious: I should stop. Man they ached and every step from that point on was painful. I felt it odd how one minute I was pretty fine and then boom! Ache-city. Ahead was a little square shelter with seats on each side. In the side facing me was seated an old–looking woman. She was feeding the pigeons and she had a wild smile on her face. I had to stop and I thought it would be better to sit with her and maybe chat, than to sit alone. I asked before I sat and she assented. It felt so good to rest my legs, which began to throb as they adjusted to no longer walking. We watched the pigeons for a bit and then we began to chat, I saw that she was drunk, both from her crazy eyes and the spittle that flecked randomly as she spoke. Every time she spoke directly at me I silently prayed for deliverance from the damp missiles. But she was cool, she even offered me some gin but I declined. She told me how she had been a slave until 12 years old in Africa and through the help of her uncles, had come to Britain after 30 years of wage-less work. I was pretty gob-smacked that that kind of thing may still be going on in the world in places. Was she telling the truth? I guess one never knows? After a while I continued onwards along the seafront, my legs still hurt but I wasn't in danger of collapsing anymore. Nice.

In Hastings town I felt hunger consuming me so I went to my old favourite haunt: A potato place just outside the shopping centre. I got talking with the guy serving at the hatch and told him my quest, he was very positive and even gave me a discount since I only had £3 cash on me ( _don't forget: the 350 Euro was for emergencies, I_ _was literally travelling as if I didn't have it, preferring to use my resourcefulness first)._ He then decided to give me the two unsold potato's as he was about to close up! Thanks! Food for tonight and tomorrow too. I began to recognise that rather than worrying about food, shelter, water etc. If I simply enjoyed my time, those things would all fall into place.

_I now call it–the 'Universe'. Other people might call it God, but essentially, I believe there is an all-powerful,_ _loving force of creation that watches and lives each of our lives. I won't go too much into it now, but more will_ _be explained throughout this book._

After a rest and finishing my potato (was huge), I continued through Hastings into it's amazing old town and

up the steps of the east hill. There I paused and turned around to take in the view. I saw the whole of Hastings and beyond, up the coast all the way to Eastbourne where I had started this morning. It was incredible to stand there, looking back upon the ground that I had covered–I could say: I walked that. It made me feel strong and confident. I stood there for a while longer, content in the afternoon sun, seagulls wheeled and the people went about their business. Eastbourne was all the way back on the horizon, it was so distant yet I had just walked from there. No problem at all. I could do this, no–I would do this! In my mind, I already had already done so.

I continued over the east hill and into the Firehills region of Fairlight. It had rained earlier so the long grasses and bushes were wet and as I plunged through them in an increasingly worrisome effort to find shelter for the night, I became more and more soggy. It took me over two hours from the east hill to find a spot to camp, way longer than I wanted and it was already coming up to dusk. I had seen a lovely spot earlier but that was when I first started to search, and since I had loads of time left before dark I had decided that it wasn't perfect enough.

Mistake. Beggars can't be choosers . . . And I paid the price by being knackered, cold, and damp. But it wasn't all bad: a peaceful little stream passed near to my hammock and as I sat on a rock next to it, the setting sun sent shafts of soft golden light through the trees and onto my camp. It was beautiful, the light delicately warmed my face as I stood and moved into it. I felt such a peace, a long day of walking over, and camp was set, all I had to do was sleep. It promised to be a cold night but I was ready, I had my thermals on and clambered into the hammock for the first night of the journey. Bliss.

**Day 2**

It rained in the night but not too bad, my tarp deflected it well. Up at half six or so. I swung my legs out of the hammock into the cool, damp forest air and noticed that they hurt–a lot! I had overdone it a little on the first day! Too much enthusiasm and too long trying to find the perfect camp. My body, although fit, wasn't at all used to walking for so long and it was making it's discontentment known. I think I must have walked 25 miles that day. It doesn't sound like much now, but for a first day it was a bad idea. Warm up and warm down's are vital. I decided to shift my focus from walking stupid distances, to relaxing as I walk. I realised that there was a need to balance the day better from here on. I vowed that while in England, in preparation for the main walk from Calais, I would have a cuppa in the morning at some point and buy a full on English breakfast for lunch.

(yes, spending money. I had found some UK cash notes in my room and took them with me–remember, I'm

resourceful). I decided that I needed to set up camp earlier and then have time to chill and enjoy the beauty of wherever I was. In fact, I decided to take more time over everything from that moment on, after all–I was free now! It was a journey and not a race.

I walked on and got into a regime of resting every half hour or so. In fact, my body forced me to rest: My legs, arse, back, neck, feet and shoulders all ached like I had slept in a working cement mixer. I have been a gym guy, I have had muscle repairing pain the next day, but this was something beyond. However, I managed to get all the way through Winchelsea, Rye and Camber and then make a wonderful camp next to one of the lakes in Lydd. In fact, the lake I camped next to I last visited about 25 years ago, my father used to windsurf and he would take the family with him as he practised there. I remember me and my sister standing in the water and giggling as the 'weird things' nibbled at our feet and legs, I later found out that they were shrimps. Good times. I had a cuppa in a cafe which was my early day treat, then later I bought some seafood mix from the fishmongers in Rye harbour which I ate with my trail mix for dinner. The sun had shone all day and even though I was aching, mentally I felt fantastic. I felt that I had used my time a lot better this day: I had rested, chilled, gazed, listened and thought much more. I hadn't walked as far as day 1 which was good. I had followed the sea all the way and didn't realise that the river Rother was uncrossable south of Rye, it meant that I had to add five miles westerly trek into and then out of Rye to cross it and continue, but I didn't get fazed by it at all. I was fine–just achy. The camp I had made at the lake was on private land, I had to wait until the coast was clear and then jump the barbed wire fence. I hung my hammock as close to the waters edge as I could and had to stay quiet in order to remain hidden from the walkers that occasionally past by, nothing too difficult. I was shattered and fell asleep fast–a rare thing for me until this trip.

**Day 3**

What an amazing night! After falling asleep so quick, I woke in the middle of the night and got that incredibly strange but kind of wonderful sensation: like only a second had gone by. It was well into the night however and several hours must have passed, it felt totally surreal–like time had somehow contracted for me. Maybe it had? I

had fantastic dreams too. I got up about half five which is totally unlike me. Usually I would lethargically drag myself from my bed at about 10am after going to sleep too late, due to computer games or reading. Half five felt amazing, it felt right to greet the dawn and to make full use of the sun. my body ached like crazy again, especially my feet and shoulders. I had to walk slowly so as to conserve strength and enable my body to heal a bit, it also meant I could enjoy the scenery more and I was rewarded with some beautiful visions: A secret lake behind a screen of high grasses, a gorgeous field of wild flowers, several different sorts of butterflies and so on.

I began to get hungry but held it off for as long as I could before I took lunch, I felt it must have been around two but it was actually noon. I bought another full English at a little place and felt epic! Then I noticed a little local supermarket and did my first bin dive of the trip. I ended up rescuing a bunch of yogurts and cheese which was great news as I was almost totally out of food. Just as I finished the dustmen arrived, how lucky was that!?

Another two mins and all that good food would have been winging it's way to the landfill. Bin diving saves not only money, but the environment too.

I began to read 'the 70 stanza's' (or something like that): a book on Buddhism, as I really wanted to find a higher purpose in my life and felt that religion may provide this–as well as answers to some of my other 'big questions'. As I read I developed some opinions on what I was reading: I took it, that the Buddha attained

'enlightenment' as it's put, and that 'enlightenment involves being free of all suffering through the denial of active 'grasping'. This I translated as: The Buddhist wants to ride the creamy middle of nothingness rather than the up/down of emotions ( _this was my opinion and is open to criticism)._ I reasoned that this was all well and good and I agreed that it was totally plausible, but I knew it wasn't the right path for me at that time. I felt that it puts our conciousness aside and this means that we can't appreciate stuff, it just kinda washes over us and that felt wrong to me. _I feel that we are the most concious of all physical beings on this planet and I feel that there_ _is a reason for this. 1 key reason, I feel, is that we are here to 'appreciate' this planet, to swoon at it's beauty_ _and to marvel at it's magnificence. Without a beholder, nothing exists . . ._

I made it to Dymchurch and realised that as I was on the sea again, there was nowhere suitable to camp. See, a hammock needs two stout and tall objects to string itself to, trees being the number one choice and beaches tend to lack such things. I had chosen to bring a hammock rather than a tent as I have used both in my travels previous, finding that I don't sleep well on ground and that the hammock can cope with slopes a little better than a tent can. But in situations like this, the tent would definitely have been better–Damn! I was so frikin tired and looked round forlornly for a place. My feet ached. I had to forge on. Eventually, after another hour of dragging myself along the seafront promenade like a zombie, I decided to cut my losses and go bivvy on the ground. I climbed over a nice high wall and found there was a grassy gap between the wall and someone's garden which would be perfect. There is a massive sense of relief I always feel when my camp is all set up, after which I often then experience a great sense of satisfaction for the day's walking. I sat on the wall, my camp hidden behind me watching the sun go down and the sea's clash against the shore, then I buried myself in my bivvy and slept.

**Day 4**

I found that the bivvy set up worked pretty well, much better than the time in the loft where it was impossible to get in it. This time it was directly on the ground which had made all the difference. As I woke I stretched my legs and turned my feet this way and that to test their state and they felt good, once out of camp and my weight upon them however, It was sharply proven that I was wrong, they still ached like hell! Walking for the first half hour was a nightmare. Every step was a painful thud as my abused extremity hit the ground. Once they had

'softened' or whatever it was they did, walking became easier (as long as I didn't stop to rest for too long anywhere). The sun was strong that day and so I hastened into a caravan site to get some sun screen. The market therein was asking extortionate amounts for their wares since they had a captive audience–I wasn't prepared to pay what they thought they could get away with. When the assistant was distracted I squeezed a little 'Malibu' into my palm and made my get away. Thus protected from the dangerous rays for a while I continued, heading towards Folkestone, forging my own path through the gorgeous countryside. In the sun there is something magical about ancient trees, verdant, grassy hills and the bleating of far away sheep. England is a beautiful place if one explores it. I ended up a little lost so asked a couple of girls if I was heading right, it turned out that I was and we chatted for a bit. Once they found out I was on a walking quest to Greece they were gob-smacked. One of the girls then gave me some wonderful words of encouragement:

"I don't think your gunna make it mate. I don't see it happening."

It was my turn to be gob-smacked. What kind of person would say that to someone about to embark on such a journey? I felt it showed her to have absolutely zero compassion or empathy. Did she think it was good advice?

That I would thank her for being so forthright? What the hell? I left quickly feeling pretty angry, England may have some beautiful countryside but it's people needed some work sometimes. _I feel this can be particularly_ _true of our young, who are growing up in a world where social skills are either non-existent or are warped_ _through the media: TV, internet, music etc. I have seen many times, parents plonking their child in front of the_ _TV or giving them a tablet computer or mobile in a lazy effort to placate them. kids and young adults putting so_ _much time into computer games that they do nothing else. FaceBook completely changing the face of social_ _interaction so its no longer physical, its virtual and no one really knows anyone as we are all behind masks. I_ _worry for the future generations I really do, but then again–I bet every previous generation has said the_ _same . . ._

I soon found myself walking through the town of Folkestone which I'm sorry, but I felt it was a dive. The people didn't respond at all as I said my passing hello's, they seemed down, and a touch afraid of a guy who acts out of the ordinary and actually attempts friendly interaction with strangers. I stopped in the town centre for my full English, across the street at the foot of a closed down store lounged a group of drunken wasters. They shouted and hollerred at whomever they chose, obscenities abound. People were uncomfortable as they passed and girls tended to suffer what surely was abuse of the verbal kind. Yet no one could do anything about them.

They were not moved on or anything. _Now, I can say this as I have been, and doubtless–will be a bum again in_ _my life. I have lived on the streets and there are some awesome people there, but I disagree with it when those_ _people just spend their days getting wrecked and then annoy, upset or abuse people. This, in my opinion makes_ _them wasted humans. The universe doesn't like it when we waste the gift of a physical form. It doesn't get_ _angry, it gets saddened and this saddens me._ I finished my lunch and moved on. I had to walk very slowly as my feet were still very sore, I began to see this as a blessing in disguise though–it was teaching me the correct speed at which to travel. I made a plan from now on, to walk in the mornings, then chill-out while the sun was hottest: From about 11-2pm, then walk again and make camp around 6pm. No more than six hours walking a day! No rush! I should take it slow and lap it all up . . . Didn't I learn that the other day?

_I find that I forget things a lot, or perhaps I just don't care enough to remember? I reckon it stems from my 15_

_years of on and off dope smoking and my philosophy of living in the moment. Literally, I often feel like I wake_ _in the morning and have had a reset button in my brain pressed. I don't harbour grudges, I don't feel the same_ _as when I went to bed and I don't learn from my experiences. Which in many ways is good. It means that I still_ _take chances on things, even when I know it may lead to pain. I remember my experiences, but it's like I forgive_ _them if they ended up bad. Hence why I have no qualms about going on crazy adventures like this! I'm not_ _worried about where I camp, where I find food and water or who I may meet–I'm excited about the_

_possibilities. It's a good way of mind but it does have the potential to lead me into trouble, but I also have an_ _amazing knack of not attracting that trouble! On the rare occasions that it does comes to me, I somehow_ _always manage to escape unscathed. I can say that, and I don't even need to touch wood I'm so confident in it,_ _Seriously! I think a lot of people would say I'm tempting fate by saying things like that, I trust in the universe_ _enough that I don't care. Good or bad it really makes no difference. I feel that it's this openness I have that_ _means somehow–though I don't deserve it at all since I'm just a normal human being–I get away with living_ _without a care. Some people may call it lucky or blessed. I call it loved. The thing is: We all are._

I made camp that night above Folkestone, on her cliffs which are gorgeous. My hammock hung in the boughs of an old tree whose branches curled up and then round, creating a half-dome that was perfect for me to camp beneath. After setting up I wandered the cliff top I was on. It was magical and I sat for a while, somewhere between meditation and rapture with a grin on my face. I watched the seagulls, I watched the sea and I watched the little town with its tiny people below. A few people came by here and there and I said hello as they passed with pleasing results this time. I chatted with an old, shirtless dude called Craig who was an ex-boxer and present grocer even though he was in his 80's. I could see from his 'shirtlessness' that he had been 'built' and he still retained the iron core of it. His eyes gleamed with an infectious mischief and he had a friend-making smile.

He kept punching me in the chest as we talked and I felt it was important to tense up and receive his blows, which he clearly only gave to those people he 'really liked' . . . I think. He told me that I would make it to Greece, he said I have the confidence and punched me about again, I was beginning to like this guy! He gave me his email and told me to message him once I had made it, which I agreed to do, in fact–I thought that was a great idea and it would became the major thing that I could offer the people I met, it meant that they became a part of my journey.

As the sun set and a colder breeze set in, the darkening sky and my body getting colder made my thoughts turn slightly more melancholy for the first time since I left. I thought of an ex-girlfriend of mine called Clare who I broke up with about a year and a half ago. She was amazing and we were amazing together, but in the end I realised that we wanted different things out of life. It came to the fore as we were planning to travel New Zealand together. I talked about it in terms of campers and wandering and forever on the road, she spoke of apartments six months in and 'mod-cons' and settling. Though I loved her, I knew that we had no future together and as conversation between us died, so too did our relationship. At least I wasn't thinking of Kylie anymore, she was my first love and I messed things up there good. I was a fool then but if I went back I would act no differently, after all, I would be a fool once more.

_It took me over ten years to forgive myself for Kylie. Forgiveness is a wonderful gift and we should be better_ _at it. We make decisions based upon the situation itself and the person we are at that point in time. I believe_ _there is no wrong or right and everything happens for a reason. I learned a lot from Kylie and from the years_ _of guilt I heaped onto myself. It made me stronger and though it caused a long episode of self-loathing and_ _depression, I would not change anything. I am who I am today because of my past. Letting go is the key, ask_ _yourself– can I change it? No. can I forgive myself? You had better!_

**Ju**

**ne 17 th**

**– Ju**

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**ly 14 th 2016: F**

****

**rance**

**Day 5**

I woke up early due to some light rain. Reacting quickly I pulled the modified bivvy up over me and the whole hammock, Sweet! Once dawn arrived I broke camp and hit the road. It was a morning where a thick mist had slunk in and it made the world seem like a dream. This early it was quiet anyway, but with the mist too–it was like another world in which I alone lived. My feet absolutely killed today, I had to hobble, that was a bad sign.

However, it made me appreciate the small steps in my journey like getting to the next town rather than worry about the whole thing. I felt much better today, I was enjoying this more and more. I arrived in Dover at around half nine via a wonderful countryside footpath. I decided to have a cooked breakfast which was cracking and really set me up for the momentous event today: The French crossing and the journey proper. I was very excited, I couldn't wait to be on road again in Europe, but I was really going to miss the English 'greasy spoon'

diners. I made it to the ferry port at the perfect time, only having to wait 10 mins to board. In that time I chatted with a few characters: one guy was pissed and was ranting on about classic rock, another guy was pretty shady and was telling me how he was going over to 'pick up some gear.' Not too sure whether that was alcohol and fags or stronger stuff? I also met a couple of elderly travellers who had rucksacks on as big as mine and were very excited and chatty too! On the ferry I found a corner, removed my boots and slept the whole way. I felt my nerves tingle as the ferry docked, this was it! 2000 odd miles stretched out before me. Unknown events abound.

Would I make it? I had no doubt. Would I make it in one piece? Now that was a different matter entirely . . .

I walked from the ferry with the two elderly travellers, they were heading into Calais town and invited me to come along and stay in the hostel with them to the south west. I declined as I wanted to head south east and I didn't want to stay in hostels unless I absolutely had to, so we said goodbye and off they went. The first thing one gets to after the ferry if you're walking in Calais is a big round about. Take the right exit to go to Calais town, I didn't want that so I began to walk around the round about to see what the other exits had in store. I had no map, I was relying upon my compass and sense of direction to get me through. I passed policemen on the road and waved at them. The next exit was a motorway so no good. The one after that was a building site for a new road–also no good. Then I was back at the start. Bum–I had to take the town exit after all! I went past the police again who sniggered. Yes yes I went the wrong way, so what! I'm walking to Greece so-ha! The sun came out and cheered me, I didn't have to go into Calais proper as I very quickly found a turning off to the south east which I took. I passed a few of the 'dreaded' migrants on the way, I said hi and they were fine.

People had warned me to beware of them but they seemed really nice, no worries there at all. _Seems to be a lot_ _of ignorance which causes irrational fear with humans these days. Also, the more money people get, the more_ _they fear people with less, because they feel those people want to get at their money. Money is not a good thing_ _I feel. True it's necessary in this day and age, but what if we lived in a world without it? We used to._ I found an old straw hat in a bin I passed and decided to sport it. It turned out to have a bee in which stung me but it wasn't bad. I like to look as ragged as I can when I travel in this sort of way, it affords me a degree of protection as it makes me look poor and therefore not a good mugging target. It also means that I don't worry at all about damaging my clothing or kit. All my kit is old, old bag, old sleeping sack, old hammock, old clothing and now a stupid old straw hat too–Epic. Some children laughed at me as I rested on a rock. Whatever. I was pleased that I was resting more, I felt that it was vital to the longevity of my fitness.

After the array of wonderful footpaths in England I was not impressed with France's converse lack of them. I had to walk on the roadside a lot today which was smelly, unsafe and spoilt the view quite a bit. I came upon a local sized food store around five and decided-since I was tired and needed a sit down-that I would to do my first busk of the trip. I played my harmonica (badly) and made 12E in the first five minutes, sweet! I decided to use it to buy myself a good dinner from the store. I got lasagne and kiwi and when outside once more I decided it was camp finding time. By incredible good fortune, right next to the store was a little wooded area which was perfect for camp. I was really tired so strung my hammock and tarp and retired to bed early.

**Day 6**

I slept really well, I began taking notice a lot more of my body and heart today: when it said rest–I rested, when it asked me to eat–I ate, if an opportunity came my way–I was open enough to take it (if I so chose). I felt in control, I felt liberated! Don't get me wrong though, this journey was hard already: it had and it still was,

taking a big toll on my body and my mind. My body: In terms of lugging my gear on my back all day long for hours and hours, and my mind: because I was alone. But I knew I was learning so many wonderful things and I wanted to learn more. In fact, my body was already showing signs of responding to the rigours of the road and I was getting fitter. My feet however, still ached so much–the back of my ankles especially. It was as if I had torn ligaments, maybe I did? I became hungry as I walked but there was nothing around, I continued and became ravenous but I was out of food. Then, there in front of me on the curb was salvation! A barely touched bar of French nougat-yum! Then, not much farther: Cherries strewn across my path–thank you! I ate all the cherries and all the nougat and was sated. The universe provided for me, it seemed to me that all I had to do was be

'Zen,' in the now and free, allowing the universe to look after me. All I had to do in return was love it back and love the world, spread happiness wherever and whenever I could through smiles and interactions. Not a bad deal!

Later on, I passed by another local store and busked for a while with my new-found mentality. I smiled at everyone and put my heart and love into it. I ended up being given a ton of food and my bag became super-heavy! I had food sorted for a while, thank you! Later I came to find that I had lost a five Euro note somewhere but hey–easy come, easy go! I entered into another store en route to get pencils for my journal, which I found to be 15 cent. I was watched the entire time I was in there and as I tried to leave I was accused of shoplifting, yes-for the 15 cent pencils!!! The manager stopped me and demanded that I pay for the pencils which I had already paid for! I very smugly got my receipt and showed her, plus the checkout girl waved at her and said it's OK.

The manager bitch just walked off, no–'I'm sorry Mr. Traveller sir that was my bad here have a free pencil sharpener.' That made me angry, but then I did something I don't usually do: I let it go, right then and there.

Usually I have to simmer with things for a while before I'm able to let them go, this time I said 'C'est la vie' in my head and the anger was gone, in fact, I felt even better–I laughed.

I continued south east looking for camp. Nothing. I plodded on as the evening began, leaving the main road in favour of a country lane which looked good. I plodded some more. I tried to feed a crazy dog some milk I had, but it just barked at me from behind it's gate. This alerted it's owner: An old French dude, who came out all puffing and ready for action. He wanted to know what was going on: Me with a bottle of milk at his gate and his dog going nuts. I speak a little French and after a while we sort-of understood one another and he was cool with me. I tried to give _him_ the milk, for his cat which I saw hiding in the porch but it seemed he didn't understand that part, because after I gave him the milk and went to walk away, he ushered me back and put the milk back into my hands . . . Humbly I thanked him for my milk and walked away feeling confused. Do dogs drink milk? I plodded on, my feet killed, there was still nowhere to camp. This part sucked: being tired but having to continue on. I was in serious danger of collapsing when I saw a smoking-hot girl running towards me on the road. Quickly I stood straight and made it look like I was totally fine and not in any pain at all. We passed one another and shared a smile. I felt a little better and then I saw a camp spot just up the hill. It was by a train track but I knew I had to take whatever I could get. I made a spliff as I had some leftover pot from when I was with Stacy but I regretted it–it made me feel negative and alone. I decided not to smoke again. Bed.

**Day 7**

I finally woke up to feet that felt a little better! Not healed yet but definitely on the mend, I was beginning to think I had done irreparable damage to them . . . I felt very happy. I deduced that it must be a Sunday as there had been no trains running since late in the night, there was also much clanging of church bells and many bikes upon the roads. I have travelled northern France a few times before and I was of the opinion that it is a boring and ugly sort of place. Up until now I had only ever travelled through this area of France to get to other places however, and now that I was properly exploring it along its smaller, country roads, I found it to be most beautiful. It wasn't hilly, but there were plenty of little rises upon which tiny villages sat contently, most comprised of only a few houses and perhaps a charming little church. The sun when it shone, bathed the swaying fields of wheat and pea in a soft glow that melted my heart. People were friendly there (mostly), and a cheerful "bonjour" was almost guaranteed at every passing of ways. There were barely any cars on the roads, it was so peaceful and often when I stopped for a look back, my view stretched on and on and I felt giddy that I was so lucky to view it. I could hear the sounds of nature now much clearer as I walked: birds of field and forest alike chirping and insects clicking. I still had to stop every half an hour or so to rest my feet but I felt so good. With Greece as my goal set in my mind, I had a massive motivator to keep going.

As I wandered I came upon a village fête. Cars lined the road until the village itself and then stalls took over.

It seemed that residents were encouraged to make a stall in front of their home and sell whatever they wished-like a bootsale but a lot easier for the sellers! I slowly breezed through, content to just glance at the stalls and absorb the atmosphere on that sunny morning. On one stall I saw a stack of collectable cards which I used to be very, very heavily into. I felt a hidden string pull tight and desire rose in me to buy them, but I resisted. I was pleased with myself for that, it made me feel free and it reminded me of what I may have been doing if I wasn't on this quest: I would have been so board! Screw that! It felt a lot more fun now, since my feet felt better. I said thank you to the universe for having guided me to such a special little event that usually only locals would see. I know its only a fête but it was really lovely! I did tons of walking that day, but never too fast or longer than an hour per stint. I even took a break at noon where I slept atop a hay bale in the warm sun. I saw an abandoned windmill whose sails had fallen to the ground and she had simply been left that way–It was surreal. I made my camp later on in a stand of trees between crop fields. I began seriously debating whether or not to keep my modified bivvy bag or to chuck it, in order to lessen the weight–the tarp was doing just fine on its own. I couldn't decide though. I massaged my feet before bed which I felt would speed their recovery and I thanked them as I did so, they had been amazing thus far! I also made two vows as I lay thinking in my hammock: 1. To never again take any sort of drug alone.

2. To never own an 'entertainment machine' again.

I mused how I would love to find a map right about now . . . I had no idea where I was!

**Day 8**

It rained last night and it continued raining well into the day too, until something like 4pm I imagined. It was too rainy for me to walk but it was OK, my feet needed the rest and I still had plenty of food from the last busk.

So I relaxed, I meditated, I dozed and I thought in that time, it was nice. I watched the birds from my hammock and enjoyed the pattering of the rain on my tarp. When it finally stopped, I explored my surroundings and found a small patch of wild strawberries–yum! After eating all I could find, I packed up camp and continued south east along the road. I walked an hour or so and then the road wound back on itself to the west. I saw a small farmers track which looked to be heading the way I wanted, so I decided to take that. Oh man . . . I got absolutely soaked because the track soon ended, followed by saturated crop fields and woodland I had to push through. It took ages and soon the clouds and night began to threaten. I saw a stand of trees up ahead and made for it.

It was the freakiest stand of trees I have ever explored: there was a weird 'x' in red on a sign at the entrance, and a lone crow cawing at me as I entered the shadows. It was small, only about 20m square and at the back was a metal cargo container all alone and rusted. I wondered if I could get in there as it would make an awesome shelter but on looking through a rusted hole I saw a most strange sight. Inside were five chairs, all facing the back wall and nothing at all else. It was too weird for me and I decided to flee, snagging myself on brambles as I went. On my way out I noticed the corpse of a crow on the ground before me, it was headless . . .

There was no way I was hanging around there a second longer and I ran back to the path! As I continued I heard the crows cawing from the stand–they seemed to be laughing at me. I was so glad I didn't make camp there as I truly felt a hideous force in that place and I trust my instincts. However, it now meant that I was back looking for camp with little time left. I slogged through more wet fields and grass, I saw four falcons hunting the crop fields. Eventually I found a spot to camp on a slope in a forest. I hung my clothes in the hope of drying them a little but it was unlikely. _There is not much worse than being wet through on a long walk._ I felt pretty wretched and decided that tomorrow, I would find a room for the night and dry the kit whilst sleeping well.

This was the first day where I realised I had lost track of date and day. That felt amazing.

**Day 9**

Last night's camp was amazing! I woke up to all sorts of wonderful bird song that I didn't recognise and I could here the scratching and rustling of animals too. I was very tired since I didn't fall asleep for ages because I wasn't sufficiently tired due to my napping but I forced myself up in order to reassert my early regime. There was a grey sky which looked like rain but I really wanted to move and not have another day in bed so packed up camp and struck out. It began to rain, not heavy but that drizzle that eventually saturates everything completely. I had to cut through more wet fields of wheat to find the path. I got utterly soaked again in no time,

but I realised that if this was the worst that France was going to throw at me, then I was going to be fine–it was only being wet after all. I reasoned that in a few hours I would dry off, I wasn't cold so pneumonia wasn't going to be a problem, I knew it was mainly a question of moral and so I kept my chin up! I laughed to myself as I realised–I really am going to do this! I still really wanted a room tonight if possible, but c'est la vie. Eventually the rains died and I began to dry out a little. I found myself noticing the beauty all around me once more and the things that mattered: Swallows, like darts playing in the sky about me, a pair of hunting hawks keeping pace with me as they hovered, cows moving toward me for a smell, dogs guarding their grounds and trying to see me off, I saw it all with such clarity then, I was unfettered by worry and responsibility, I was in 'now.'

I did another busk at a small 'Carrefour' and in one hour, I earned four sandwiches and 10E before I was politely asked to move on. On the road I saw a sign–a pilgrim with a pack and I recalled having seen another just like it a couple of days back. As I contemplated what they meant, two dudes came out of the house in front of me and said 'bonjour.' After chatting with them, it turned out that unbeknownst to me, I had been almost exactly following the 'via Francigena,' which is a pilgrimage route from Canterbury to Rome! This was useful information as I could now use any signs from the route to confirm my heading. I thanked the guys and continued. Next, I stopped in a church I passed along the way :) and I sat for a while. I had to, as my feet were hurting so much I honestly wanted to cry. The church was incredible: It was totally deserted and had tons of art and a wonderful domed roof. I wondered for a while as I looked up, how on earth they managed to create such

'defyments' of gravity, especially so long ago? After sitting for a while I struggled to rise, the pain in my feet (once again at the rear of my ankles) was excruciating. Had I torn ligaments? It felt like I had. After a little bit I was able to hobble onwards, I wanted to get to the next town and try for a room but my feet wouldn't let me, I had to make camp asap, luckily just on the towns outskirts was a small statue of Jesus, behind this was a beautiful slice of forest, too small to be of interest to walkers but perfect for me and my camping needs. With camp set up I felt very relieved and upon exploring the slice, I found a Cep (Pennybun) mushroom which I had never tasted before. Not kidding it was delicious! Some kids came into the slice but even though they were close, I was not spotted at all, I think they were too busy smoking their naughty cigarette all furtively!

**Day 10**

I slept very well, rising just after dawn and hitting the road. I honestly said to myself before bed that I couldn't wait for tomorrow, I hadn't said that in a very long time. The days were now a strange combination of cold and hot: they started off pretty overcast and cool, then in early afternoon, the sun would come out and it was crazy hot until dusk which felt very late, 8pm maybe? I stopped in a small bar for a tea and chatted with the two French women within. They were lovely and showed me a map of the area which provided me with a surprise: Until then I had no idea where I was or how much ground I had covered, it transpired that I was almost in the next region of France–the Lorraine. At the rate I was going, I estimated that I would reach the sea's of northern Italy in three months and then Greece in another three. _I'm not going to lie at all–even then at just 10 days in,_ _there were hard times, times where I wondered what the hell I was doing, times where I just wanted to go_ _home. I have said that it was easy at times, and during those times, it did indeed feel that way, but when the_ _times were hard, they were an all-encompassing hard, and the easy times were long forgotten._ Today was a hard time. My feet were all kinds of sore, I walked an absolute shit-load and I knew I shouldn't have, but what else to do? I couldn't rest, I was consumed with the quest. Once again, there were times when my feet were so sore I had to bite my lip to keep from groaning with my steps. I must have damaged them in a way more serious than I imagined but I had to walk, if I stopped, I worried that I might lose momentum and not start walking again for some time. I was only going to get one shot at this, all or nothing. I walked. In the end I found a salvation.

I stopped at a small stream for lunch and bathed my feet in its frigid waters. It was absolute bliss. Then I massaged them until the tightness was gone before drying them and left my boots off until I left. I did that twice more today, at little rivers that I came across and it helped so much. I vowed to do that every chance I got. My days felt so long and trying then. The baking sun over the days had begun to sap my strength, the fact that I couldn't swim in a sea and enjoy it's heat was grating on me. I began to ask myself even more–why was I doing this? I could simply fly to Greece or hitch-hike. I _t began to dawn on me that this quest was just like a gigantic_

_'vision quest:' Voices would rend at my resolve in my mind, they would try to find every conceivable way for me_ _to end the journey, screaming at me until I took control properly. Once I realised this, I was able to become_ _stronger again–I remembered my reason: Walk to Greece. That was my purpose now and I would not give up._

I had been reading that book on Buddhism over the last few days and I had learned from it. I had learned not to 'grasp' for anything, or rather, to put everything into a positive context, to let things come to me and flow around me or though me, passing me by. _I like this concept, it is often only anticipation or desire that drives us_ _and I see my thoughts doing the same often, for instance, I was often thinking things like: 'I want to swim in the_ _sea,' 'I want to stay in a room for the night,' 'I want to be dry, 'I'm hungry.' I realised that all these things were_

_'graspings,' and further–I recognised that grasping never brings real happiness, only a temporary appeasement_ _of grasping. More often than not, we are already thinking about what we want next, as we consume what we_ _just got–making it a constant cycle of grasping! I realised that if I could cut out my grasping, if I could let the_ _universe give to me and take from me as it wished, I would be at peace. No more of those voices, no more_ _greed. Now, when I notice my thoughts turn to grasping, I try to remember–turn off the grasping, be in the now._

_What does the moment I am in right now need? Nothing at all._

Continuing, I did a little busk but it was far too hot and I had to stop after a short while, I made five Euro and dinner though. I camped up for the night in a bit of woodland just after some houses, not ideal but if I stayed quiet I would have no trouble.

**Day 11**

I slept well, I had some awesome dreams about roller-skating and action, that kinda thing. As I woke up, the first thing I heard was thunder . . . I hadn't put my tarp up last night to stop any rain, I was way too tired and my feet hurt too much to bother. Now I might pay the price, but it was OK, I still had my bivvy folded at the feet end of the hammock so I just pulled that up over me and waited. It was all good, the first hour or so of rain was turned aside but it got worse. Thunder and lightning and driving rain got the better of me and my camp–water began to seep in through the top opening where the bivvy couldn't go far enough to cover it. It was hard to breath in there and I was unable to move until the rain had stopped, unless I fancied a soaking. I tried to take shallow breaths but it wasn't enough. In the end I had to twist my head and put my mouth to the top opening, sucking in the fresh air–basically I was trapped in a bag! I did this for what felt like an age until the rain passed.

All in all, a crap start to the day! It helped make my mind up though–I decided to get shot of the bivvy, it didn't do a good enough job to warrant it in my kit. I packed up camp and continued.

The day was still overcast but didn't rain again, in fact, as I walked the clouds dispersed and the sun came out, it became a most glorious day woop! I stopped in a little village and strew my kit along the roadside to dry for a while. After a bit, I got board so I packed up and continued on up a big hill. It was hard going for me with my broken feet and heavy pack and after a while, I saw that fast-approaching behind me was another walker. Soon he drew abreast of me. His name was Jean-Pierre (J.P) and he hailed from the village we were approaching. A middle-aged man with a bemused expression and a droll tone to his speech. We chatted for a while and I learnt some more French from him, he invited me into his home for a drink. He showed me the garden and I met his mother, whom I felt it respectful to greet her with an English peck on the cheek–it took me back to Xmas as a child when I had to kiss my great nan, something which I dreaded on account of the hair and creases on her face. The old woman (J.P's mother) screwed her face up and spat a string of French from her mouth in response to my kiss, it sounded bad–Fair enough. J.P responded to her and I got a sense of the relationship that was going on: J.P didn't like his mother in the house and his mother didn't like _being_ there. J.P thought his mother was an annoying old crone and his mother _knew_ that he thought so. She in turn, thought that he was a useless, spineless waste of space but had no choice in the matter since her body had failed her. She was like a simmering cauldron that if animated, would have destroyed half the village if it could. J.P was a bit of a wet fish so I could see her side. J.P and I shared some juice and I sat at his kitchen table watching him smack his lips and wonder what to say to me. It was hilarious! I was polite though, I indulged him–going on his house tour and complementing him on his garden. I left as soon as I could though as I wanted to get to Arras tonight ( _grasping!)._

Onwards I walked, the sun was baking but I was now pretty used to it–slow breaths and sun cream. I felt so grateful to be on such a journey. I chucked the bivvy in a bin and stopped to rest, finishing the drying of the kit which I began earlier. I saw a sign for Arras: 13km. That spurred me on and I began walking again, intent on the destination _(more grasping . . . It took me a while to learn!)._ I pushed on longer than I should have, through a sudden downpour and still onwards. I sang to myself as I walked. _When walking such long hours as I'm doing_ _(eight-ish a day) one tends to get annoying, random tunes stuck in one's head, on replay. Often those tunes are_ _the most annoying, terrible tunes you know and sometimes they only repeat a single line, over and over . . ._

_Some examples of my travelling headaches were: That Latin one from Madonna, happiness is a warm gun,_

_heard it through the grapevine, power rangers, pokemon theme, sk8er boi and other such. Real entertainment!_

13km turned out to be much farther than I thought, but I felt sure a great night was waiting for me in Arras town. I finally arrived in Arras, it must have been around six so I had walked nine hours already. I was exhausted but it would all be worth it once I found a hostel, which would mean I could then have a majorly chilled night and in the morning, dry my kit out _again_ since it rained as I was entering town and I was soaked. I was denied this desire however–there were no hostels at all in Arras. The cheapest hotel was 30E and I wasn't prepared to spend that much for one night. So I continued. I should have taken the room . . .

_This is a prime example of how 'grasping' can fuck up our lives: because I wanted to have this 'great night' in_ _a hostel in Arras, a night where I could be warm and dry and in a bed that didn't get water seeping in and_ _maybe a shower, internet and all that, I pushed myself–I walked for longer than I should have and I arrived_ _later than I would have liked, I watched my options dwindle one by one. I then chose to grasp again when I_ _refused to stay at the only place possible, due to cost. I was even offered a lift to the hotel and I turned it down!_

_The universe was trying to help me all the way, but I was too blind to see. One thing I know now: Beggars can't_ _be choosers–the universe will give you options but it's up to you to take them, if you keep on grasping for_

_'better' options, you may end up with none at all–as I was about to find out . . ._

I walked through Arras and out the other side having found no more options for rooms and no places to freedom camp. My feet were killing me and I had begun hobbling again. In the suburbs around Arras, I asked an Indian lady that I met (Nergie) if she would please fill my water bottle. She returned having raided her kitchen, with a bag _full_ of food for me. What an angel! I had been running out of food and it gave me a boost in moral too. It did however mean that I was now carrying even more weight–I was tired and I needed to find camp asap. I said goodbye as I tucked into a huge sandwich she had made for me. I passed through the suburbs and still nowhere to camp. It had begun to get dark now and I felt the flutter of panic setting in. I tried to walk a little faster and look every direction at once, I thought I saw somewhere! I clambered over a fence and into someone's back yard–nope, Back out and on. I got to a world-war graveyard, it had a small alcove to one side which was just big enough to shelter in–yes I thought about staying there, I was desperate! I made for it, asking the spirits of the graveyard if it would be OK as I passed through. Once inside, I saw all the water on the floor and the massive cobwebs everywhere and I just couldn't face it: Creepy crawlies, legs on my face, wings in my eyes and mouth–I couldn't do it, what a weener! I left and slogged on.

I was so desperate that I walked into a concrete yard belonging to a factory, reasoning that if I got up early enough the next day, I could leave and they would never know. There were two trees there and it might just have worked. A guy came out from the house next door and walked towards me . . . I had nothing left, I was broken. I slowly turned towards him and weakly raised my arm. I knew what was likely to happen. I shuffled back his way a little and I mumbled:

"Pardon, J'ai sans maison, s'il vous plait, s'il vous plait."

My eyes filled with tears, I was about to crumble. I felt pathetic and probably looked it too. I hoped it was enough. He simply shook his head and said "Non." I couldn't quite believe it, auto-pilot took over as I reeled with the knowledge that I was totally fucked. I shuffled past him determined not to cry. I couldn't feel my feet anymore but I knew I had to keep going, the road stretched in a hazy street-lamp gloom. I felt anger come to my aid–How could he deny someone so clearly desperate, something so small as a place to rest for the night? It probably wasn't even his property I thought. Man it made me mad and that gave me strength. I could feel him watching me as I went and I decided that I would not turn back. I would keep going and not be humbled. Fuck him! What choice did I have anyway? I saw a forest in the distance just off the road–hope. Once I got there I had to stealthily make my way across a garden and a field to get to it. The field was full of stinging nettles and thistles and I got stung and scratched to fuck but I made it, after all, it was make it or sleep on the curb. Once in the trees I began to make camp but then I heard voices . . .

Two guys had come out from the house who's garden I had just walked through and they had torches–they were looking for me! Fuck! I couldn't let them find me, I didn't have the strength to be told to move on again, it was now dark and I was ready to collapse. I crouched low and froze– silent. They searched for a while but thankfully they didn't find me or see my camp. Quiet as I could I finished setting camp and just as I felt it was OK, then they came out once again! I heard a dog barking and knew my number was up–there was no way I could hide from a dog. But it was OK, they didn't have a dog, it was another house nearby and they failed to

find me once more. I felt very, very lucky indeed. As quietly as I could, I got into my hammock and prepared for sleeping. That night was a long one, I was terrified that every bark I heard would be the dog that would find me. So lucky . . . lessons to learn . . .

**Day 12**

I slept well and made it through the night without being rumbled by man or hound. In the shallow light of dawn, I thanked the universe profusely for this little forest that saved me last night and the luck I had in not being caught. I then broke camp and decided to go a different route out of the camp just in case there were waiting lookouts. Why, at these crucial times where stealth and poise and mindfulness are needed, does the mind decide to tell the body it's time to crap and It won't take no for an answer? The stress of this journey and the upheaval it had created, meant that my body hadn't worked correctly in that department for six days so far!

On the one hand–I was pleased that finally, my bowels had got their act together, but really–why now? Once relieved I continued my escape. I scouted the small forest's perimeter but I found it to be surrounded by farm buildings and houses. In the end I had to bite the bullet and leave by the same way I came. As quickly and as quietly as I could, keeping low I climbed the fence and stole through the overgrown field of stingers once more.

No cries of alarm were raised and I made it to the road. Phew! I got the hell outta dodge! Once sufficient distance had been made from the area I slowed right down, my feet were still very sore and I needed to let the stress from last night dissipate. I stopped a little further on and took my breakfast under a railway bridge–thank you Nergie for the lovely food! The day was making an overcast start as usual, but I felt great. I continued and found a path that took me off the road, It was utterly gorgeous! The path was flanked by raised earth sides as if it were an old riverbed, trees grew from these 'banks' all the way along with little gaps in between, it meant that the sun-which was now out-shined in shafts through the branches, creating a magical world where only I wandered. The earth on the path was full of vitality and gave rise to a lush covering of grass, moss and fern. I was spell bound by this secret pathway as I wandered through, I thanked the universe for having found it.

The only problem on this most wonderful of days was of the tiny and winged variety–Crane flies. _Man I can't_ _stand them! Sorry, I love nature and her creatures, but crane flies–I have had no compassion for since I was a_ _nipper. It's the way they always fly directly into my face, makes me shiver._ They were everywhere all of a sudden, from midday onwards. Literally every 10 seconds while walking I was assaulted–mainly in the face but also my neck, ears, arms, chest (it was so hot I was now only in shorts) and all over, were they trying to mate with me or something? I tried to be 'Zen' about it, I tried to imagine that they were only doing their Crane fly thing and it was actually an honour, to get so much attention from them. But I couldn't maintain it, I was soon flapping around like a madman trying to defend myself as I walked. It drove me absolutely nuts! I wanted to scream in frustration and rage, but I carried on walking.

I began to approach a large settlement (Ecoust-Saint-Mein) as the sun went down, so I decided to make camp now, rather than risk a repeat of last night. I found a site on the side of the road where I simply folded the long grass down to create a mattress, upon which I laid my hammock. It wasn't ideal and it was camping directly upon the damp ground so it wasn't comfortable, but it was camp and I felt safe there. I had learned to take what was offered rather than to grasp for desires and miss my chances. I felt very good about that. After camp was set I watched the sun go down. I wasn't able to set up my tarp as there was only one tree, but I reasoned that the days were sunny enough now–if I got showered on in the night, I could dry off in the day. It is truly difficult to put into words how wonderfully beautiful and utterly peaceful it was that night. After watching clouds form and then disperse, I felt a giddy ache as I gazed this way and that. I was alone but totally suffused with joy, the blue sky gently darkened and I drifted off to sleep under that tree, on my mattress of grass surrounded by gently swaying sweet pea.

**Day 13**

_I had the most amazing dreams that night, dreams in which I was flying, haven't had those in years! I also had_ _a dream in which I had a harem too lol!_ I woke up and felt very achy–even a grass mattress gets hard after a bit. My kit was pretty damp since the morning dew had covered it, but it soon dried in the rising suns warmth. I felt alive and full of positivity, onwards! A couple of towns on, in Noreuil, and I was hailed by a dude on the other side of the road to me. We chatted and I spoke as much French as I could, which was pretty good and he ended up inviting me to his home for breakfast! His name was Bruce and he took me on a tour of his home and garden before sharing a classic, continental breakfast with his family and I. Bruce loved motor bikes and snails

and he was most enthusiastic about showing me both. The snails were kept in a cage in the garden and he told me that the 30 or so now in there, had all come from just two that he had found in the woods long ago.

Apparently it's all about the lettuce that you give them–Bruce made sure to only give them the finest! He advised me to visit 'Flesquieres' where there was a WW2 tank museum. He offered to drive me but I had to decline due to my journey's rules, he didn't quite understand:

"I can only walk Bruce." I lamented "san's auto, san's bus, san's hitch-hike . . . "

"Ok, I just take you to the musee, this is OK yes?"

"Non Bruce!" I laughed. "ONLY walking, you see. Otherwise my quest is broken."

He stared, thought for a while, and then said:

"OK Moss. Bon chance et bon courage!"

I walked on. Two minutes up the road and I heard a car beeping behind me. A silver Renault pulled up next to me and I prepared to smile and politely decline a lift as had happened a couple times so far. It was Bruce.

"Get in Moss, I go there now, no problem!" He was smiling brilliantly, very proud. I sighed inwardly but felt so grateful for this total strangers total generosity–Bruce had a big heart. After explaining again he drove off waving and I continued walking.

I wasn't sure about visiting the museum, It sounded interesting but it was to the north east and thus it was a detour. Bruce had told me earlier that he would phone his friend who looked after the musee, and that I would be expected, so I felt a bit obligated to go, especially since he was so animated about the place and really seemed to want me to see it. The road soon came to a 'T' junction. To the north east was the museum and to the south east, my goal. I hung there, indecisive for a while and suddenly a flock of pigeons flew above the north eastern road. It was a sign, my path was clear. OK! I said to the universe chirpily and with a spring in my step, I set off north east. The sun came out and the road was lovely–narrow and free from traffic. On the way I found a coin on the road, another sign that I was on the right path.

"Thank you universe!" I cried and continued.

_I firmly believe that the universe tries to help each and every one of us as much as it possibly can, without_ _directly influencing. I believe that subtle signs are one of the universe's preferred methods for this. The signs_ _are different for everyone and are very personal, but I believe that if one is open enough, you will discover that_ _there are coincidences about things the that you notice upon your path. For me, those signs are flocks of birds,_ _feathers, coins and purple chocolate bars or wrappers (Milka, dairymilk etc). It's not that–one direction is_ _better than another per-say, more that: The universe knows us better than we know ourselves, and if you would_ _like to be given direction as to a path that you 'should' take, then be receptive and the universe will oblige. Do_ _you know your signs? Wanna find out? Then try it!_

I was passed on the road by five or six bikers to whom I extended my warmest greetings. They waved and said hi back as they sped off, I think they were English! Continuing, I found another coin and I thanked the universe again. Then I found a dying butterfly, it was beautiful and really big. I stood it up on the tip of my finger, it wobbled a little and then flexed its wings. I whispered encouragement as I held it aloft. It didn't fly though. I walked with it for a while but it just didn't seem to have the energy to make it into flight mode. Sadly I whispered that I would launch it, and that this was it–if it could use my launch and open its wings and fly, it would be alright. I flung it into the air and it unceremoniously plummeted into the hedgerow, Aw . . .

I arrived at the museum in the middle of the tiny village of Flesquieres. It was inside an old barn and comprised just one chamber. Inside the chamber was a tank, the six English bikers that passed me and the custodian of the museum. I introduced myself to the custodian and told him that Bruce had sent me, he was glad to see me and it was apparent that Bruce had spoken with him, and I was expected–apparently the musee is rarely open and a special request is usually required, so I was really lucky. I said hi to the bikers and I explored.

Even though small, the museum was amazing. It was totally open, there was the tank: it had taken a shell to the rear and the compartment was all exposed, incredible how so many men could fit in so small a space. Also, all around on the bare earth, were relics that had been dug up and transported here from the Somme area. I chatted

with some of the bikers, one of them was really interested in my tale and my philosophy, she told me that I had really inspired her and that I must be very brave. My chest puffed out. I felt very important! I laughed in reply however and said:

"Or stupid!"

It's very like me to belittle my achievements outwardly. Inside I felt good though. I was also very happy that I had inspired someone.

After the museum, I travelled onwards and came upon a graveyard for British troops that had fought in the Somme. I felt it appropriate to tarry a little there, so I spread my kit on the grass to dry and rolled a cigarette. I sat on the ground surrounded by the graves of all those young men, I imagined that many had fought and died and probably didn't even know why. I looked at the names and the ages chiselled on the white slabs. So many were 20 or 21 or 22. I felt awful. So young, and dead–Barely even begun to live their lives. I raised my cigarette and lit it, offering the smoke to the dead. I felt very, very strange once the cigarette was finished, sick inside with a heavy sorrow. I slowly packed my kit and exited. As I walked away I felt better and the sorrow lifted.

I decided to follow an unmarked lane, which soon became a narrow path, which soon became–no path at all. I had to tramp through farm land once again to rejoin the road. I crossed the damned motorway and then fields of freshly harvested pea. The harvester had failed to collect them all and I gorged upon the fresh, popping treats–

yum! I saw rain in the distance and so I began searching for camp, early so I had shelter. I soon came to a forest just off the road which I named: 'Red slug forest' on account of its slimy denizens, which were everywhere and were bloody huge! _I think slugs are cannibalistic?_ They seemed to be eating one another, I thought. Not too sure though–Google it! If so, then they are one ferocious species! Red slug forest was beautiful, totally wild and peaceful. It took me an hour to set up camp since I misjudged the distance for my hammock to hang, then I had to keep altering it, but got it in the end. There was a huge badger set right next to me and I was exited about perhaps, hearing some activity from it during the night–me being all safe a couple of feet in the air. There were cuckoos and crows above me making lots of noise. I ate and relaxed, preparing for the night. I felt so grateful, I felt in love with my existence. I felt that here, now, in this dew-sparkling, bird-calling, secret badger and slug-infested forest, that I was truly–MossDogg. I was free. I would complete this, and I was loving it. I sent my happiness to the universe as I thanked it over and over. A big rabbit bounced by.

**Day 14**

I didn't sleep that well–it was a very cold night, I hadn't expected it since the night before was so warm. I shivered for a while in my hammock, then I made the decision to sum up some energy and put my thermals on.

I was much more lethargic and tired today than normal. Walking was hard and I found myself losing

concentration often, becoming like a zombie–head down, mind gone. I didn't feel 'in the moment' at all and I was not getting any enjoyment from the day, so I stopped frequently, in a bid to recuperate my energy. It was tough getting a good south easterly bearing, I had crossed into the 'Picardie' region of France, whose roads all seemed to want to go south or east and not in-between! I got to a town called Beaurevoir in which I tried a little busk, but the rain came so I had to stop and shelter. After that, I decided to move on but my water was empty. I saw an old woman entering a house, I made to call out to her but I was too slow and the door closed behind her.

I approached the door that she had gone into and knocked, water was not something I could do without and so far, the people of France had no problem in giving me water when I came calling.

'Roman' answered the door–a young, humble guy who loved his little town and who loved his family even more. He refilled my water bottle and then asked if I would like some food too. I was overjoyed since I was very tired and very hungry, food and human contact were much needed and he took me in. I sat on a stool in the dining area and was introduced to his brother, mother and grandma. They then proceeded to lavish upon me, all the food they could find! They made me a baguette with ham and cheese, gave me fruit and crisps and Roman's mother wrapped crackers, cheese and fruit for my journey. They also offered me the shower but I declined–I needed my smell to protect me on the road! I was truly touched, I wanted desperately to give them something too, but all I could do was take Roman's email and promise to send a message when I got to Greece. I felt a strong urge that there was one more thing I could do for them: I blessed the house and the family. I have not done that before and I honestly didn't know what I was doing or if it would even work at all, I just felt compelled. I uttered words of thanks and asked the universe to watch over such wonderful people. Roman's

mum smiled at me as I left and said that she knew what I did (even though she didn't speak that much English and my French is limited). She had understood even though she didn't understand the words–perhaps it did work? I would like to imagine so. I left in very high spirits and as I turned back down the road, I saw his grandma in the doorway watching me go. We waved at each other–it was such a beautiful moment.

After a while I napped on a bench, then I walked some more. It was a Sunday again I thought, as there was motocross going on which I watched for a while. I decided to set up camp early again today, I was still tired-out and I found a place real quick before dusk had begun. Over the past few nights, my hammocks knots had been failing a little, meaning that during the course of the night it would sag and I would 'collect' in the centre area, this had probably been having a negative impact upon my sleep and so, since I had time, I checked my

techniques and knots. I realised that I had been using a knot meant for a single line and my hammock was a double line. That's why it was slipping! What a fool! I used a different knot in the set up and it seemed much more sturdy–only one way to find out . . .

**Day 15**

I slept much better! It was cold again but I had my thermal gear ready this time just in case. I woke up feeling really good! Once again France greeted me with an overcast morning, but at least there was no rain. I got on with it–packed up camp and walked away. I went through 'Guise' which was the second 'big' town of my

journey so far. I thought it was horrible–big towns are abhorrent to me and I reasoned that the longer I could steer clear of big towns, the better! They feel like: all those people and so little love, life or peace. Blank faces as I passed, no friendly greetings, rubbish, fear and concrete. I tried a busk but some drunk homeless guy came along and sat with me, he proved to be very bad for my business, shouting and glaring at people as they passed.

I got given a can of beer with a wink, very kind but of no use to me, I passed it to my new 'friend' and finished the busk there. I was glad to leave Guise.

My right calf began to complain as I continued, I had already walked a fair bit and had a lot more to go, I just hoped it would stretch out and feel better as I walked. I checked out a discarded bottle I passed and it turned out to be full of whisky or brandy and coke! It seemed the universe wanted me to get drunk that day, but I wasn't of the mind. I had made the decision to stop drinking at the start of this trip and I didn't regret it. _Too many of my_ _Friday's and Saturday's had been spent getting wasted and ending up lying on the pavement, feeling shit and_ _regretting it the next day when I would vow–never to drink again. Only then to repeat the process the next_ _weekend in an effort to de-stress, after yet another dull week in which my life went nowhere and I wondered_ _what the hell I was doing: A spiral of self-abasing, self-loathing and misery._ I was pleased with myself that I could now pass free alcohol by. It rained on and off all day so when I came to rest on a bridge and smoke a fag I was damp through. A nearby dog barked at me continuously as I rested, the kind of barking that really, really gets to you. It drove me nuts and I up and left before I had rested at all.

The roads in this area continued to defy me and after a series of twists and detours, I looked back from atop a hill and saw that I had done a massive half-circle to get there. I began to feel a little stress seep in but I laughed it off. Then the sun began to come out and rejuvenated me no end. It also rejuvenated the flies which were now everywhere and going crazy. I found a wonderful little country lane which I followed through fields and villages. I bought honey from an old man since I felt I needed energy in my diet. I decided that fruit juice would become my 'treat' now, as opposed to chocolate. I would also, where I could: Eat cheese for protein rather than meat, and bread for 'carbs' and fibre. I found the keys to a Renault and someone's house upon the curb and gave them to a dude in the next village I came across. I thought that it was very kind of the universe to offer me a house and a car but I was, at that time, unable to accept–Damn! As I walked on, I mused at how much I was loving walking down those little French lanes in the afternoon sun, it was magical. Every so often I would feel a little tickle as I walked through a strand of silken spider thread that hung stretched across my path. Sometimes I would catch a shining rainbow glimpse of one, slowly undulating in the breeze ahead as if underwater and made of an ethereal, malleable crystal. Nature came to 'inspect' me often as I walked and I felt honoured. House martins did aerial acrobatics all around me and big hunting birds hovered all over the place. I camped in a wooded area which was a little too close to a couple of houses, but it was too good a camp site to miss. Besides, I was used to making stealth camps now. The birds were still calling and the house martins still playing as I closed my eyes.

**Day 16**

I slept well and received an amazing surprise this morning: in the blurry orange light of the dawn, about 15

feet from my swinging hammock were two large Muntjacs grazing. I watched them for a while and then

thought to unzip my hammock for a clearer look, but the sound of the zip startled them and they bounced off–

Magic. I walked upon mainly country roads today, there was no rain but not much sun either. I rescued a few creatures that were foolishly trying to cross the road as I walked: two awesome caterpillars (one bright green and the other hairy and black), one massive snail and two red admiral butterflies. The universe it seems, was again trying to get me pissed–I found a full bottle of rose wine in a bin I passed by, I didn't take the opportunity this time either, and I was pleased by this: the old me would have jumped at the chance. In a tiny local bakery, a baker gave me a free pain au chocolat when I bought a croissant, which was really nice of him. I managed to fill my water bottle when I met a drunk dude mowing his lawn, He was full of smiles and he clapped me on the shoulder over and over as he showed me his family photos. He was crazy, but nice and he gave me water, so thank you crazy guy!

My food situation after eating the croissant and pain however, was totally dire. I had one small piece of cheese, half a pot of honey and my emergency pot of muesli left. Over the last few days I hadn't come across any markets at all when I needed to re-supply, and I hadn't found much food on the road either. I had begun to feel very different inside now, it was a change that I noticed a couple of days ago, but which I had only now realised was more than just a feeling: I felt very low on energy and it was affecting everything I did. I put two and two together and realised that all this walking and not properly eating had taken its toll. I reckoned that I had burnt my bodies energy reserves, more proof I found, in my belt size: I had gone down three holes since I started–Not good. The problem, was that the areas I had so far travelled though were very rural, it was difficult to find cafes or markets. The fact that I was avoiding big towns didn't help my situation either. I hadn't not had a warm meal since entering France. Perhaps, I imagined, it would get easier the further south I went, or when I got to Germany? I had already seen signs to Bruxelles so I thought I was pretty close ( _I had no idea that_ _Bruxelles was to my east, my current bearing of south east would take me near but not in.)._

I continued into a small village and noticed a refreshing-looking river to my right. I tried to get to it as I really wanted to sit down beside it and chill for a while, but it ran behind all the houses there. I then saw a car park that I felt might offer a way to the lake, just beyond some flats so I boldly strode into it. As I crossed the car park, making my way towards the hedge on it's perimeter, I was met with hollering from my left. Though I did not understand all the words, I certainly understood the tone with which they were shouted–I was in trouble! I stopped, spun on my feet and exited the car park by the way I came. I then went directly into the adjoining yard-area from where the voice had come. Three guys, one old and two young, stood within and I walked right up to them. Before they could act I said:

"Le rivier? L'aqua? C'est possible por moi . . . err . . . piscine?" Coupled with some stupid gesticulating I managed to convey the question–'Can I swim in the river?'

The old guy then took command. I was bare-chested and he totally-unexpectedly squeezed my right boob

whilst saying, "Non swim . . . Crocodille!"

They all laughed. I was taken aback a little by the fact that I just had my boob squeezed by an old man, but I reacted quickly and didn't let it show. I stood my ground and asked the old dude how I could get to the river–

crocodiles be damned. He thought for a moment and then spewed a series of directions which were far too quick for me to comprehend. I decided to cut my loses as I probably wasn't going to get anything out of them, so I thanked him and shook his hand. I reasoned that I ought to give him a good, solid-gripped shake so as to show my respect. Not too hard, just firm. I applied the required pressure and the old man yelped, snatching back his hand and blowing on it whilst glaring at me. The two young guys started howling with laughter and I couldn't help but smile bemusedly. The old guy pouted but I could see a twinkle in his eyes now. I grinned as I apologised to him while shrugging nonchalantly. I left him to his muttering while the young guys snickered on.

It turned out the river was only just around the next corner . . .

I had tried to call my parents earlier on a payphone using reverse charges, both the numbers I tried apparently did not accept such calls however–sorry mum n dad! Hover-flies had become my new friends, they came to inspect me all though the day and I thought they were pretty damn cool. They almost looked like they wore aviator glasses and when they landed on me, they would flick their little mouth pieces onto my rubber bracelets

for some reason–always the bracelets! I set up camp in half the time thanks to my new knots which was great, especially since I had done 10 hours of walking and was shattered. Once again I vowed to enforce a better regime to my walking–six hours a day maximum, split by breaks and a big break for lunch.

**Day 17**

Waking up in the forest was like heaven–the sun shone in patches, down through the trees warming my face, I decided to have a little lay-in cos it was so beautifully peaceful. I had slept really well and I remembered to make a big effort regulating my walking today. I balanced my walks with rest stops and eating stops, speaking of which–I ate much much better today too! I hit the road after the lay-in and continued ever south-east wards, receiving even more hover-fly interest than usual, still–all about the rubber bracelet. I found heaps of gorgeous wild strawberries again as well as wild cherries on the way. The strawberries seemed to be growing best on the road-sides where there was a forest behind them, perhaps due to the degree of shade? I started to try and identify the cherry trees from a distance, I wasn't very good at it–yet. I was concious that food was the priority today, although I was working hard on 'not grasping', food was obviously vital to my physical health and therefore it was vital to maintain a look-out for it. I decided that 'grasping' in terms of food, would be looking to buy or find _specific_ things, rather than to take what is there. With this in mind, I headed _into_ the next slightly larger town, which normally I would have avoided, thereby increasing my chances of finding food. Sweet! That town was 'Montcornet.' There I found a great boulangerie where I bought a wholesome granary loaf and a thick wedge of rustic French quiche–quiche Lorraine to be precise :) It was truly the best piece of quiche I ever tasted! I felt so much better and it proved that keeping a good diet is vital for my journey. Also in Montcornet was a small market, outside of which I sat down and busked for a bit. I was asked to leave within five minutes however, and so I didn't make anything. I went inside though, purchasing juice and cheese to complete my food store, That was a big weight of my chest–knowing that I was sorted food-wise for the next 2 days (off my chest but onto my back!).

I continued out of Montcornet and along the county roads, soon I came to a small group of houses and there I met a lovely Dutch woman called Olive. Olive was very enthusiastic about showing me round her home which she was in the process of doing up. She and her husband–who was working in Holland at the time–had bought the old farm house for just 36 thousand Euro! Probably because it wasn't in town at all and had holes all over the place. It was gorgeous though, with a massive garden backing onto a proud, fast-flowing river upon which–

she told me–otters regularly swam by. I found 'Jelly-ear' mushrooms in her garden and ate some cos they are yum. We chatted and I told her of my trip, she asked if I needed anything but I declined. I asked if she needed anything and she got me moving heavy objects to and fro for a while! I didn't mind–it was a break from walking! She then asked me to fix her computer which wouldn't connect to the internet and I did that too.

Finally she gave me 20E for all my help as I was leaving, so it turned out to be better than a busk–thank you universe and Olive!

I continued on past some farms and watched a funny spectacle: a ram was being introduced to a field of 50 or so sheep. It stood there for a while, the sheep huddled together and stood there for a while too, no wool moved for ages–the two parties just stared at each other. Then the ram suddenly bounded toward the flock, the flock gave way, the ram stopped, and then both parties went back to eating grass–that was that! Once that excitement was over, I headed into a forest to make camp, it was great–miles from the road up a long dirt path. It was just me and a couple of massive wind turbines there. It was so quiet and peaceful with the dull, bass, whump-whump-whump of the slowly turning sails. I sat for a while in the forest, just en-wrapped in the peace, I had begun to feel, that over the last couple of days, the initial 'buzz' of the journey had worn off. That excited, giddy feeling of freedom and chance was now gone, in it's place I felt a slow-burning, determined acceptance that this will be hard, but incredibly rewarding and that I will do it–I felt: 'Settled into it' I supposed. I returned to camp and prepared for bed. I began to drift off but was woken by tickling on several body parts. I took a look–ants!

They must have hitched a ride on my coat, which I had sat on whilst admiring the view–they were everywhere!

( _I don't mind ants at all, but they are a pain in the ass when in one's hammock!)._ I couldn't get them out by catching and throwing them, so I had to kill them all by rubbing wherever I was being tickled. Sorry universe!

**Day 18**

I woke after having slept well, yet I felt strangely low on energy. I realised that I needed to find food and fast–

I was almost down to the emergency stash. The day was just beginning to brighten as I moved out. I followed a

long and straight road south east for about 20 km, oh my god it was so boring: Tough, hilly and straight. As I mentioned, I had very low energy today and this road severely tested my resolve. I trudged along it for hours, wondering what the hell I was doing this for . . . Ah but the universe is so funny! Just yesterday I said how the

'initial buzz' had worn off and that I felt I had 'settled into it', and then it throws a day like this at me, in which I feel totally despondent. It's as if it's reminding me that I know nothing at all! It's showing me how hard the road can be, and that I will have to fight with myself to get through. Today was much like a vision quest–where one is alone and faces one's sub-concious, head-on, no distractions.

_I have done a couple of vision quests in the past–only one day and night affairs, but they rank among the_ _hardest experiences of my life so far, and the most rewarding. Try sitting alone, in silence for just 10 minutes_ _and you may see what I mean! Our minds–for the most part–in this day and age, are usually so filled with crap,_ _stress and responsibilities etc., that if we try to switch them off for a while, we find that we can't. Instead, they_ _go into overdrive, responding to the lack of stimuli with continuous wild questions, tearing at our defences in_ _an attempt to get back to 'normal activity'. Questions like: "Why are you doing this?" "Stop it!" Or–"Lets just_ _eat or drink or smoke or SOMETHING!" Imagine that, but all day and all night, no food, drink or sleep. Its_ _one helluva ride!_

I was tried mentally, on this long and lonely road. It took 12km before I arrived at a settlement (Seraincourt), I was desperate for food and water but food was not to be found there, I managed to refill water however, thanks to knocking on a few doors and asking. I ate the last of my bread and honey, and found some sugar sachets from the ferry which I also consumed for energy, but it made little difference. I found it so hard to go on, I really felt like at any minute, I might keel over and not be able to rise for some time! The sun began to shine, the heat became another burden upon me. As I was traipsing over yet another hill, I heard a car begin to slow as it approached me from behind. I turned as it pulled up next to me and saw two women inside. They asked if I was OK, I replied that I was and that I was headed to Rethel (the next big town). They offered to drive me but I declined and told them of my quest. I asked if there was somewhere to buy food in Rethel and they said there was, in fact, there were lots of places! They wished me: "Bon courage!" Smiling as they drove off and that was that. I felt totally different, suddenly I had met friendly lifeforms who had given me energy and wished me well, and just ahead was a place where I could finally eat–things were looking up! I felt like I could do it again.

I forged on and I sang as I walked.

I arrived in Rethel which was a beautiful, little gem of a town. It had a lovely pedestrian area in the middle, a great park, gorgeous architecture . . . Maybe I was bias due to it being an oasis in my desert though!? I bought a brown baguette and then I let myself go a little, also buying a whole pizza and a pain au chocolat from the boulangerie. I had spent 10E which was not good for my budget, but great for my belly! I needed to eat better and scrimping and saving all the time was very hard to do in this area. I needed to buy food when I could and damn the cost! I'm not kidding–it was the best pizza of my entire life! The egg in the centre was divine, the pain au chocolat for afters was heaven, I felt a billion times better. I then found a tourist info place and came out with a dodgy map of the area.

It turned out that I had travelled way further than I had thought, in fact, I was now ahead of schedule! I saw that Reims was only 40km to the south west of me, so I calculated that my first 'pit stop' (A rendezvous in Rhombas with an old friend of mine), would happen in about a week, rather than my estimated two weeks. I saw that I was pretty much in line with Luxembourg. To see on paper, the distance that I had travelled thus far was incredible. I felt totally bolstered by it and was all positivity again. I saw how I had been given so much reward today, after being tested so much. I felt stronger. I left Rethel around six and found a great hidden spot to camp up just off of the road. It was noisy, but as I was fully understanding now–beggar's can't be choosers!

Everywhere I camp has it's negatives, can I deal with them? If yes, then I consider it a good camp! I ate a little more of the pizza and saved a piece for tomorrow's breakfast. I will complete this journey I stated–I was reinforcing my belief in myself and it was working.

**D**

**ay 19**

I awoke feeling very good, it had rained in the night but it hadn't disturbed me. As I got changed for the day, I noticed a new mole on my leg which looked pretty cool–on closer inspection, it turned out to be a tic though . . .

I got it out eventually. On the road again and it took around two hours to the next village. I ate the last of the pizza en-route so my strength and spirits were high. It was drizzling all the way but I didn't worry about it, I felt

like I had 'got it,' the road I mean: I now understood that it was not easy, that I would have to dig deep to find the mental and physical strengths to keep going, so many times I had caught myself daydreaming about

hooking a rope to a passing car and wearing skates . . . And I had only just begun really! I realised that what was driving me now, were my 'reasons:' Exploration–both internal and external, adventure and challenge. I focused on those things and doing that, made me feel much better. I felt that my will power was very good at that point, but even so, I had noticed that in places where the land had been totally boring, or on days where the sun wasn't shining–I had felt tested. I resolved not to fail. I continued.

I had a great roll for lunch, a full belly does wonders for the mind! I ate wild cherries too. I began to watch the expressions on the faces of the people who passed me in cars. Often I saw hilarious expressions of total disbelief which made me laugh, I also saw stony-faced ignorance, sometimes I saw smiles and even an

occasional wave. Thank you for those–every single one made me feel good. I headed towards Voisiers, the signs said 28km–about six hours away. I hadn't taken a dump in five days . . . my insides hurt a little, so I was most thankful when, about 5km from Voisiers, I felt the urge. It can sometimes be difficult to heed the call of nature on the road, I hid behind a bush in the middle of a round about–no one ever walks across those! When I came to 3km away from Voisiers, I decided to set up camp, It was already around five and I wanted to hit the town in the morning and maybe busk. I didn't find anywhere to camp however, I had to go into Voisiers in the end, oh crap. By the time it was dusk I had begun to panic. I followed a farmers lane behind some buildings and a massive robot was looking for me nearby, I could hear its mechanical teeth gnashing and whirling but I escaped through tall reeds. Finally, I crashed through wet grass and more reeds and found myself in a tiny wedge of forest that was well hidden. I managed to set up a camp there amongst the dead wood and brambles. I ate the last of my fresh food and thanked the universe for finding such a place–so close to such a big town–in the nick of time. Bed.

**Day 20**

Another good nights sleep! I woke early and rose with the dawn which felt good. I really wanted to adjust my body clock in order to rise, and sleep with the sun–thus maximising my day. When on the road, one is often governed by the sun, since without its light, nothing much can be done–especially since I wasn't travelling with a decent torch! I find the best way to change my body clock, is to get up at the desired time (which is the hardest part, since often it's earlier then I'm used to and I'm tired and I don't wanna get out of bed!), then my body adjusts to feel tired as appropriate, later on that day . . . In theory anyway! I needed to change my pattern, since the nights were now dark at around 8pm, and it had been no fun twiddling my thumbs in my hammock–in the dark–waiting to feel tired. So I de-camped early and went on my way.

It was amazing–heading into the big town of Voisiers at the crack of dawn, not a soul was around, it felt like I was alone after an apocalypse. I visited every bin I could on my way–both market and street bins, I didn't get much harvest though: A few yogurts and some chocolate moose. I didn't rate Voisiers that much, I felt that the buildings were too high and too close together, so that when walking through, I felt very claustrophobic and just wanted to get out. I visited a patisserie as it opened for the day and got bread and quiche, then left town heading for Grand Pre. I took a country route and oh my God it was gorgeous. The sun came out as I ate wild cherries and strawberries along the way, I saw herons and squirrels and cows aplenty, and peace was abound. It actually reminded me quite a bit of England, with its small, haphazard fields, cattle rather than crops, and old forests dotted about. It was truly beautiful.

I did 18km to Grand Pre and arrived around noon. Once there, I found a little store and tried a busk, tooting my harmonica energetically, within no time I had 10E, a baguette and some ham, so I was sorted! I bought juice and pasta from the store, giving me about two days worth of food, then I continued through town. I stopped for a bit in a little park, the sun was hot overhead and so I laid my damp kit upon the grass to dry. I was almost through the region now, all the way down in its bottom-right corner. The next region was Metz, where I would make a detour to see a friend I made last trip: Guilliam. With this in mind I decided to head due east, that way I would end up somewhere _above_ the city of Metz, and Guilliam's village was _somewhere_ in that vicinity.

Without a map I was driven by instinct. It turned out to be a good choice as the road was lovely, I passed by more beautiful French countryside and after a while, I stopped to dip my aching feet in a thin river. I realised that I head already done about nine hours of walking today, right after I vowed to split my time better and do less walking, so that I could do more enjoying–Bad Moss! I berated myself telling myself once again, that I

would make sure to break regularly, and massage my feet every time I did–since they were complaining again. I was knackered, and I found it difficult to move on after the river, but I had to. I went through Exermont and tried to camp just outside it, but once halfway done, I decided that it was too close to a house and I grudgingly moved on. Panic began to simmer within me once again as the road stretched ahead of me–not a wood in sight.

But then, just around the next bend were a few pine trees atop a knoll. Perfect.

As I was setting up camp, a herd of goats came towards me! They were being shepherded by the most

adorable little boy, who could have only been four or five years old. Switch in hand, he boldly ran at the goats, deftly chaperoning them straight into my camp. His mother and two sisters brought up the rear and I smiled at them all. I was a little afraid, since I have a bad history with dogs and goats, but I swallowed it down and did my best to help, steering the goats off the knoll and into a gated field nearby (not to mention away from my camp). I was also a little worried, since I was camped up in such an obvious place, right next to this woman's land. I needn't have been however, as when the goats were all in and I helped to secure the gate, she turned to me and we started to chat. She spoke no English but with my passing (and improving) French, I ascertained that she recommended I not camp on the knoll since it was often very, very windy there, instead she offered the bottom of her field where there was a delightful little river and some trees. Her only stipulation was that I made sure the gate was shut and then she smiled warmly, thanked me for the help, and then left me to it–excellent!

The field and river area were impossible for me to camp on however, as the trees were too far apart to hang my hammock so I had to return to the knoll where I finished setting up my camp. I just hoped tonight wouldn't blow a gale like she had warned . . .

**Day 21**

Wow! A perfect nights sleep :) It turned out that there was absolutely no wind at all, it was totally fine. I did have the most crazy, terrifying dream of my life however . . .

I was fighting someone and I sensed another presence suddenly behind me, I spun around and kicked out at the new presence before I could stop to think. As my foot connected, to my dismay, I saw that the presence was a God–a good God, all dressed in white with gold trim, and carrying a spear with a gold blade that shone brightly. His face registered disbelief as the kick struck him in the chest, and I gaped back at him–all apologies.

I knew that he would have to punish me in some way, so as to retain his infallible-God qualities. I saw that he didn't want to, but that he knew he had to. With a wave of his hand, he cast me down with remorse, he threw his spear after me, perhaps to aid me? I fell backwards down and down, screaming all the way. I fell through a shaft that was carved from purple rock, its hue darkened every second into a deep purple-black. Suddenly, my body jerked as my fall was arrested by bristling spikes, each about six feet long, wickedly sharp and protruding jaggedly from a mound of earth. I was impaled upon the spikes, several through my torso, I couldn't move. I felt numb with shock. There was something in the chamber with me, something huge and terrifyingly evil.

Slowly, I turned my head towards it, knowing I had to look. It was huge. It leered above me–a demon of deepest hell. Its legs were out of my sight far below, but its chest was bloated and distended with fat, its skin a dark red. Its arms ended in fists gripping a dull knife and fork in anticipation, and its face . . . It was like looking upon pure insanity, but of the most evil kind–not a shred of compassion or goodness would ever grace it. It was hideous and terrible. It slowly brought its gaze to me, a gaze that promised death in ways most painful.

His eyes were windows to a madness beyond comprehension, his lip twitched as he salivated and then spoke just one, elongated word: "Puppet!!!" It echoed from the chamber and filled me with a terror so complete, that my psyche detached from the dream and screamed at me to wake up! "Wake up, _now_ Moss!" I could feel my physical body outside of the dream, and I tore at my own consciousness to escape. I saw an eye struggling to open on the wall of the chamber, the skin moving as the eye-ball beneath jerked. I woke. Holy shit that was intense! I lay in my hammock for a while and just breathed, I couldn't do anything more, I was in shock. That was a dream with meaning, I was totally sure of that.

_Looking back upon that dream with what I believe now, I am certain that the demon I saw, was the mental_ _manifestation of my biggest problem at the time, in fact–it's one of societies biggest problems right now: Greed._

_For a few days before the dream, and for many days after, I was grappling with a sense of my own greed. I_ _started to realise that I had become almost obsessed with food–I was always searching for it, I was often_ _thinking about it, and it was what drove me on. Food was obviously very important to my survival on this_ _journey, but it had gotten to a point where, I was consumed by the pursuit of it. I was greedy. I wanted to_

_'defeat' this, 'demon' within me and I had begun, a few days before the dream, to realise that this greed demon_ _was controlling my actions–like a puppet, and that I needed to begin a process of change._

_Personally, I believe that self, mental change is achieved–in most cases–as follows:_

_1 - Awareness of a problem._
_2 - Acceptance of that problem._

_3 - A desire to change it._

_4 - The change itself._

_As mentioned above: I had already become aware of the problem before the dream–I saw myself being greedy_ _with food, money, and other things, but I didn't realise how deep, or how powerful the problem was until after_ _that dream. The dream showed me, full on, face to face: My greed and what I was to it–nothing but a puppet. It_ _made me realise that it was at that point, a part of me, and that I wanted to change that fact. Having that dream_ _gave me the knowledge and the resolve I needed to make changes. It fulfilled stages two and three, thus I was_ _ready for stage four–making changes. In this way, I realise I was very, very lucky: Most often we have to face_ _our problems alone, with very little, or no knowledge at all of what is going on inside. I thank the universe for_ _the gift it gave to me that night–even if it scared the shit out of me!_

I eventually broke camp into an overcast morning, I walked on, and came across Montfaucon-d'argonne,

where I hoped to find water. It must have been a Sunday, as everything was shut and I saw not a soul. It rained on and off as I continued on out of town. I found tons more wild strawberries, and found it funny, because I was no longer 'searching' for food, but my eyes seemed to be guided to it as I passed. It felt pretty strange, but fun!

It was also scary, it felt like I was relinquishing control–Very odd. After about 20km I decided to rest. Once rested I continued on again toward Verdune, but I didn't want to hit it until tomorrow so I went slowly. Some crazy French guy driving a beat-up old camper drove past me, and then stopped up ahead. He asked me if I wanted a lift and I told him I was only allowed to walk, but thank you. He clearly thought I was mad, and drove off with a wave.

At the next village I came to (Malancourt) he was there again, parked up ahead of me. He appeared to be having some trouble with something so I stopped and asked if he was OK? He babbled on about his radio code.

I would have helped, but I had absolutely no idea what the problem was with it, we said goodbye and I went on my way through the forest. In the next village (Chattancourt) there was a celebration, some sort of fête was afoot, and people had come from the nearby villages to join the revelry. There was food and music and stalls selling all kinds of stuff, it was really great to wander though and enjoy the energy of the people. Then, there ahead of me, was the camper guy _again_! The hell? We laughed as we hailed each other, and I continued on and out of the settlement. It soon began raining, I was hella knackered by then so I decided to make camp asap.

Luckily, I found a place quick and set up camp.

**Day 22**

It rained in the night but my camp held secure. It as still raining when I woke, and I had to wait a little while before the rain finished and I could break camp. I walked the other 12km or so into Verdune, arriving just before noon. I got bread at a boulangerie, mini pizza and some quiche. I didn't think about my purchases this time–I simply bought what I needed and that was that. Before, I noticed that when I had nice food in my pack, I would almost constantly be nagging myself as to when I would get to eat it. Now that I knew–that was my demon of greed nagging–I was able to switch off from it, and walking became so much more enjoyable! I tried a busk in Verdune, but I got moved on very quickly. _I have often found that the people with very little tend to_ _be the most generous, similarly, the bigger the town, the quicker I get the boot! (Verdune was both big and_ _affluent)._

It was a pretty overcast day even at noon, so I explored the city for a while. Verdune was really nice, there was a lovely old quarter, and it was very clean and quite friendly. I was approached by two German dudes who said that they were travelling and asked if I wanted to come along? I was flattered and told them so, I then told them about my quest, and that the only way I could come, was if they dropped me back here at the end. This wasn't

possible for them, so we had to go our separate ways–c'est la vie! I saw a sign for Metz which spurred me on, I was very excited to get to see my old friends–I love to just turn up and surprise people! I finally found another tourist info place and got myself some free maps of the area, which was handy. I decided to take the country road out of Verdune to the east. I must have been losing strength because my pack felt decidedly heavier, what didn't help though, was that the said country road, was major hilly! It did, on the plus side however, meander through a gorgeous forest. The rain started so I took shelter within and found a patch of wild strawberries to munch! The sun came back and I continued. I felt amazing, all alone, just wandering thorough the mighty French forests. I came to Moulainville which blew my mind, it was so peaceful and surrounded by nature. It definitely had 'secret retreat' all over it, especially since Verdune was just half an hour away–take note! I continued on through one more town then ate, camped and slept. The sun was still shining as I closed my eyes, but it must have been gone seven I thought . . .

**Day 23**

I had a really nice night: Warm and cosy. I dreamt of missiles exploding all around, which made everyone pass out, a body-double of them form, and then each body-double, killed the original person while they were out cold. Some people (like me of course, cos it was my dream!), didn't die, and we banded together. My ex-girlfriend–Clare, was among the survivors. It felt odd to dream of her, but at least I wasn't dreaming of my first love anymore! That took me over ten years to forgive myself for (guilt was another of my bigger demons).

I awoke to see the dawn, red and spectacular. Shepherds warning though eh . . . I walked south and hit a main road which headed towards Metz–now only 47km away! I couldn't believe how far I had come. I followed the road as it turned east, toward the only patch of turquoise left in the greying sky. I walked 20km and thankfully, the rain held off. I was walking along the 'tour les Mars,' which I discovered later on, was a world-war heritage thing. I finally discovered what the weird long bags that people hang on their front doors were: baguette bags!

They actually deliver fresh baguettes every day out there! Wow! If only I had known earlier . . . I felt then, as I walked contently along, that I had 'cracked' northern France: I had learned that I need to re-supply every two days rather than every one, due to markets being few and far between; I had learned that boulangerie's and patisserie's are the best for fresh, hearty food; I learned that busking is pretty hard, but rewarding and I had learned that bins were pretty much impossible while backpacking–it's the wrong time of day for it. I noted that there were very few footpaths in northern France, which meant that I was often travelling on the roadside–not great for walking, great for bikes though! It was a very beautiful place, once one 'gets a little deeper' out there.

I stopped for a rest in the next village I came to. I was concious that I didn't know exactly where to go, to get to my friends village of Rombas. I knew it was north of Metz, but that was about it, and I felt notably blind about direction–I needed a sign. I continued right to the end of the 'tour les Mars', ending in the town of Mars-la-tour, where I wandered around being lost. I checked out a bus map to try and work out where I was. I saw

'Hagondange' to the north east. Hagondange was a place I remembered visiting while with Guilliam last visit, and I knew that it was very close to Rombas. Elated, I asked a random guy, which was the way to Hagondange (since the bus map made zero sense). He told me that it was the opposite direction to the way I was about to go–

lucky I asked! I took his advice and headed north, following the main road and bus route. It was only a few stops on the bus route according to the map. . . After a while, I realised that those buses obviously didn't stop all that often–I walked for miles and still only passed two stops! I got to 'Jarny' as the sky was beginning to hint at darkening. I was knackered, but I felt close to Rhombas and I wanted to keep walking, but I knew my feet would not appreciate that, I saw a bar up ahead and decided to go in.

It was a sports bar, and inside were Frenchmen indulging in different forms of betting. There was horse racing on TV as well as football, and a large table of card players. Most of the eyes turned to look at the odd guy with the big rucksack, who had just come in and collapsed at the bar. I asked for directions to Rombas, and once the guys had argued a bit about which Rombas it was, I was told that I was again, headed in the wrong direction!

There was a road literally opposite the bar that I should take, then turn right at the junction and bear left then . . . Honestly, there were so many different sets of instructions, coming from so many people that I lost all focus and it all went in, and out of my head. I was left thanking them all profusely and wondering why I had asked. I decided I needed a drink so I turned to the barman, he then asked me why I was heading there, and what I was doing with so large a pack and so dishevelled an appearance, several others were listening in as I, in my halting French explained what I was up to.

When I had finished he retrieved an ice-cold coke from the fridge and handed it to me, man that was the best coke of my life! Lots of things had been 'the best of my life' on this trip. I think it was because I was really _living_ , for a change. Then he told me, after a discussion with several guys there, that someone was going that way and that I could have a lift. I must say that I was weak at that point, I was tired and it was late and I was lost so I seriously considered it. I declined however, reminding the barman to remind the guys, that I could only walk. It was then pointed out to me, that Rombas was the total opposite direction to my walk, and that in fact, if I get a lift there and then continue the walk from there, I have done more miles walking than I would have otherwise. I thought about this. Going to Rombas was an extra to my quest, not the quest itself, I was only going because I really wanted to see my friends there. If it didn't subtract from the mileage of my journey then I agreed that just this once, since I was lost anyway and since I had not asked for it, I would take a lift.

Later, as the car pulled away from me and I waved to the kindly guy who had given me the lift, I asked myself if it was wrong. I didn't feel bad about it. As far as I was concerned, because this was a detour and not the journey itself, I was allowed–Sweet. I still had 9km to go anyway. He had dropped me at a forest on the outskirts of Rombas, telling me to continue through, and I would get there in a couple of hours. It was twilight and getting dark fast, today was turning into a bit of a mission. I was so close though, did I continue and hope Guilliam was in, or did I camp up now and wait until tomorrow? The logical person would have camped up.

The careful and conscientious person would have too. The idiot would continue on however . . . The road went up and down and was long, I hurt my foot going down a steep part, it felt I had pulled a muscle and I had to limp from then on, but what could I do? I had set my mind, so I continued. Eventually, in the dying light of the day I found Rombas and nearly jumped for joy–I didn't have the energy though. I went via memory through the streets and arrived at Guilliam's door. I rang the bell and imagined the look on his face.

Nothing. I rang again. Nothing. I knocked. No answer. I had no phone so I thought for a bit. I went across the street to knock on his parents door, but I couldn't remember which one it was–I tried them all. A bald head came from an upstairs window and hailed me. I explained in French, that my friend was not in, so I was looking for his parents. Luckily he knew my friend and he knew his parents too, he showed me the correct door. I rang the bell. I had met his family last time too–they were awesome, I struggled to remember their names in time.

No one answered however. I rang again and knocked. Still nothing. Shit! I sat on my friends doorstep and waited–It was all I could do. Time passed and the night drew in. A man saw me from an upstairs window opposite–me on the step, rucksack next to me, he must have thought the worst because he then pointed at me, smiled and then placed his hands together as if in prayer: He would pray for me, that was sweet. His curtains then shut. A woman walking a dog came past and the dog had a sniff. Later, the woman came back and seeing that I was still on the doorstep, she asked if I was OK. I said "Yes thank you, I am waiting for my friend". She asked if I wanted some food or drink–I lit up. "Yes please!" I chirped. "Thank you, thank you!" She left and returned 10 mins later with a baguette and a mug of hot coffee, What an angel!

It was now full-on night, I was huddled in Guilliam's doorstep preparing to get an uncomfortable sleep, but the coffee wasn't going to let me. I don't drink coffee much because it makes me go a little crazy and it inhibits my sleep a lot. But it was OK this time, I didn't care really, I was actually having a lot of fun on my doorstep! I said hi to everyone who came along, a car passed and people waved, Then it stopped and reversed back to me. A tall man dressed all in white-flowing robes got out, he smiled and asked if I wanted something. I couldn't understand what–then he handed me a small white dish with small brown things in. I wondered if he was offering me drugs and was just about to refuse, when I realised that they were dates! I took a couple and thanked the kind stranger, who got back into his ride and continued. 'How lucky I am,' I mused–even in a small town, in a small street, in a doorstep, I am helped and loved by the universe and other beings. I felt very blessed.

Some time later another car pulled up and a guy got out, he started to walk towards me and then stopped.

"Moss?" he asked "Is that you Moss?"

I jumped up and smiled.

"G!!!!" I exclaimed.

He had cut his hair short, but it was Guilliam alright. We hugged and appraised one another. He couldn't quite believe that I had just appeared on his doorstep, and his face remained totally astonished. He told me that I was

very lucky, as he had been at a party and had only returned home to pick up some gear.

"I _am_ lucky!" I said smiling.

He took me inside and bade me put down my gear, before asking the other guy if I could accompany them back to the party. The guy said yes (very decent of him), and so I hopped in the car with them and onwards!

The party was great fun, everyone was sat in the porch at a table, with drink, weed and music. We played games and had fun long into the night before heading home. I had smoked way too much and drunk a whole lot of whisky, but I had got everyone talking about life and philosophy, and they hadn't seemed to mind, it was all good! I crashed on the sofa at G's place, very contentedly.

**Day 24**

I awoke feeling pretty fuzzy thanks to the weed, I resolved to give that up for good starting now. _I had smoked_ _cannabis off and on since I was 18–almost 20 years. I had always used it as a way to 'chill', escaping stresses_ _and problems for a while, but only now was I feeling, that I did not 'need' it in order to live a happy life. I was_ _beginning to find better ways to do that now–after so long–which made me feel very positive._ I shared a great breakfast with G, and then we went to a big woodland in Rombas for a walk. The forest was huge, with a public area and lakes. I found some wild strawberries but nobody else dared eat them–looking at them as if they were unclean, so odd: That was _real_ food! It was eerily quiet in the deep woodland area, nothing stirred. We explored an old quarry with two of G's mates and then stopped for a smoke. I declined! I didn't feel bad about it either, I felt content enough in myself to not need any. G's friends then told me, that the reason this woodland was so quiet, was becuse there was almost no mammal life at all. The reason for this–they then explained–was that after the forming of the EU, a law was passed where this public forest or park, represented a danger to its visiting humans, in the form of diseases carried by animals. So they 'removed' all the animals . . . I'm not sure of the means. How idiotic! I felt awful, it disgusted me that we can feel so superior, that we play god and do something so short-sighted and foul. I wanted to cry for the forest, which I could now see, was so sad and lonely. Without mammals, how will such an ecosystem survive long-term? It shows how detached from the world and nature, many of the people with power are.

Later, G took me to visit Joolz: another of my old friends here, and one whom I was very excited to see. He had been the life of the party last time, a big, enigmatic smile on his face and always entertaining everyone. As G's car sped off and I heard Joolz's footsteps approach, I smiled. But then I saw his face: Joolz was sad and under pressure. His hair had thinned heaps since last time and there were long, deep creases on his forehead from stress. I felt so bad for him. I said hi and we embraced, then I asked if he was OK. He just nodded and invited me though the house and into the garden where a gazebo was erected. Inside were three others whom I didn't yet know. I smiled and said 'hey', greeting each in turn and trying my best to remember names (which I forgot instantly). Joolz and I then sat down and I noticed that on the table, was a–not insubstantial–pile of weed.

'Oh great'. I inwardly thought.

Pretty much instantly, two of the guys began rolling joints and I began to wonder how I was going to get out of smoking with them. I felt safe enough with them, especially since Joolz was there, but there was something that I felt was odd, something told me to blend in on this night, and that meant smoking with them. It wasn't so bad–only one more night of weed and then no more. So to fit in, I began rolling too. I only had a small piece of hashish left and when they saw it, they laughed and asked me about it. I replied by saying that the weed in England was too strong for me–being mostly grown unnaturally, under lights–Hashish was milder which I preferred. We chatted as we rolled and then shared the smoke. Everyone chilled and I got way stoned! I was totally unused to their level of smoking, since I had cut down years ago. I started to spout philosophy as I usually do, I felt very comfortable then. I knew that there was something going on under the surface, but I also felt calm, and in-control about it. The main guy, who was to my left, was absolutely en-wrapped in the things I was saying, and when I carefully picked a bug from my arm, then put it on a leaf, he looked utterly amazed and asked me, "You didn't kill it?"

I replied "I try not too!"

I then asked him what his story was, and everything became clear. He was from Algeria and was the head of a group of drug runners there . . . Joolz was one of his trusted circle, which explained why he looked so stressed–

he was in deep. I felt no fear though, I think I realised that if felt afraid–I would act afraid, and then the shit would hit the fan. So I casually asked him all about 'business.' It was amazing really, he told me the 'in's and out's' of the trade: How it was grown in the Algerian hills and then smuggled into Europe on boats. We smoked more and more and the night disappeared. I spoke to another guy there who came in later–he was also born in Algeria and grew up a shepherd. He told my of that life: Growing up with a crook in his hands, staying in the hills and perfecting his art. He told me that he was left alone with the sheep from just six years old, incredible!

Then some talk went on between them, I couldn't understand it all, but I gathered that they wanted to offer me a deal.

Joolz had told them, that last time I came in a van and that I never had any trouble at borders. I realised that they were going to offer me a part in the business! When the main dude turned to me, I smiled (I think being stoned helped as I was very relaxed!). I then explained how I _could_ totally do it, but the problem, was that I was not in anyway motivated by money, so no matter how much–even if it were billions–they could offer me, I would not be interested! He pondered this for a moment and then his eyes brightened, he shook his head smiling and declared, "Amazing!" We laughed. We chatted some more, then once again the talk turned more serious amongst them, and suddenly Joolz and the head dude seemed to enter a more heated discussion. Then they all left! I was alone in the gazebo! Wtf? It was cool though, I just sat there in the darkness (they had turned out the lights as they left), and opened my senses. I couldn't hear anything though. I waited.

After 20 minutes or so they returned and kept the lights off . . . A couple of them carried bags. Then the head guy opened them, one at a time: Weed. Shit loads of it! He smelt each bag and then proceeded to roll a joint from one, as a sample I guessed. We all shared it and I was sent tripping. This was pretty strong stuff! He told me that this was a new crop from Algeria, and asked me what I thought. I told him it was awesome! Then he meticulously separated and bagged it all up into smaller amounts. There must have been kilos of the stuff. I pictured a police raid happening. Would I be guilty of some crime by association? I had no idea. Would they understand if I said I had smoked with them because I felt my well-being was at stake if I didn't? After splitting it down, he gave a bag each to the other guys and then those guys left. Talk then turned to food and finally the head dude also left after saying goodbye to me–he was a really nice guy, but I wouldn't ever want to get on his bad side! It was at last just me and Joolz.

"What have you gotten into Joolz?" I asked. "No wonder you look so stressed!"

Joolz smiled and rolled his eyes, but it was an empty smile. He knew he was in deep and couldn't get out. We spoke for a while and I urged him to 'consider making some changes,' but whether I got to him–I wasn't sure. I truly hoped so, as it was a terrible travesty to see one–so full of life–become so under pressure and beaten. We then went into town for some food.

Joolz told me that there was only one place, still open so late. It was a little Vietnamese place, run by an old man with a lazy eye. he didn't appear to like me at first, I think it was because I tried to keep looking him in the eye–as is my want in conversations–but was unable to, since I couldn't ever quite work out _which_ eye to look in. I felt uncomfortable, he probably felt pissed off! Good times! I watched him cook our food for a bit and then I was told I had to sit down–I was disturbing him lol! I played a game with Joolz then, I could see that he was a little uncomfortable and didn't like it when there were silences between us, so I deliberately remained as silent as I could and just stared at him with a grin. I felt his discomfort rising, then the food came–Yum! After, Joolz told the old chef my story and he appeared a little more receptive, he in turn told Joolz–who translated–his story: He left Vietnam with no qualifications or money, totally alone, and walked westwards while learning to cook on the way. He finally arrived in France after four years and started the restaurant we sat in–Incredible! I felt like my journey was minuscule in comparison and thanked the old man for his food and his stories. Joolz dropped me at G's place for the night and I slept.

**Day 25**

I got up at nine. I wanted to leave as soon as I possibly could, the road was calling me. I said goodbye to Guilliam and he wished me luck. I told him that whenever he may come to the UK, I would sort him out. I left from his doorstep, back on foot. I felt pretty good considering the late nights and smoke–although I did feel pretty fuzzy in my head–but I felt that it would clear by tomorrow, so I didn't worry. I picked up some supplies at a supermarket just out of town, then went to go for a busk in a spot I tried last time I was there, but it was

already being worked by another. I wanted to head in a south-easterly direction as usual, but it was pretty difficult due to all the rivers on my route. I just took it slow and didn't worry about it too much. Eventually I got into the countryside once more, I was desperate to call my mother as I knew my parents would be worrying about me, and it was very soon her birthday. I wasn't able to however, since all the phones I passed were card only. In the small, countryside hamlet of Sanry-les Vigy, I found a tiny local bar and I decided to ask inside if there was a phone I could use. I didn't even manage to get inside however, as there were four beautiful women outside whom I got chatting with. I told them of my journey, and that I wanted to call my mum since it was her birthday and they gave me a mobile phone. I was blown away–such kindness from total strangers toward a dishevelled road-bum! I sent a text and my dad called back to the phone. Mum was so happy to hear from me, and the women at the bar sung happy birthday to her in French! I left the bar feeling elated, the women called goodbye as I waved. I headed towards a forest I could see not far away. The sun began to go down, all orange and reds as I strung my hammock beneath the trees. I felt so grateful to be alive. I thanked the universe for everything I possibly could, and sleep took me.

**Day 26**

I awoke just after dawn and rested in my hammock for a couple of hours since it was too peaceful to move!

Once upon the road again, I continued due south-east. The sun shone brightly, so walking was hot work. I did about four hours along little country roads, my head still felt pretty fuzzy, which I really hoped would dissipate sometime soon. I had begun to attract an unwelcome visitor on the road now–A fat fly, like a blue bottle only flatter and black, kept coming to annoy me. It would buzz in from nowhere and then circle me, getting closer each time, before trying to land on my skin, usually my exposed legs or arms. It was careful to land softly so that sometimes I didn't feel it and flick it away. When it accomplished a landing, it would then bite me–the git!

There was only ever one at a time, but there may as well have been a million–they were that annoying! A horsefly I believe. I love nature and I love animals but I have to say, those flies earned my wrath, and I added them to my list of creatures that I had few qualms about destroying. I found the most epic patch of wild strawberries on a bank and ate a butt ton, then I rested on a bridge at what I thought was noon. Something was up with time–it didn't feel like I had been walking for long, yet when I asked a bunch of kids what the time was, they showed me on their phones that it was 4pm–what the hell? I managed to find a whole heap of food from bins that I passed en-route today: I got cooked sausages, cake and lots of bread, enough to sustain me well.

Here is a list of things I have found upon the road thus far on my journey:



Lots of rubbish such as: nappies, plastic and packaging, broken items.



Food and drink such as: whisky, wine, nougat, chocolate and a bag of nuts.



Furniture such as: a French bureaux desk, a broken mirror, a kitchen sink.



Clothing such as: a black sparkly scarf, singular gloves (both work and casual) and many hats.



Other bits such as: a left flip-flop, a car stereo, a vibrator, CD's, and someone's keys.

It began to appear, that I could find almost anything on the roadside, if I spent enough time looking!

I kept walking. After the horsefly assaults and the crane-fly apocalypse of a few days ago, I began to think of myself as pretty accustomed, to being 'investigated' by nature. I mused that this was a good thing, since I was living so closely with her now. I stopped at two rivers along the way and tended to my sore feet. At the second river, as I sat on the bank with my feet immersed, and a spectacular mini dragon-fly of some sort, landed on my hand. It was a dark, iridescent blue, with black, lace-like wings and a head like a praying mantis. It sat there for a while, totally chilled and I watched it as closely as I could–utterly fascinated, until it flew off again.

Awesome! Then, after a minute or two, it came back and perched on my hand once more! I was enchanted, and so I stayed for ages just absorbed in watching them and relaxing. Eventually I continued, and I found that I was about 5km from the–pretty big–town of Faulquemont, so I decided to make camp. I found a truly magical place, right next to a river that was full of fish and unfortunately–mosquitoes, but it was OK, it just meant that dinner at the riverside was quicker than I would have liked! I strung my hammock between two very small trees (more bushes really), but that was all I found there–I didn't want to move on anymore. I just hoped they would hold me up through the night . . .

**Day 27**

Somehow the little bushes managed it–just! My hammock had bowed considerably during the night, and I had ended up curled in a heap in the middle, but I managed to sleep pretty well. I got up just after dawn, then packed up camp and continued into Faulquemont. I tried a busk at the 'Super u' store, but I was moved on very quickly, so I shopped for food, filled my water bottle at a bar, then left town. I had begun to notice that I was moving through phases on this trip, and I recalled that it had been the same on previous journeys.

_The stages always began with a wondrous, 'full of life' phase, in which I have a boundless energy, and revel in_ _my new-found freedom. My body has full stores of glycogen and strength during this phase, and I am always_ _looking about me while walking, keen to take in every detail. Next, there comes a phase when I realise, I have_ _not been properly attending to my physical well-being while revelling, I have just about used up my stores of_ _energy, I feel tired and drained. I am no longer revelling so much as at this point, I am now way more focussed_ _on survival, and sourcing food–I often find myself walking head down as if in a dream. Then comes a phase_ _where, if I manage to get my physical well-being back on track, I start to begin revelling once more and_ _exuding more energy. That was the stage I had attained here._

I realised, that there was an important balance to be made between revelling and survival. I also noted, that the key difference with this trip as opposed to previous ones, was that here, I had a reason, and that was motivating me to keep going. All the other trips were more like wanderings, and had all ended when I became board, and I had become board because I was not motivated–I had no reason! I had a reason now, and it was huge–Greece!

Later on in the afternoon, I found myself sitting in my boxers on a small country lane, waiting for my clothes and boots to dry in the sun . . . I had travelled far, and I chanced upon a very lucky find at the village of Grostenquin: The internet, and it was free! In a tiny library run by a wonderful woman called Marie, there was a solitary, old PC in a small room, that guests could use. It was great to be able to check-in with friends and family on Facebook, and I spent a good half-hour composing messages to everyone. Marie introduced me to all the children that were learning in the library, and she told them that I was walking really far, to other countries, whereupon they asked to take my picture. It was such a beautiful, wholesome atmosphere. We shared cake and she even gave me a can of coke for my journey. Thank you Marie! I continued onwards, feeling very happy. It was incredible, what an oasis of care and love Marie had created in such a small place, and how it permeated all around, I was now taking a piece with me to share along the way–goodness is a wonderful thing.

The sun shone that afternoon and at Virming, I decided to take a country-lane detour, recommended to me by an old woman sitting on a chair in her porch. It led across a river and into fields of corn, I stopped at the river to dry my sweaty gear–hence the boxer short thing above. Once I had dried my kit enough, I clothed myself and continued through the fields. It was a gorgeous journey that took me towards a hill upon which, I could see a nice forest which I felt would be great to set camp. The lane suddenly stopped however, all of a sudden, for no discernible reason! I could either back-track or forge a path through the crops. _I don't back track cos I'm stupid!_

I continued through the fields in the direction of the wooded hill and soon came to a marshy area, ringed with tall rushes. My path was blocked by a thin stream with muddy banks and I decided that I would jump it, and then continue. What I hadn't counted on, was the fact that I was about to attempt a jump with a huge pack on my back, and that the banks were more than 'just a bit muddy,' they were treacherously slippery, quagmires. I took a few steps back for a run up, ran, and leapt! I then realised that I would fall short of the other side. 'It won't be too bad.' I thought as I prepared to land . . .

My feet literally disappeared into the black slop, then my calves and knees too. My entry sent a shower of gunk up into my face and hair and for a moment, I paused in utter shock. Shiiiiit! I heaved myself out of the foul mire and assessed the repercussions, having now made it to the other side. I was a mess and I stank–even more than usual. One leg was worse than the other and was totally black with murk. Luckily, my bag and kit were OK. I tried to wipe some off with long grass but it didn't really do much. Up ahead was a group of farm-boys and I would have to pass them to continue. In fact, I wasn't sure anymore if I _could_ continue–there was another screen of reeds . . . I approached them and hollerred, since they were upon tractors. They very kindly stopped their work to have a good old laugh at the guy who fell in their mud. They then told me that there was indeed, no way through to the wooded hill there, and that I had to double-back for a bit, then take a right. There was a great deal of hushed laughter as I walked away, who can blame them I supposed! I took their directions and went through another field but finally got to a road. There I waited in the sun while the mud dried, in the hope that I could maybe flake it off. It worked a little. I berated myself for taking the crazy shortcut like I

always do, they always end up in stuff like that. Then I laughed, and I realised that it's going through stuff like that, that makes life so fun!

So I continued on, and when I saw another chance for a shortcut did I hesitate? Did I *uck! Once more I tramped through fields of sweetcorn and wheat before making it to a dense forest, it was too close to houses however, so I continued on and through to another road, this I followed up to the top of a hill where I discovered a beautiful hidden village–Montdidier. Just one small road with a few houses and the most gorgeous forest and view. I filled my water at a kindly woman's house, then made camp in the forest, just on the edge of town.

**Day 28**

It became official–I was filthy. There always seems to be an event when I travel, which pushes me into full-on bumness. This trip: it was the marsh jump. My first Euro trip: It had been when Steve threw up on the pillow next to me and I didn't realise until morning. Another trip with George and Amber: it had been when I fell into a canal . . . I was beginning to see another pattern here! I absolutely stank too, it was proper swamp-mud, I really wanted to clean myself up, but it was Sunday again, nowhere was open out there at all. It was however, a beautiful, sunny day so I hit the road. I left montdidier and the gorgeous view, travelling along the road to Albestroff. It was quite a nice little town so I tried a busk, but the people there were too rich to be generous and I was quickly moved on _(Sorry, that is a generalisation–I know, but it's generally true!),_ however–the store owner came out and started chatting with me, I told him all about my journey and he took pity on me, he gave me a roll and some drinks from his store, thank you! I continued through the forest and hit Munster on the other side. Munster had a pretty cool church in it, but nothing else really so I carried on.

_I am pretty board of churches now, having visited tons while on my travels. A church has to be mighty unique_ _to pique my interest now!_

The sun became very hot and I was soon wet through with sweat. I rested at a lake and took lunch while watching the fish. After Munster came a huge forest, at least 10km wide I reckoned. No sign told me this however, as I plunged into the first treeline. That was hard going, as once within the forest I was assaulted by the flies, both mosquito and horse. There was no respite from them, and I wasn't able to take a break because of their ceaseless attacks, I had no choice but to continue along the road. Eventually, I found a bit of open ground and rested there for a whilst doing some kit repairs. I fixed the tear in my sleeping bad and removed the stupid toggle that had been whacking me in the face at night, I also repaired a hole in my hammock netting, cleaned off my trousers, and switched them for my shorts since it was now hot enough. It made my bag heavier, but c'est la vie. I carried on through the forest and the heat, about 5km more and I finally emerged, hitting this amazingly awesome, medieval-style town called Fenetrange.

I wasn't able to enjoy it all that much since, as I mentioned before–It was Sunday and everything was shut. I slumped against the church in the shade and rested for a while. After leaving town, I traversed a large bridge and there below was salvation: A wonderful river, flowing fast and shallow and clean! Wasting no time, I ran down the bank, threw my pack down and my clothes off until just in my shorts, and then took to the water with all my dirty clothing in tow. It was bliss! I sat in the cool waters, rubbing my clothes clean while the sun kept me warm and the townsfolk wondered what the hell I was on. I wondered what the hell _they_ were on since they weren't joining me! Once I had cleaned my gear and myself, I returned to the bridge where I laid everything I had washed onto benches in the hot sun. I didn't care a jot that my undies were on show to the traffic, I was a bum, deal with it! When all was clean and dry, I packed it up and continued.

Once back on the road and in the sun, I began to realise my fatal error: In washing myself so well, I had removed an awesome layer of protection that had built up over the last four weeks upon my skin, now I felt keenly the sun burning me. Sweat, grime and old sun lotion had kept the suns rays from harming me, but until now I was totally unaware. I had to rebuild this layer. I slathered sun screen all over me and got to walking, soon feeling the sweat flow and mingle with the lotion. Sweet. The road I took was awesome, it took me exactly the direction I wanted to go, pure south-east. It was very up and down, but each 'up' part took me higher, so that every time I crested a rise, I was met with better and better views, it was utterly incredible. I keenly felt very lucky to be doing this, and thanked the universe. I found some juice along the way, thanks again! I got a few beeps from passing cars which added to my cheer, perhaps it was the German/French mixture

that was made people a little more chirpy there, or perhaps it was the air from the mountains up ahead? Or perhaps, they just really liked my rolled up shorts?! I ate and then looked for a camp, finding a great spot on the brow of a hill just inside a pine forest. There I watched the sunset in glorious fiery-orange hues. I wondered what the sunrise would look like too?

**Day 29**

I arose at dawn, I was very tired and really didn't want to, but I forced myself so that I didn't waste the sun. I was glad in the end, the sunrise was spectacular and it filled me with hope and energy for the day ahead. My food and water levels were very low, so I had to focus on replenishing supplies. I walked down the hill towards civilization, three towns I passed through and no shops to get supplies did I find. I saw a sign to Sarrebourg which was a big town, it was south rather than south-east, but I was desperate for supplies now so I headed for that. The road twisted and turned and then after a couple of hours, I approached a big main road–the N4. I saw that Strasbourg was now signposted as 60km to the east, but I also saw Sarrebourg again, 9km to the west. I realised that I was grasping. I had gone too far in the wrong direction already and I decided that I wasn't going to detour anymore. I decided to throw caution to the wind and go south-easterly, hoping that I found supplies en-route. I could see big mountains in that direction, but I reckoned I could travel east along their base rather than go up.

The road took me through lots of small villages like Hommarting and Arzviller. The language spoken in the area had changed to strange mix of French and German, just when I felt I was getting into my stride with my French! I filled up my water at a Frenchman's house who, in German, told me that there was a shop in the next village–St. Louis. I headed that way and found half a stale baguette on the road, it was tough and dry but I ate it. I was hungry! I got to St. Louis and found the little shop. It was the kind of shop that, because it was in the middle of nowhere, it charged three times the going rate for its stock. I didn't have a choice though, and I got two days-worth of supplies. I continued following the only road out, towards Dabo. I realised that the road was taking me exactly where I wanted to avoid–the mountains. I had wanted a nice easy route to Strasbourg, and now I was heading into the mountains, at a time when my bag was at its heaviest. What else could I do? I wasn't going to turn back. I took a deep breath and inside I said, "C'est la vie." Again.

It was a beautiful route though, surrounded by pine forests, through mountains, valleys and rivers. I continued generally south-east and went down into a valley, past a massive canal-lift called the 'plan incline de Saint-Loise-Arzviller,' which was pretty awesome as far as human-built stuff goes. I stole an ice cream from their shop and felt pretty bad about it for a while–I didn't need it at all–My greed demon was still 'puppeting' me!

The road took me back up to the top of the peaks again, and at Haselbourg, I stopped for shelter from sudden rain in a little bus stop. When the sun came back, I proceeded to strip-off down to my underwear and dry my clothing on the rails. I really enjoyed the feeling of being totally blasé, in a situation where people thought I was totally nuts. I needed to dry my clothes and what else could I do? It was that simple. I had gotten to a point where I totally did not care a jot what anyone else thought of me, and it felt amazing. I had the power to do anything I wanted to now, I felt like no one could stop me. Luckily, all I wanted to do was walk a lot! So there I was, in a little village bus stop, catching the sun in my boxers with my clothes strewn on the railings. Total

'bumness'! Haselbourg itself was a brilliant little 'hidden gem' of a village, right up on the peak of a rise–all medieval and awesome. Well worth a visit.

The dampness in my boots had meant that a blister formed on my left little toe, I plastered it up after lancing it and wished I had another pair of socks to wear, the only pair I had left after the mud incident being sodden and cold. I made a face as I slowly pulled them on–yuck! There is pretty much nothing worse when walking long distance, than wet feet. The day had turned overcast and rain looked certain, but at least it was cool. Even though the mountain route was really hard, I loved it. The air up there tasted genuinely better, the rains were cool and refreshing and I wouldn't have got such spectacular views anywhere else after all. I took a footpath through the woodland and I almost cried it was so beautiful–the pines glistened after the recent rains, and the floor of this wonderful forest was lathered with soft mosses of deepest, verdant green. I felt so peaceful, it was as if my soul were expanding and floating away, like a balloon filled with happiness. This is where I belong, I thought, not cooped up in a box in a concrete warren. Freedom. Life. I continued right the way out of the Lorraine region into what I was sure was Germany. It was not, although many people around here spoke

German and signs and notices were written in German, it was in fact, the Alsace region of France. What the hell? Where did that extra region come from and why hadn't I seen it before? Germany had escaped my grasp.

At Steiganbach, I raided people's cherry trees in their front gardens as I passed. I felt it a travesty that the ripe, juicy fruits were going to waste, and so I would hasten to a tree and take as much as I could carry. If I heard a front door begin to open while I was at work, I would mosey on off–no one said a word to me, I think they were too shocked! But I was hungry, so there. The sun came out later on and I sat at a bench–drying my kit again–

while feasting on fat, black cherries. Once rested and ready, I continued on towards Freudeneck in the east.

After a while I got to a junction and Freudeneck was not signed, I used my compass and took the road dead ahead. A half-hour later and It began to turn due east, then north-east and finally, north. I began to worry because north was totally the wrong way, so when I saw a little forest path which seemed to lead easterly . . .

What do I always say? 'stick to the beaten track.' what do I always do? Yea, I don't stick to the beaten track at all–its where the fun happens! So what happened? I ended up having to negotiate a ton of crazy, active bee hives on the path. I kept repeating out loud.

"I'm just minding my business bees, I don't want your honey, please let me be."

After the bees I had to ascend a steep hill covered in long, wet grasses so I got soaked again and finally, I had to descend the other side: A slope so steep that I was forced to slide most of it on my haunches. I was totally lost until I heard a fast-flowing river somewhere at the bottom of the slope, I headed for it, reasoning that it would lead me to flatter ground eventually. I came through the brambles at the bottom of the slope, onto a road which somehow happened to be, the very road I wanted in the first place–the D224 to Freudeneck! I was so fricking lucky I couldn't believe it! I walked along the road with the river to my right, finding lovely wild strawberries all along the bank. It soon became dusk and the road was pretty much mine. I sang as I walked, not worried at all, and then I realised that I should probably be making camp right about now. I noticed then that I immediately began grasping, I wanted a camp with a picnic area as I wanted to sit while I took supper. In noticing this, I was able to take control and turn it around: I told myself 'No! I will not grasp,' and I relaxed. It was strange, as soon as I wasn't grasping for it, I was able to instead, _know_ that it was coming. I knew 100%, that the universe would guide me to a camp site, and I didn't need to grasp for a picnic area because one would be there for sure. Literally 10 seconds later (honestly, this is total truth even though it sounds bogus), I saw a sign that showed a picnic stop 150 meters ahead! I felt like I had learned a massive lesson in being centred, and the universe. I got there, ate and made a fantastic camp in the trees nearby. There was even a fresh water spring.

Swinging later in my hammock I realised–I would get to Germany when I got there, or maybe I wouldn't even get there at all, I wasn't going to worry anymore.

**Day 30**

I had an awesome sleep and awoke with the dawn, feeling great. Back to walking! My left little toe was very sore today, it had been slightly curled under the second toe for years and it was never a problem, but due to walking so long with a big pack on every day, it was now very blister-prone. Walking on it hurt like a bitch! It's funny–there is always a negative in every situation.

_I'm pretty sure that 'perfect' does not exist in our world. Can you make do with the negatives in a given_ _situation? If you can then maybe you are on to a winner!_

I kept following the D224 and eventually, I emerged from the deep forest and hills onto flatter grasslands.

Following the river Mossig, I soon came to Romanwiller–what a beautiful town, and I added it to my 'hidden gems' list. It was really medieval again, clean and friendly.

_Speaking of which, here are my 'hidden gems' of northern France: Rethel, Verdune, Fenetrange, Montdidier,_ _Haselbourg and Romanwiller ._

Just out of town, I stopped at a sawmill where I sat on a pile of logs and took breakfast. Onwards, through Wasselonne, wherein I stopped to doctor my toe which had become almost impossible to walk on by then. I managed to bodge it with two plasters and a used cigarette butt (as a spongy 'cushion'), but I was well aware I needed to make it better asap. On the way out of Wasselonne I found a lovely bike trail parallel to the road, I took that south-wards rather than the main road south-east since I was enjoying the countryside so much. On the way, on the edge of Soultz-les-baines, I found an amazing patisserie/restaurant. It all looked so tasty and I was so hungry, plus their bins were empty so I decided to treat myself. I got a 'mahoosive' lasagne, which I ate on the grass verge outside rather than in the posh dining area, then I had to rest for a while due to being so

stuffed!

_What are we? We consume. If I say to myself:_

_"Everyday I will spoil myself–just once–with some nice food."_

_And then I implement that, it becomes the norm for me, and soon it will no longer be 'spoiling' at all. Then I_ _might say to myself:_

_"Now I will spoil myself by adding a good drink to go with it."_

_After a time, that too will become commonplace, no longer a treat at all and so on and so forth. You see, we_ _seem to never be satisfied. While eating the lasagne in the paragraph above, I tried really hard to concentrate_ _upon **just that act**. Just tasting the lasagne, being aware of my mouth, and teeth, and everything that was_ _involved in eating the lasagne and nothing else. I found it to be impossible for more than a few seconds,_ _involuntary thoughts would continuously interrupt me and dislodge my concentration. There are schools of_ _thought–like Buddhism for example–that suggests 'happiness,' is when we are free from thoughts altogether,_ _but I wonder whether this route is really 'living' at all, or just–becoming a shell. I have wondered many times,_ _whether or not I could ever settle in my life. I wondered if I would yearn for the road again if I settled. I felt so_ _confused. That was desire right there: Desire to know my future, and it made me unhappy because I believed_ _that I needed to know my future, in order that I would make the 'right' decisions in the present._

_But to cut out all desire is to live for what, exactly? Even a baby craves, is the baby wrong to do so? If so,_ _then why is it wrong, when it is simply acting on instinct? At that point of my walk, I wanted to stop the_ _confusion in my mind and I saw only two options:_

_1. Cutting out all thought altogether and possibly becoming dead inside._

_2. Settling on one course of action for my future._

_Only option two seemed plausible, but what choice did I have? I thought to myself then, that perhaps I would_ _simply travel like this forever, the sun was shining, I was eating blackberries, strawberries and cherries wild_ _en-route–I was happy. Perhaps it was more about appreciation than enlightenment, since enlightenment_ _seemed so misguided and lonely. It also seemed to me that it meant, not using the natural gifts that we have_ _been given: A conciousness, and a body and mind that feels things, both physical and mental. I tried to focus on_ _being more appreciative for now._

The towns in that area all had a really cool medieval feel to them, and getting food and water was easy which made me happy. My toe however, was not making me happy, and I had to stop every 10 minutes or so because of it. In the end I came across a big Intersport shop and I went in. I was told upon entry, that I had to wear a top and shoes and then I was followed by security constantly, but I found and purchased some fantastic cushioned insoles, a new pair of socks, a smaller and thinner sleeping bag and a stupid little neon-yellow vest. I was well pleased. I ditched my older, warmer sleeping bag in a bin, put on the socks, put in the insoles and continued, sporting my brand new, ridiculous, neon-yellow, wife-beater vest. I was perplexed to discover that I was still in France. By my calculations, I should have been well into Germany by now. I continued on the bike track towards Obernai. After a few hours, rain looked likely and hunger set in, my feet were also tired–it was time to stop. Luckily, just ahead was a forested area, but it was though a vineyard. I realised–as I was about to ninja it on through–that my neon vest meant I stood out like a beacon against the greens! I took it off and carried on. I got to the wooded area and made camp in the nick of time, rain set in and I prepared for bed. Lots of mosquitoes were there to greet me, how sweet. . .

**Day 31**

I was especially pleased with my new sleeping bag, it was just right for this hot climate, as well as making my pack lighter–Woop! It rained a lot during the night and was still raining by morning, but it cleared up after about half an hour. I continued through the many vineyards of this region. My foot had healed up and felt much better, in fact, with my new socks and insole, it felt positively awesome! Five minutes into walking, and the rain began again. It was very heavy and I was now on a bike track with no shelter around. I couldn't head back

to camp as it meant going backwards, so I jogged on through the deluge. I got to a bus shelter and waited for a while until it calmed down. When it was only spitting, I ventured out and continued, only to have it piss down again another five minutes into walking! I jogged on again, and this time found a town to stop in. _I think it was_ _rosenwiller but I'm not sure now._ I sat in a little cafe with a tea and a pastry until the rains stopped again, and I dried off a bit. Back on the road a little later, I came across an abandoned building covered in amazing graffiti, which I _had_ to enter.

_I have a particular 'thing' for abandoned buildings_. _I absolutely love to explore them whether alone or with_ _friends. I have done so ever since the days I taught Parkour, which started with an advert: After I returned_ _from New Zealand, having broken my own heart ditching my first love, something inside me knew that I needed_ _to find something to put all my energy into, in order to keep my mind off the despair that was there. Looking_ _back now, I can see that I was actually hiding from it, as I wasn't yet ready to face what I had done. Anyway, I_ _had always loved to climb and to do jumps and gymnastics, but never took it any further than messing about._

_Then I saw an advert on TV where a guy jumped and tumbled across rooftops in order to get home. I was_ _blown away, I wanted to do it and I wanted to do it all day, everyday. I started to practice with my brother on_ _the beach, which worked out great as it meant we could fall, and not damage ourselves too much. There was_ _very little in the way of instructional material then, so we just used to 'drill' the same things for ages until_ _another idea hit us. Eventually we started to get attention. Once we had a four-man squad and we were_ _training almost every day on the beach, we became a team: The Urban Shadows. Four became 10 and in the_ _years that followed, 10 became thirty and we became an official group, entertaining at shows etc. As well as_ _the official side, there was a side in which we loved to be stealthy and explore, and this is where my love for_ _exploring abandoned things began. It's known as 'urban exploration' and it's amazing. It's only about the_ _exploration, we would never cause any damage or take anything from the places at all, except for photographs._

_I found something incredible in sneaking into, and around these random places. Some were covered in dust,_ _others graffiti, some occupied by druggies, others by security guards, some were huge, some were small, but all_ _held the allure of the unknown for me, and rare is the time I can go past without taking a peek . . ._

It was pretty small, perhaps an old workshop and warehouse building, but there was a lot of great graffiti.

Luckily the roof was still intact, because it started to pelt it down again, I chilled there for a while until it died down. I found a can of silver paint with a touch left and I sprayed onto my neon vest, attempting to make it less garish. It didn't make much difference. I had been constantly thinking about my understanding of 'grasping,'

ever since the lasagne yesterday. I could see that I was still grasping a lot–mainly for food–which I felt, pretty much drove my existence, cookies for example: I was given a pack of two big cookies yesterday and every moment my thoughts were not occupied, they would invariably turn to, 'when shall I eat them cookies?' 'Man them cookies are gunna taste so good.' etc. etc. If not the cookies, then I would be thinking about other food, as I had during the rest of this journey so far. But the reality is: food serves a purpose, in that it gives me the energy and nutrients to live, but flavour is a temporary pleasure, that always leaves me wanting more. For example: I ate all the cookies, there and then in the abandoned workshop. Great. I was happy in the two minutes it took to eat them, but once they were gone, that happiness of 'consumption' was also gone, I was just left with a 'lack of cookies.' What next then?

_I was beginning to see, that consumption could never make me happy long-term._ I then began to think of doing the opposite: giving everything away! But I saw that the same thing applies there–it was the thought of 'being kind' by giving, or the gratitude I would be given in return, that seemed to motivate me, rather than simply giving, and having absolutely no thought about anything else. Once again, that feeling goes very quickly, as I have discovered _(I'm sure you also are familiar with this feeling: If you have a surprise for someone, often the_ _anticipation of giving is huge, but the reality doesn't last as long at all. You give the gift, its amazing and_ _everyone is happy, but normality returns very quickly–the act of giving is forgotten leaving a hollow taste_ _sometimes)._ I saw a pattern as follows:

_**Future – Present - Past**_

Anticipation – Consume – Absence

Desire/Imagination – Satisfaction* - Memory

'Grasping' – Experience - Regret

(Time moves from left to right with an event or an item.)

* _I still am not sure if we ever truly are_ . . .

I could see that it was a sick cycle, in which one can never truly be happy, and where the desire for things could easily take over our life. I could already feel it trying: Rather than being absorbed in the moment and enjoying each step–the adventure, the sights, the sounds and smells etc. I had been thinking about two cookies.

I was well aware however, that it was at least partly necessary to think about food, after all–we need to eat to live. It seemed to me that another very fine balance needed to be achieved, between desire and need. Smoking for example–the thought of which always precedes the action with me, and the thought is always better than the act. I began to formulate a conclusion then, I saw that it would be impossible for me to totally cut-out grasping, as it is linked to what I need to stay alive, but I realised that I could cut out desire and greed. I could be satisfied–more than that: I could be thankful. I could appreciate every moment, whilst also being receptive. to when my body or mind _needed_ something. I began thinking that I needed to do another 'vision quest.'

_I feel that it all come down to the fact that we are alive, and I believe that we have chosen to be so. I feel that I_ _can say this with a sense of certainty, because I have been somewhere close to, or at least 'on the way to,' non-existence.' I have had two experiences in my lifetime so far, in which I believe I have felt the infinity of the_ _metaphysical. Once–just for a moment, the other–close enough to know it, but not quite be there. It felt–in that_ _place that is not a place–that I knew all, and saw all, and was all. In knowing all, I knew that I did not need to_ _know anything, to know all was therefore, to be pointless. All times and all moments were available to me,_ _within in any moment I chose, and this meant that nothing was 'real' or at least–tangible. It was total peace for_ _eternity and blissful, but what is bliss if it is eternal? What is anything, if we cannot juxtapose it with an_ _experience of something else? A simple example is light: if there is no darkness, then you cannot understand,_ _and truly experience light. There is no 'thing,' without a lack of 'that thing.' So I saw that, in order to mean_ _anything at all, eternal and perfect peace must be juxtaposed with it's opposite–a fleeting, imperfect chaos . . ._

_life_.

_We each have chosen to leave the 'universe' and become physical. Our energy or 'soul' has does this by_ _entering a physical body, and thus we experience a physical plane. The body is a physical thing but our energy_ _is not, and it is this that causes the chaos within us. But either way, we must look after our physical body or it_ _dies. We must find food when hungry, water when thirsty and shelter from the elements. But one must not_ _become consumed in consumption because, as shown, it never ends and can never satisfy. As energy, we have_ _lived in the sea of eternity, we are now here, alive and physical. We **are.** It is this that our energy is seeking–_

_experience. Whether good or bad, that is immaterial to our energy. Experience all we can in our brief lives._

_Before we return to infinite peace._

I wondered if that meant I had to seek change, making my life a new experience all the time if possible. I couldn't decide. I left the building feeling light and happy though, I pushed my desires away, and my thoughts became less fretful. I could see that I needed to trust in the universe more, rather than worrying about it all myself. The universe would provide all I need, all I need do is take it. So I did! Just around the corner I found a can of orange fizz, it was full of dead red-ants and at first I spat them out one by one. Then I thought that it was a shame to waste good protein which the universe had offered me, and so I ate them too (it was hard though!). I then walked on to Obernai, which was a big old industrial place which I immediately took a disliking to, and tried to leave. On the outskirts, towards Erstein, I decided to chance a busk at a superstore. Usually at superstores I would get asked to leave very quick due to security guards and cameras, luckily this store had a camera which I could hide from, if I was directly under it! So there I sat for about an hour, smiling and playing tunes to passers by on my harp. It was one of the best busks of my life! Within that hour I made over 60E in cash, as well as two _huge_ bags of food. Not to mention all the happiness and the love I shared with the wonderful people I met there. One woman in particular: Loisa, gave me so much of both. She told me her story and I shared mine, it was a shame, as she told me she felt trapped in France, she believed that she was too old to return to the place of her birth–England, and no matter how much I tried to encourage her, she would not accept that it could still be done. I told her I felt blessed, because things always seem to work out for me, she agreed and than we had a big hug together. As we did so her trolley began rolling down the hill and into the car park, it

almost hit a car but I managed to leg it, and caught it just in time. "See–blessed!" I said, and we both cracked up. Later, I sat in the park and ate, barely able to believe what I had been given. I thanked the universe for every bite and more. It meant I had tons more weight to carry, but I was not at all phased, in fact–I felt good about it: Carrying more meant I would grow stronger!

Once sated and rested I continued. Just as I was miles out into the countryside it began to piss it down again–

hilarious universe! I hastened along the road, perhaps I would find shelter, perhaps not. What I did find was a sweet hat which was kind-of shelter! Thanks! Then, up ahead was a shack in the middle of fields. I headed for it but at the gate I was met by the owner. With much gesticulating and bad French, I managed to convince him to let me stay under the porch of his shack, he was leaving and only asked that I chain the gate when I left–what a brilliant guy, he really saved me! The shack was incredible, all hand done and everything useful. It was built on a tiny spit of land, sandwiched between two crop fields. It had a veg patch and a tree house, a water collection system, bee hives, an outdoor wood stove and more. It was epic! I sat on a bench under the eaves and looked out onto the mountains, and the blue skies beyond the rain. I felt like a red-neck in my papa's place. So fuckin kewl! The rain stopped after a while and I left, but not before writing 'merci,' in pine cones on the bench for him. I walked like crazy for the rest of the day, reaching Erstein and the Rhine canal just before dark. There I made camp next to the water as soft rain began to fall. There were tons of mozzies but it was all good. I would surely make it onto German soil tomorrow!?!

**Ju**

**ly 14 th -Ju**

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**ly 22 nd**

**2016. G**

****

**ermany.**

**Day 32**

Another good sleep, I woke up a little cold though, but I was sure I had made a good buy as the new sleeping bag would be perfect for the summer. The day had an overcast start, so I packed camp and hit the road. My little toe was still blistered, but it wasn't as painful as yesterday. After a couple of hours walking, I made it to the river Rhine wohooooo! I had finally made it into Germany and I was very pleased. I said goodbye to France as I crossed the bridge, and did a little victory jig as I passed the sign that told me–I was now in Germany. That was a big chunk of the journey done and It filled me with confidence, France was the biggest leg of the whole quest. Looking back on France, I really enjoyed it, particularly the Alsace region, with its wonderful little medieval villages, full of friendly faces and charm, lots of gorgeous hills and almost-mountains, vineyards, pine forests and waterways galore. The Calais and Lorraine regions were nice too, but there was little else other than farmland there, and they were both pretty flat. I prepared my smattering of Germanic for the coming weeks ahead and resolute, I pushed onward.

The Rhine was lovely to walk aside, I watched the slow, cargo ships enter the lock gates, up and down the wide waters. They were huge, very long indeed, and they sat really low in the water so that the Rhine almost submerged them–They must have been very difficult to pilot! I felt that they were probably transporting oil, or liquid fuel of some kind. That interested me for ages, then I got to thinking . . . I felt that I had begun to get a good understanding of my mind when I travel. I could see that it took roughly three weeks for the initial joy to wear off, and then I seek purpose. If I don't have purpose, I get board and feel distressed and not long after, I end the trip in some way. This time I had a wonderfully big purpose, that kept me on the path and filled me with energy. I decided that purpose therefore, is a huge must in my life, as I have always worried about my future.

_I still have no idea what I want to do, and even though I knew I should not give a damn about that, I did._

_Purpose kept that worry at bay. I did a list of what I considered were my needs at the time:_

_**Base needs:** Food. Water. Warmth. Shelter. Sleep. _

_**Mental needs:** Happiness. Purpose. Wonder (learning, nature, travel). Social (love, play, friends). _

__ I was full of wonder as I walked through this first part of Germany, there wasn't anything amazing per-say, but it was a new country and everything was subtly different. The colours of the signs, the style of the houses, the dress, the hair cuts and the language, to only mention a few. I found it incredibly interesting how one only crosses a river, and a distance of around 10km, and everything changes. I came to a supermarket along the way and did a quick busk to see what the response there was like. It was great! I made some money, some food and chatted with some lovely people. A little boy gave me some of his sweets which moved my soul. He was only young, and he didn't have many sweets, yet he wanted to share with me–a total stranger, without any thought of a return. I had a make up brush that I had found on the road and although it was a rubbish gift, I wanted to give him something, so I asked if he had a sister. He said that he did and so I gave him the brush. I apologised for not having something for him, but he didn't seem to mind at all, he was just happy!

I got to walking again and in an industrial estate, I found 7E in a cigarette machine–sweet, Ty universe! I then found a quarter bottle of vodka, and a small bag of weed. I thanked the universe and took it all, putting them into a bag which I decided would be an odds and ends bag–full of things for giving to people I met. I was then forced to walk along a motorway: There was simply no other way (except backwards). It wasn't too far though, the signs told me the next exit was 1.5km away, so about 20 minutes, but I was well aware that its illegal and could end up in a fine (like what happened to me while walking through Devon once), so I hurried as much as I could. I walked along the hard shoulder and ahead were a group of workmen, weed killing. I groaned as I imagined them making me turn back and then being totally screwed, not knowing where to go and loosing time and energy in the process. I needn't have worried however because one thing saved me: My neon-yellow, wife-beater vest! From a distance, they must have thought I was a workman too and they didn't notice my bag until it was too late, I had already nodded, said 'hallo,' and moved quickly onwards. Phew!

I arrived at the big town of Lars. I decided quickly, that it was a piece of shit, as big towns often are. This one

was full of 24 hour casinos advertising slot machines with big payouts, inside permanently darkened chambers.

Very strange. I did manage to get on the internet there though, which was good. After I came back into the light from the internet lounge, I felt totally disorientated and surreal–The combination of unnatural darkness and staring at a screen, had made me forget where I was and what I was doing. It felt so weird and I vowed to do less staring at screens in my life. _I had already given up TV for years and that wasn't a problem, but computers_ _still had a hold on me and I needed to get free of it._ Suddenly, it absolutely pissed down and I took shelter in the doorway of a block of flats. It only lasted a few minutes though, so I continued onwards in no time.

After five more days of not being able to pass stool, my bowels decided they wanted to expunge everything right now, in the middle of a big town. I was desperate–It wasn't going to wait for me, so I ducked into bushes by the road side and answered the call of nature, in central Lars . . . sorry! Once out of Lars, I headed into the hills to the east, and it was heaven. So peaceful and quiet, clean and fresh and verdant. I was so happy to be out of the city and in nature again. _I can't for the life of me fathom why others feel living in a big, noisy, crowded,_ _dirty, smelly and unfriendly city is better than being in the countryside. 5km from Lars and the country is_ _breathtaking. Get out there!!!_ On a slope opposite an idyllic countryside view, I set my camp under some massive fir trees. The sun still shone though it was late into the afternoon, the road was hidden behind me and I could hear hunting birds in the skies. I sat on the slope in utter contentment as a stream burbled contently in the valley just below, and the light from the sun warmed my cheek. "Thank you for my life." I whispered, as I smiled.

**Day 33**

I woke up due to being very cold, somewhere just before dawn. I was angry with myself–I totally should have kept the old sleeping bag! Still, lesson well learned: When buying a sleeping bag, the most important factor above and beyond all else–is warmth. In how low of a temperature, will the bag keep you comfortable? Screw how much it weighs–you can get stronger by carrying it. Screw its size–take out some crap you don't need or find a way to stuff-it somewhere. If it's a hot night, you can always get out of your bag and use it for a mattress, if its too cold, then you're pretty much fucked. I was so annoyed at myself, as it was going to cost me a big chunk of the little money I had, but I had no choice: I couldn't risk being cold at night. I decided that if the universe threw me another store along my way, I would purchase a warmer bag, and maybe some bed socks!

Speaking of the universe, I had now begun to see, that it was all about trust. I wanted to trust in the universe entirely. I already believed in it, but I knew I had a long way to go before I _truly_ let go, and gave everything.

_Everything that happens, happens for a reason, and that reason is either that it leads to the next moment_ _(which could be good or it could be bad), or that it teaches you a lesson. Be open. Be honest. Be yourself. Let_ _the universe flow, and you will flow with it. Be free._

It was a cold morning up in the hills of south-west Germany. It was only going to get colder as I approached the Alps, and that reminded me–I wanted to take part in the 'Rainbow Tribe' gathering, which was scheduled for very soon, somewhere in the Alps. But whilst on the computer yesterday, I saw a post in which they said that it may not happen due to–not having scouted a site. I wanted to tell them, that I could scout for them since I was on my way, and so I told myself, that if the universe wills it, and I find a way to contact them, then I will tell them so. I took the 415 road into the forested mountains of that beautiful area. I passed through Reichenbach and Schonberg, then Biberach. Such lovely little towns there, I felt I could really do with a map though, as I was going purely on compass direction, and steep hills–all covered in forest–make free-walking tough. That place blew me away though! It was incredible, and I had stumbled upon it all, since I had decided to trust in the universe. . .

I had come earlier, to a crossroads just outside of Biberach. I could either take the beaten path, heading back the way I had come for a while and then join the main road I had seen. Or I could take a chance, and hope I was still heading towards Oberentersbach, after the signs had thoroughly confused me. I reasoned that the universe had guided me this far, and so I should trust it, even though I was worried that I was going the wrong way, deep into the forested mountains in the middle of nowhere. With my heart in my mouth I continued onwards, putting my trust into the universe. The road soon became a cycle path and it was a joy to follow, the sun shone, butterflies flitted and birds sang about me. The hills were a green so vibrant and full of life, the air was pure and refreshing. The track did indeed take me to Oberentersbach, and from there I took walking paths into the hills.

It was those tracks that led me to the place which captivated me so as I mentioned.

It was a forest of thick, ancient-looking trees of some kind. Maybe beach? They spread a broad roof of light-green, which the sun penetrated in tiny patches here and there. Where the suns light touched the ground, it sparkled, as the earth was covered in the thickest, most luxuriant carpet of mosses that I had ever seen. It was like walking on sponge. Dark-green mosses, light-green mosses, some star-shaped fronds, others tiny and straight. Fungi everywhere. It smelt so full of life, I wanted to stay and live there! There were lots of little shelters built by people who had visited, just for fun I guessed. Some were still relatively intact–they must have come in the summer, but now it was only me, and the stillness. I stood for a long time and breathed in the beauty and tranquillity of the place, thankful for such a wonderful gift.

I continued along the forest footpath, finding wild raspberries along the way. The path was very well looked after and there were benches and signposts aplenty. Definitely a walkers paradise! My compass showed that I was now heading east, south-east. I could hear a road somewhere to the south so I couldn't get too lost. They sure know how to build and look after their houses up there! I saw the most stunning dwellings, all carved wood and hand done by the looks of them. Each one individual. They fitted the landscape very well. It seemed that the people love the land up there, which I respect. This was a favourite area of the journey for me, in fact, of the world (that I had visited so far). After an epic walk, in which I got totally lost and just trusted the universe, I found myself atop the highest peak around. I could see for miles in every direction, there were mountains in the distance which I thought may have been the Alps ( _every hill I saw I thought was the Alps_ _then_ ). It was just me and nature, so I celebrated with a fag, bread and chocolate. It was so still and I was en-wrapped in the peace. I felt like I had _joined_ the hills, I had climbed them but not conquered them, I had become a brother to them. I watched the fat bumble-bees lumber into the foxglove flowers and all was stillness.

I saw a path far in the distance shaded by pine trees . . .

After I was done at the peak I found that path and I followed it, then I decided to forge my own path as usual. I tried to go south-easterly and found that it was peak after forested peak, very hard going. In the end, I took a very steep descent through the forest's moss and leaf litter. It was manageable at first, but then it got so steep that I had to crouch and literally 'surf' my way down it. It was great fun, but I was one battered and knackered mess when I made it to the bottom. At a couple of points I lost control entirely and hit a few rocks, but I was intact. I had torn a big hole in my day bag though, and my clothes were filthy! At the bottom was a road leading to several small houses in one direction and the unknown in another. I couldn't continue south-east since it was inaccessible due to being fenced, farmed and then steeply ascending. I rested for a while and cleaned myself up.

I had taken a nasty cut to the forehead which I hadn't noticed, but I reckoned It probably made me look more rugged lol! I then followed the road southwards somewhere.

Signs pointed to Fischerbach and the road soon joined another, signed to Hausach. By the time I arrived in Hausach village it was pretty late, the day had begun to darken into night so I looked for camp. I saw lots of forested areas just behind town and so I reasoned camp would be easy to find later on. With this in mind I set my sites on eating out tonight in celebration. I sat outside of a bar, and had sausage and potato salad with a beer! I ordered a half, but I guess my German was not up to much cos the dude came back with a mega-big

'handle' of it. Ah well, I pretty much _had to_ since I was now in Germany! That was my first hot meal since the pizza in Rethel and I felt I had earned it. The food was awesome and filled me right up. The beer was great too, but got me very tipsy as I'm not a big drinker. I then tottered into the forest where it took me a bloody age to find a camp site, and then another age to set it up since I was so messy! Damn beer!

**Day 34**

It was a cold night, very cold. In fact, it was as cold as it was in the UK when I first left, only now–I didn't have a sleeping bag that could keep me warm in it. Damn why did I throw it out! I shivered in my hammock and tried to make up for lost sleep, until the morning clouds had shifted and the sun came from behind the hills.

I happened upon a plant today which I had been keeping an eye out for, for a long time: wood sorrel. It is a small green plant that looks like a large form of clover, but has heart-shaped leaves. It tends to grow in mossy, wooded areas and tastes just like apple skin. I thought that I had found some before in the UK, but until I came across it today and tasted it, I realised that I hadn't. The taste is totally unmistakable, I ate handfuls of the stuff!

Survival greens woop! I walked to Schiltach, passing through Wolfach on my way.

At Schiltach I got maps from the tourist centre and found that I was on track, good to know. I stopped at a small river for lunch and to wet my feet–freezing water! Germans definitely know meat: I got a chicken burger

from a butchers that was pre-cooked, and it was incredible. After I had eaten and rested, I continued south-east to Schramberg which was a dive, but I did see a sports shop and so I went in. It was a little independent place and the owners were really nice. I ended up biting the bullet, spending 400E (using my emergency cash card) on a new sleeping bag and rucksack. I reasoned that these things are vital to my well-being now: I was freezing at night, and my bag had been pulling at my shoulders and neck, causing me problems since day one. The new bag was a huge improvement, there was no longer any strain on my neck or shoulders at all, but I was so annoyed with myself, that I had spent money on another new sleeping bag, when I could have just kept my old one. Ah well. I decided to head for Rottweil, rather than take the big roads, I chose to make my own, more exciting route . . .

That route turned out to be a two hour hike up an almost-mountain. It was gorgeous though, and at the top, in a bus shelter bin, I found six tin-foil-wrapped cakes, yum TY! I then walked into the village of Hardt, where I met a bunch of people having a few beers in a little car park. They said hi and I stopped to chat with them for a while. Once they found out what I was doing, they furnished me with a beer and many slaps on the back as I told them more. I then shared the cakes that I had found with them, and the sun began to go down as we chatted and laughed. Eventually I had to go, in order that I could find and make camp before it was too dark. After saying our goodbyes and having been given about four different suggestions for my route, I headed off (a little tipsy again) to find camp. I was lucky, as I soon came across a pine forest which straddled the road just out of town. It was easterly facing so I set up, imagining a glorious sunrise. The forest was absolutely riddled with mosquitoes however, and they were totally kamikaze–I had to make camp and get into the hammock quick, as they were everywhere and extremely annoying!

**Day 35**

Thank you universe, for a good nights sleep! The sleeping bag was awesome, I was warm and cosy. 'You cant put a price on good sleep,' a friend of mine always said, it was true. I got up and watched the sun rise, which was a fantastic start to the day. I travelled eastwards, down the hill towards the rising sun and the town of Rottweil. My new bag was awesome, but there was a slight problem with that: Since it put so little strain upon me compared to the old one, I didn't ache as much–that meant I didn't need to stop so often. Instead of doing around 2km and then resting, I was now doing around six before I needed to rest! I felt I should probably keep that in mind and rest more often, but that was soon forgotten! I followed a route marked with a blue diamond symbol, lost it a couple of times, but managed to pick it up again all the way into Rottweil for noon.

I was mega hungry when I arrived, so I stopped in an Indian take-away place I saw. There I met a wonderfully energetic and happy woman, who cooked me buttered chicken, while I dried some cigarettes I had found, outside in the sun. She told me she loved to cook and gave me a coke on the house. After eating, I gave her a pack of Tic Taks which I didn't want. She exclaimed, "Ah, the universe looks after me!" Then she produced an identical, but empty pack of Tic Taks from her desk, and told me she had been waiting for the universe to refill them! I had not met anyone yet, who referred to things like that as 'the universe' like I did. And she believed it in the same way as I! We laughed together and I told her how I had been given the tictaks while busking, and decided to keep them to give away since I don''t like them. We marvelled at how I had stashed them for days, not giving them away, when I could have done numerous times, then–for some reason–giving them now to her, she being the perfect person to receive them. _When I look at examples like this, I definitely see the hand of the_ _universe, it has a wonderfully sharp sense of humour!_

I was very pleasantly surprised to find that Rottweil was a really nice place. I was prepared for the usual: 'big town bullshit' that I often see, but this town was something much better. It had a lovely little pedestrianised centre, flanked with–mightily tall–old buildings, with massive, hand-painted scenes on the sides. The outskirts were trashier, but it was clearly a well planned and balanced town–recommended! I made myself stop and rest twice at rivers I came across en-route. I decided I wanted to make camp next to the last river I came to, and had to cross it by throwing rocks in to make a bridge. Then I had to whack my way through stinging nettles almost as big as me, until I made it through to a little clearing. It was worth the sweat though, as it meant my camp was made way out of sight, enabling me to make the first fire of the journey.

**Day 36**

Another good night's rest. It was a cold morning again and I was so thankful to have the new sleeping bag, I

told the universe so. The day started out lovely and sunny, so I packed camp, crossed the river using the stepping stones, and continued on the track south-easterly. I soon passed though Spaichingen and took the path towards Tuttlingen. I stopped at almost every bin, and busked at every market that crossed my path. As I did so, my bags got heavier, and more laden with food. It was hot so I stripped down to just my shorts and let the sun shine on me. I managed to enforce a much better regime of breaks and rests, stopping every 4km which made a massive difference to my day and my body. I felt a lot more relaxed and I was much less tired than yesterday, I was also pleased with myself for sticking to a decision I had made, for once! The landscape there was gorgeous, less hilly than before, but sporting a very healthy green grass, long, lush swathes of forests, and wonderfully sweet air–even the towns were really nice!

On one busk, a guy called Peter bought me coffee and a pretzel, and bade me sit with him. We chatted in halting German about life and travel and things, and relaxed. My foot had gotten much better now, it still got sore at the end of the day or if I didn't take a break, but I had learned to interpret the signals it was giving me, and to heed them: if it stung or tingled–I stopped! I looked back upon yesterday, and I saw that I had been

'grasping' a little again, It was a good day but due to that 'grasping,' I hadn't enjoyed it as much as I could have.

So today I made a concious effort to 'mosey' a lot, letting everything just happen and come to me, which was resulting in a shit-load of stuff coming my was it seemed! It was so hot that I had to roll my shorts up, in order to get just a little more air-on-skin, I got some funny looks from then on . . .

I walked on and on and arrived in Tuttlingen. Another big town with a huge and beautiful park. I walked through, alongside a wide river full of fish, and at a stone table, I met a couple of grizzled old tramps. They looked like they had a few stories to share–in their battered old hats and long matted beards–so I went over. I introduced myself and clapped hands with the more friendly of the two. We chatted and he told me that he had been on the road for 12 years, and Germany was his favourite place. His pack was huge and I asked him why it was so big. He told me it was due to it housing all the stuff for his dog, as well as for him. His dog however, was dead, having died of old age recently. He said he still carried the stuff around because he couldn't bear to part with his friends stuff–he really missed his dog. Before I left, I asked him if he could give me some advice from his 12 years of tramping experience–something to help me on my journey. He said:

"I wish you good luck."

Either he didn't understand what I meant, or he was being a funny git! Or maybe it was more than that? Either way, we clapped hands again and I hit the road. The blister on my left foot was now healed, but the ligament or tendon or something had busted on it instead, and it hurt like hell, just like the first week again where I had to hobble for days. Great. I tried to head out of town on a bike route, but I lost it cos the signs made no sense at all.

I started to panic as I usually did, asking passers by for directions and getting conflicting responses, going up and down the same road three times. I needed to find the bike route again because the only other way, in the direction I wanted to go in was blocked by a motorway, and I wasn't prepared to walk any more of those. It was beginning to darken, my foot was killing me and the panic began to engulf me. Then I just, let go. I realised that there was nothing I could do. I was in the situation that I was in, and panicking was not going to help. I put my trust in the universe completely, and I went with a random path. I followed it all over the place but it quickly led me to the bike track that I was looking for–thank you universe! Once safely on the track, I decided to rest and eat before continuing. The track was forested on one side and on the other side were fields, so I knew that camping wouldn't be an issue. My feet however, were. I couldn't walk another step, it was like they were ripping apart–Utter agony. I made camp quickly and massaged my feet before bed in the hope of restoring them asap.

**Day 37**

I woke up early–with the dawn, but I just couldn't bring myself to get out of bed. I lay there, hanging in my hammock for a while. I kept on berating myself for the unnecessary sleeping-bag purchase, and I even started knocking myself for the new bag too: I decided that even though it was way more comfortable, and didn't pull my neck or shoulder, it was still an unnecessary purchase, since the old one simply required me to rest more often. Also, since now I didn't rest so often, I had damaged my feet again through over-walking! I was making myself madder and madder. I then railed at the sleeping bag for making me sweat at night (it's made of polyester and such), then I moaned at it for being a large and not a medium. I kept lamenting that I couldn't go back in time, stopping my initial sleeping bag purchase, thereby keeping my old one. Then I wouldn't have

bought the bag _either,_ and I would have saved 400E. It was very hard for me to come to terms with, I absolutely hate wasting things and I felt like I had wasted a ton of cash. I then came to my senses a little more, and soberly saw that I had in fact, learned two very valuable lessons through it. I had learned to always get the warmest sleeping bag possible (as mentioned earlier), and that if it ain't broke . . . don't fix the damn thing!!! I felt a little better then and so I packed up camp and hit the trail, very slowly and gingerly mind, since my foot was extremely painful still! I had to stop every 20 mins or so and massage my feet, but eventually the pain lessened and I was able to walk as normal. I only hoped they hadn't gone numb in desperation.

It was another very hot day but I was now accustomed to it, I stripped down to my shorts and 'rolled them bad boys up'. I tried to follow the 'R1' bike path, but again it eluded me somehow. I headed vaguely toward Stockach, as I could see that it was the entrance to a massive lake called the Bodensee–it seemed like a great place to check out. I found myself in a beautiful, sunny forest when I felt my stomach calling for lunch. Up ahead was a simple hut, perched upon 20 feet of wooden stilt, so I climbed up and sat there for lunch. It was great to be within, shaded from the sun, incredible view and lunch. I wondered why those huts were dotted about the forests like that. Were they for foresters, to take lunch away from the insects and mozzies at ground level? Were they lookout towers for someone? No idea, but they were great for me!

I felt very positive after lunch. My foot wasn't complaining so much and the day was still gorgeous, I even managed to pick up the bike trail again! Just outside of Stockach I got my first 'real' sight of the Alps. Before, pretty much every high-hill I saw on the horizon, I took to be the start of the Alps. I realised as I looked upon the real Alps then, that there was no way I would ever mistake a mountain range for hills again. Wow–huge, spectacular and totally daunting. The range went on and on in all directions. How was I ever going to make it through them? One step at a time I told myself. By the time I got to Stockach I was thoroughly knackered. I had been stopping very often as I was very worried about my feet, so It was a good knackered however. I reckoned that by tomorrow my feet would be better. I got maps from the tourist office and met a fellow traveller in Stockach. He told me the lake is wonderful and I was very excited to be so near. I hoped that maybe I could get there before dark and make camp.

Stockage centre was pretty cool–very touristic, clean and welcoming but by then I had almost no interest at all for towns, other than as supply depots, and so I left quickly. I soon arrived at the waters of the Bodensee woop!

It was still sunny and warm even though late in the afternoon, so I stopped for a swim. Once more my factor 9000 was washed away, leaving a rainbow film on the waters about me. I ate in the park and then moseyed on a little way to find camp. There was very little to chose from in the area, and I was eventually forced to go through a tunnel under some train tracks, then through someone's garden and olive groves, in order to finally make a stealth camp overlooking the river. The house looked abandoned or maybe it was a summer home, I hoped I was right since camp was very close to it. I made sure to be very quite that night.

**Day 38**

What a gorgeous day! The sun shone, the grass was green and freshly mowed, and I felt awful! I didn't sleep well at all–my hammock came undone in the middle of the night, and it was too damn hot in my sleeping bag. I got so frustrated that I couldn't sleep, I honestly wanted to die. It sounds crazy, but at that point in time, all that mattered to me was sleep. Since I felt the situation was caused by my own 'stupid purchase,' the frustration utterly consumed me–I felt like thrashing wildly, tearing everything around me to shreds, screaming and beating my head against a rock. Just a little crazy maybe?! This was why I still felt very negative when morning finally came. I had very little energy and my left foot hurt a great deal more than It did yesterday, the pain had now travelled up my calf as well. I was a mess. I made sure to get up and active straight away, reasoning that I would therefore be so tired later tonight, that I would sleep like a baby.

I broke camp and continued on the road to Uberlingen, which was a gorgeous little place. I tried a busk at a small store, but my heart just wasn't in it at all and I gave up, instead I tried to check the bins there but even that was too much for me, so I continued trudging along. I was so low that I was ready to give up. I saw myself getting on a bus, getting to an airport, and flying back. I sat forlornly in some shade for a while and I wrote. I imagined what I would do if I really _did_ give up the journey and return to England. I gloomily forecasted, that I would probably go to New Zealand and get a camper van, but it didn't feel like a good thing–it felt like a purposeless cop-out and my thoughts spiralled further down. I asked myself: why did I hate to spend money?

Why was I so bothered by the bag thing? I couldn't answer. I stared at the Alps far in the distance. All I had at

that moment was the desire to see the journey through, but those mountains made me imagine that it would only get harder and harder. I mused that perhaps, I should find some secret, hidden piece of land and live there like a hermit, grow stuff and build up a shelter and survive. But where? I asked myself what sort of person would I be if I gave up? Would I look back and wish I had carried on? I told myself that it was just a bad day, the last month would be for naught if I gave in now. It took all my will to shake it off and keep going, but I carried on. I had to slowly limp along the path, head down, thoughts far away, but I was up and I was moving, and that was all that mattered.

I checked a bin and found a whole rack of pork ribs in bbq sauce which I added to my pack, and continued–I had no idea how I would cook it . . . The next big town was around 15km away and I was pretty certain I wouldn't make that. I began to imagine New Zealand and a camper van. I thought about powering stuff and getting a laptop to play games on. It took me back to when I travelled in a van last. It was with my ex Clare, we went through Europe and after a few months, we both missed our computer games. I asked myself if that was a bad thing? I wondered if computer games were always going to be a desire of mine. What was the life that I wanted? How did I want to live? The backpacking life was proving to be extremely hard, and I definitely favoured living in a camper, or a hut of some kind. But I knew that first, I had to see this through. I began to think more rationally–I was around 60km away from Austria for Gods sake! Then, all I had left was a little of Italy, and I would be next to the sea again. All I had to do, was get through today I reminded myself. Just today.

The day then began to get better. I made a new resolution: eat food from my bag if there was any within and if there was not–then buy it, and indulge just a little. I saw that I had been making this journey overly hard, by trying to get survival or bin food everywhere, rather than just accepting that I need to eat well and sometimes, that costs money. I remembered the pizza in Rethel, how amazing it was and how it had fortified me. I felt better, more determined after that, and I continued to walk.

After a while I needed to stop and rest, there was a bench just up ahead and I gratefully sat for a while. Behind me was a church and there happened to be a big funeral going on within. I couldn't help but watch from the corner of my eye, it was a large and lavish affair with classical music playing and choral singing, it was beautiful actually. A woman went past with her dog, having come from the luxury-hotel across the way, I said hi and we shared a smile. A few minutes later the dog and woman came back the other way. I'm pretty sure she was a 'cougar,' on the prowl for some younger man-meat and I was the meat. She spoke to me in German and asked me if I wanted to come for a swim with her. My mind began reeling–this woman was pretty damn hot too! Yes, she was older than me, but she looked feisty and I hadn't had it in months now! I panicked however, and asked her if the hotel would allow it–since it was very high class and I was a 'Duch reisenden,' (I can't spell it) which means basically–a tramp. I don't think she realised at first, my sack was behind me and everyone there wore swim shorts, thus I blended in pretty well. Once she understood what I was, she seemed to change her mind and promptly walked away with a sniff. Hee hee! Ah well, I was enjoying being celibate anyway!

It was still very, very hot and I had to take a shit twice–wtf were my insides doing?? I began to relax as I walked along, and I focused upon just letting it all flow. Soon my worries felt a little lighter. I found water in Meersburg, which was another lovely little town. I swam there in a little park area, and then sat to rest. I chatted to the couple nearby–Mel and Frank. Frank showed me a few edible plants which I didn't know about, and he then told me that he really wanted to come back one day and go into the Alps. I told him that he totally should, but he then said, he didn't think he would have the strength to do it and he looked away, wistful and sad. I gave him lots of my energy, and told him that he totally could do it, and he _would_ do it, and that it was now his mission! I hope I helped him a little. I carried on along the Bodensee's shore and I spotted a bottle of fruity alcohol, discarded in a car park. I didn't have any desire at all to drink alcohol, but I reasoned that the universe was offering it to me and so I took it. It was really nice, and before long I was a little merry. I then had to stop very abruptly because my butt was literally about to explode! My third turd of the day was then taken, in an indiscreet bush just off the footpath. I then remembered that a day previous, I had eaten rice pudding that tasted a little funny . . . I carried on walking, but my gait was a little different, since I had pretty much just had ass surgery (sorry about all this). I smelt a fire on the beach nearby and saw a guy stoking it. He had a BBQ rack placed upon it and I shouted out to him,

"Gutten essen!" Then I continued on my way. I stopped suddenly. Wait a minute! I remembered that I had the ribs in my bag, and that I needed a fire to cook them. I decided to go back and give them to the guy, since I would almost certainly not be able to make use of them. I went back and explained about the ribs, he and his wife then invited me to stay and share their fire and food. I told them that I had to go make camp, as it was

about to get dark, but they insisted, saying that I could stay at their place–I went with it! screw camp and worrying, screw my fears and being in control (the drink may have helped a little)! I thanked them profusely and stayed.

His name was Gerhard, and his wife was Melanie. Three boys then came in from the water and he introduced me to them: His son and his two friends. We chatted and I practised my German. We ate from the BBQ–my rack of ribs, their sausages, burgers and bread. It was lovely to share hot food with such wonderfully friendly strangers, in such a gorgeous setting. I felt the turmoil of earlier sliding far away from me, all smiles now.

When it came time to leave, they asked if I was coming with them and I said that I couldn't due to my quest. I told them I needed to find a camp and I would be alright. Gerhard said that his place was not far, and that I could come back to this very spot in the morning and continue, so as not to break the journey. I happily agreed and off we all went. The boys rode bikes and I got a lift in Gerhard's cool beach-buggy thing. We soon arrived at the families house and I was brought inside. We drank and chatted some more and I helped their daughter with her English homework. Gerhard put a camp mattress onto the balcony outside and I slept there in my hammock (laid upon it). In the night it rained, so I moved into the study and went back to sleep–no worries!

**Day 39**

In fact, the rain became a storm last night and I realised, that I was incredibly fortunate to be sleeping indoors–

it would have been a wet and soggy one for me otherwise, and I desperately needed a good night's sleep.

Looking back on the events that brought me here: would I have stopped and investigated Gerhard's fire, if I wasn't a little merry due to the alcohol? Would I have gone back if I didn't have the ribs? All those little things which go together to influence our choices. Do we have choice at all? I didn't worry about it at the time. I was too happy! I got up with the dawn again, it was wonderful to see it from atop the balcony. Gerhard and his family soon rose too and we met in the dining room for breakfast. They told me that I should eat well, as I needed fortitude for the journey ahead. I needed no encouragement however, I was learning that I had to eat as much as I could, whenever I could, as I had no idea when or where my next meal might come! We shared

wonderful fresh bread, pretzels, and jams, with strong black coffee which made me go totally schitzo! After we had eaten, Gerhard told me of his own adventures–backpacking in the 80's through China, Tibet and Africa! He showed me the photographs he had taken whilst there and I was blown away! He was pretty much a pioneer, doing the travel thing in places where often, he was a bit of a novelty: being a white, non-Asian guy. I was in awe and inspired. I felt less afraid to visit more exotic locations and throw caution away. After that I emptied my rucksack and repacked it all more efficiently, said farewell and then left their home.

I walked back down the hill to the beach where we had the BBQ, and continued from there. It rained, but not for long, and I followed the walking track along the waterside towards Austria and the Alps. I made it to Freidrichshafen at about noon. It's the bustling but beautiful touristic capital of the Bodensee, and I stopped at a waterfront park for a rest and lunch. My legs were feeling much better, I think the magnesium that Gerhard gave me last night did the trick there. My feet however were not faring so well. My left little toe had come up once more in a blister, I lanced it and treated it with cream and a plaster. Then had a swim and had to apply it all over again! I tried to call my parents from a phone box, it had been a while since the last contact I made and they worry a lot about me. The phone box didn't have its number displayed though. Sorry again mum 'n dad! I then wandered through the port and the pedestrianised area, before leaving the city by the bike track once more.

The countryside after Freirichshafen became marshy and almost swamp-like. Mosquitoes began to take over the skies, literally clouds of them followed me as I walked, taking it in turns to dig at my flesh and sup my sweet nectar. It was awful–seriously! I have never known them to be so voracious and relentless, I tried to fend them off but it was just too much, I was forced to jog (I almost ran but feet wouldn't let me) to the safety of the road where their numbers were less. It was a shame as it meant that I couldn't continue on the waterside path, but there was absolutely no way I was enduring that again. I followed the road and came upon a couple of supermarkets. I decided to try a busk there, since the universe had made it so that I came past them, and within an hour I had made around 20E, so that covered all the plasters and medical supplies I had purchased today.

It was pretty once I had finished the busk, so I began to look for a camp. I was struck by mozzies again as soon as I got out of the town area, perhaps it was a particular day when they go crazy? __ I found a fantastic place to camp, but it was totally inundated with mozzies still. I was under constant attack but I had no choice, so I just grit my teeth and endured the stabs while I set up the hammock. I ate inside the netting of the hammock rather

than outside in the apocalypse, it was cramped and more than a little uncomfortable, but I was safe–ha! They were desperate to get at me and were all over the hammock, buzzing with that horrible high pitch. Thank the universe I got the hammock with the mozzie net! I would like to say I can deal with the mosquitoes, Ed Stafford ( _one of my survival heroes)_ has no problem sleeping butt-naked while mosquitoes have at him, I had some way to go before I could do the same. Perhaps he takes a special mosquito repellent pill before he goes on his adventures? I certainly would–little fuckers!!!

**Ju**

**ly 22 nd**

**-31**

**st**

**2016. A**

****

**ustria**

**Day 40**

Wow! Milestone day :) 40 days on the road woop! I got up to an overcast dawn and my day began. I felt pretty tired. I was forced to get dressed inside the hammock because the mosquitoes were already waiting on the outside of the netting, silently looking in–hungry. Once ready, I packed up camp as swiftly as I could and started walking. I had only my face and hands exposed to them but it was enough–they went totally crazy at the scent of my blood, and I was relentlessly assailed, high-pitched buzzing all around me. After a while, I found myself on a bike track next to the main road, far fewer of the little bastards there, and so I was able to relax and enjoy the day a bit more. All along the side of the track were raspberry and blackberry plants, I ate my fill as well as a couple of apples I swiped from someone's tree–a good breakfast. In the next town: Eriskirch, I stopped at a small bakery/cafe for a cup of tea and a cake to wake me up a bit. I then relaxed with a cigarette for a while.

I really enjoyed that–it was a small pleasure, but it felt like a great start to the day, I had felt like a zombie up until then! I thought that the staff had forgotten to charge me, and casually tried leaving, but they were onto me and waved the bill while calling for me to return. I did the old–'"oh did I not pay you?" routine,' when I handed the cash over. Damn!

I continued along the road toward Lindau, taking the lakeside route rather than the main road. I passed through Wasserburg which struck me as a very rich, touristic village. There was a massive patch of blackberries next to the level crossing, I ate all that I could cram into my stomach and then harvested a bag for later too, then in the same town, I nipped into the back of a pizza place I came across, and went through the bins–jackpot! They must have been doing a pizza & pasta buffet or something earlier, since the bins were full of both, in wide variety.

Once again I ate my fill and took a big bag for later–I was now well and truly provisioned! This was a much needed thing, since eating that dodgy rice pudding a few days back, had left my insides in need of fortifying.

Also, my left calf was still aching and was therefore repairing, and I was soon to enter the Alps, where walking was sure to become doubly the chore! Yes, a good refuelling was a must–thank you universe!

_What was really funny, was that at that time I was actually trying to **lessen** my food load, and thus rely more_ _upon the universe: finding my food when I needed to eat, rather than keep a load of it, which I had to then lug_ _around with me. Pizza and pasta however, I was fine with making an exception for! It also served as proof to_ _my doubtful mind, that It could be done. It is a terrifying thing to let go of one's well being and future, but I was_ _getting there._

I continued, and found a lovely place for a dip in the lake, just outside of Lindau. There I swam, rested and tended to my feet before moving on once more. Going through Lindau, I swiped a jar of pure honey from an honesty table . . . sorry! I felt pretty bad about that, but I was torn since it was also an opportunity, and I felt that honey was a really good thing for me to have. But did I _need_ it? Probably not. And that was stealing, when there was a direct victim too. Bad MossDogg–I concluded. But by the time I had so concluded, I was already long gone. I enjoyed Lindau, it was a lovely little town, much like a 'little Venice.' I took my time passing through so as to soak up it's beauty. Then, all of a sudden–I was in Austria! The first place therein was a boarder town, full of cheap boarder shops called Unterhochsteg. Austrian police had a road block going on where they were checking the oncoming cars at random, I slipped by unnoticed.

I immediately set out to do a busk as I had never travelled Austria before, and I wanted to see how my busking would be received. I sat outside of a Spar supermarket and began. In five minutes I had 5E in my hat and a new friend–a great Austrian lad who taught me hello, and thank you in Austrian (those are the two words I endeavour to learn as soon as I enter a new county, the two words which I believe help a traveller the most–

swear words coming in a close second!), but then I was quickly asked to leave. I checked their bins on the way out though, and to my satisfaction, found them to be filled with all kinds of bread and cake. I took a few choice morsels and _then_ I left, ha! Once again, I just couldn't seem to empty my provision bag–it was beginning to seem like the very resolution to do without them, had made them rebel, and I was finding too much food that I couldn't resist. There is the universe's ironic sense of humour again!

I saw a massive city up ahead, according to my map and the signs it was Bregenz, and it was about an hour's walk away. It was not yet late, and I deemed that I had more than enough time to get there, find a tourist info

place for maps of the Alps, and then get out and find camp before dark. I was wrong of course! The walk to Bregenz was much longer than the damn signs told me, I guess the 'Bregenz 5km' was referring to the very outskirts of the city. It took me roughly two hours, by the time I was in Bregenz proper it was around 5pm. I was knackered and hungry, and I had to find the tourist office fast lest it shut. Bregenz centre was huge and very retail-centred. Big pedestrianised streets ran between massive buildings, while motorways hemmed it all in. but it wasn't overwhelming as it was in so many other big cities, if I enjoyed shopping and hotels and stuff like that, then I think I would have stayed and explored Bregenz a lot more, it seemed like a city with a lot to offer, plus the fact that it is situated at the base of the Alps and the shores of the Bodensee–a very good combination.

I found the tourist office just before closing and got a map of where I was heading. I exited town eastwards and uphill, towards the village of Kennelbach. By the time I finally got out of the urban areas around Bregenz and into suitable camping territory, I had walked around 12 hours and my feet were absolutely killing me. It began to rain too, which made finding camp an all together, awful experience. I became desperate again, and seriously doubted that I was going to find somewhere. Eventually, I made the decision to make a camp very close to a house, on a steep slope–there was little other choice (It had tree cover which was great though). I began to set up camp there and then cars came and parked nearby, a lot of cars. People began to fill up the gardens of the house I was near, and I had to work hard to remain in stealth as I finished camp. There seemed to be some sort of garden party going on. I looked closer–it was a vineyard and winery. People came and went long into the night, some passing within about 10 yards of my camp, but luckily I was not spotted. I fell asleep as a light rain pattered about me and the sounds of music and chatter drifted to my ears. I was looking forward to entering the Alps proper, they looked spectacular up close. Mosquitoes were around, but they were a lot more docile now. Phew!

**Day 41**

I had a good sleep and a lovely lay in–I felt great! I had made friends with the new sleeping bag, having now begun to understand how to use it properly, it was awesome actually! Because it was a large size, it meant that I was able to double it under my butt area, so effectively–I had a mattress, that meant that my butt didn't ache so much in the hammock anymore. Also, because it was so very warm, I only needed to half zip it up to kept me at a cosy temperature, I could then zip it up further if I so needed. I was very happy. My blister had healed up nicely, it was beginning to look like a cycle though–blister forms, blister heals, blister forms elsewhere . . . I decided that I had to do something different and break the cycle, as blisters were a pain ha! I found a small piece of packaging foam and inserted it between the toe that curled under, and it's neighbour. The theory being, that it would stop the friction between them, we shall see. I packed up camp and took the road onwards to Wolfurt, there I found (to my great pleasure), that many walking trails went off into the mountains, I could follow one towards the town of Egg to the south east. I chose a red route, and so began my Alps tour.

The path was incredible, winding up on the side of a gorge through thick, ancient forest. I stopped at a magical little stream where I rested and filled my water bottle with the freshest, most refreshing water I had ever tasted.

The universe was definitely looking after my food and water needs, I had not bought anything in the last three days (except that tea and cake) and yet somehow, I had ended up with more provisions in my bag than ever, so far on this trip! I began to see the universe as very like a God–it seemed that faith in the universe resulted in the universe sending all I needed to survive–cooked sausages on the side of the road, biscuits on a step, brown rolls in a bin, and pear juice on a bench. All those things I had found just so that morning, and now fresh water too!

If I needed proof, then I was sure getting it! After I was rested I continued, I took my time because I was so enchanted, It was heaven to me. The path kept going up and up, getting steeper and steeper, It was one helluva walk but so worth it. _It's funny because everyone knows–I'm sure–that walking in the Alps will be 'majorly hilly'_

_to put it mildly. I was no exception. I knew that I would be walking mountain paths, but truly, it wasn't until I_ _actually walked them, that I understood just how steep they are, or how one can ascend a peak, and then be_ _confronted by about 50 other peaks all around–it never seems to end!_

After making it to the top of my first peak, I gathered my breath and looked about me. More peaks, peaks everywhere. Oh mumma! I continued and descended the other side. I passed a great place for a 'Rainbow tribe gathering,' half way down, on piece of grassland screened by trees and way off track. I decided that if I came across a way to access the internet soon, that I would message them and help to set it up. I then said 'fuck that,'

to the option of a red path up the next peak (Bruggelkopf at 1082m). I had just done Farnacher which was 900+

meters, that was enough 'peakage' for one day! But my only other option was to go _around_ the Bruggelkopf, which added a shit-load of time to my journey _(or so I thought . . . I didn't factor in, that going up meant I was_ _slowed to around an eighth of my normal speed)_ , so I 'wisely' decided to go over it after all, and so began my second ascent of the day . . .

It was very hard going and I had to take breaks often, but it was stunning. I travelled along the thinnest little footpaths that wound through forests, little fields full of wild flower, and paddocks housing grazing Alpine cows. Mountain streams were all around and their cool waters kept me going. I thought I was lost for a bit, I had to enter farm land to continue, and found my way barred by an electric fence. There was no gate, yet the sign had pointed me this way. I jumped the fence and carried on and luckily it was the right track, so strange why it would be blocked like that though? Even though the walking was hard, the blister on my toe was holding up well and had begun to heal over properly. It looked as though little bits of foam were the future of medicine for blisters! There was an amazing shrine with a picnic area part way up, dedicated to St. Francis of Assisi–yup, the one that talked to animals. I stopped there for a while to take lunch and rest. Lots of walkers went past me, good on them!

I made the peak and then descended southwards to Swarzenberg. I passed through quickly and picked up the L200 road, heading more south-east. It began to rain a little, and then the little became a helluva lot, and I was quickly soaked. Up ahead, I saw a big old place across the disused railway line, it looked abandoned and was all on it's own, it would make the perfect shelter from the deluge. The main entrance was locked but there was a back door that was wide open, I hastened inside and out of the rain. I took my bag off, wiped my glasses and looked around. Very, very strange. I found that I was in an antique-looking, milking shed. I couldn't quite work out if it was still in use or not. There was old hay on the floor, cobwebs were on the walls and the tools that hung from them, yet the water to the feed bowls worked, as did the lights in the shed (which I quickly turned off after testing them to remain hidden). I was totally perplexed. The rain outside was showing no signs of abating at all, in fact–it had gotten worse and was now a thunder storm, I was forced to sit tight for a while. I wrote, smoked and stared about me. After a while, I couldn't resist anymore, I had to explore further.

The door at the end of the shed was closed and had no handle, but I was able to pry it open with my fingers.

There was a loud click as it swung on its heavy hinges and there, beyond, was a dark room. I went back to my bag and retrieved my wind-up torch, then entered the dark room. By the light of my torch I found that it was a kind of internal porch, festooned with old tools and farming implements, there was even an ancient pair of fur shoes with wooden soles–covered in web. I then came across the main entrance to the house proper. It was a beautiful old wooden door and like the rest of the place–I was now noticing–it was hand crafted. The door looked in-use though, it was clean and oiled. Something just didn't add up here. There were a couple of shuttered windows and carefully I tried them. Latched. I tried the main door, locked. I searched for a key in the usual places–under door mats, on beams, nothing. I returned to the darkened porch. There was a second level to the porch which I could get to by climbing the far wall. It was still raining hard and so after checking that the coast outside was still clear, I climbed up. The next floor was a high-roofed barn, inside of which was an old tractor, hay bales and other bits and bobs. The tractor and bales looked to be used recently. The barn door was also wide open and led to the rear fields. By now my curiosity was at maximum level, I wanted to see what was in the house and work out what the hell was going on there, it felt so strange. I climbed the beams in the barn in the hope of finding a way into the house but there was none. I returned to the downstairs porch. I decided to try and 'jimmy' a shutter for a peek inside one of the windows, and this I managed with a screwdriver I found. I swung the shutter aside and gazed through the small window.

Inside, it was like a fairytale cottage. It was pristine and laid out as if to receive guests. The ceiling was low and the room was small, giving it a magical, cosy feel, and it was all hand crafted–everything. Someone or some group, had loved this place. There was a fire place and a table and chairs, and there were religious icons on the walls. Upon the table was a pad and pen with something handwritten upon it. I tried to open the window but it wouldn't budge. I closed the shutter and tried the door again. Still no luck. I returned to the milking shed and my bag. I sat there for a while and still It poured outside. It got to late afternoon and I would have to leave sometime soon to find camp, but I really didn't want to. I began to think about camping there, on the floor–It was warm and dry. I waited. In the end I got so board waiting, that I decided to re-explore the second story and its beams. This time I traversed to the other side–above the porch area–and noticed that there was another story, I just needed to climb a pile of farm equipment to get there. I did so, and discovered a loft filled with dusty wood. The loft dropped off on one side and it dropped into the house's second story–I had found a way in!

My heart raced as I decided upon a course of action. I still couldn't work out if it was abandoned or not, but this was too spooky and incredible an opportunity to miss! I dropped down into the house, landing quietly thanks to my parkour training. I was now in a room with a few wardrobes. There were wooden stairs on one side and a wooden door in the middle. The stairs looked too exposed to me, what if there was someone in there?

I put my ear to the door and heard only silence. I began to pry it open with my fingers and peeked through the gap that was forming. I held my breath–it creaked like a bitch with every millimetre it opened. Beyond, I could see bunk beds, all freshly laid out, again as if for guests. I froze–I heard a voice! I could hear a females frantic-sounding voice, as if someone were on the phone. I computed . . . someone calling the police!

I bolted and leapt for the loft, grabbing the lip of its floor and pulling myself up there, I crashed across the pile of wood–I didn't think about anything other than escape as fast as was possible. I crashed down into the farm equipment the other side, dropped from the second story beams into the darkened internal porch, and ran headlong into the milking shed where I gathered my pack. I paused for a second, about to run the gauntlet through the storm. Silence. I waited. Still, not a sound. I carefully put down my pack again and snuck into the porch room. Still complete silence other than the rain. What the hell was going on here? I put my ear to the door of the house itself. Nothing. My mind ran wild. I was sure I had heard a female voice, but there was definitely no one within. I sat down next to my pack in the milking shed and just waited. What else could I do–the storm was still raging outside. Not three minutes later and the external door to the porch began to click, there was a key finding its lock . . . My heart thumped. If this was the police then I had a story ready, I had just been sitting here in refuge from the rain–there was no way they could prove where I had been . . .

The door opened and a blonde woman stepped in. I thought it best to say hello so that I looked innocent. She turned to me and spoke rapidly in Austrian (pretty much German). I understood a little of it–she was asking who I was and why I was there. I responded in broken German,

"Excuse me, the rain. I rest here. Half an hour. I am travelling the Alps. Please."

She digested my words and nodded a bit. She then told me to stay there. That felt bad, it felt like I was awaiting judgement. I waited. She tried the main door of the inner house and when she found that it was locked, she looked to me with a puzzled expression. I clocked–she now couldn't believe that I had gotten into the house, my story was now plausible. She once more told me to stay there and left via the way she came in. I heard voices outside and a car pulled up. Shit _that_ was the cops. Footsteps and then an old man burst in, he saw me and a tirade of Austrian came from his almost frothing mouth, but he was a civilian. I once more tried to explain, and as I was doing so, the girl returned and soothed him a little, saying things like, 'He is travelling,'

and 'English.' after he tried the door and found it satisfactorily locked he turned to me again.

"I'm sorry," I said. "The rain, very bad. I wait here. The barn door was open. It is OK please?"

The old man nodded and half smiled. Then he left–just like that! The girl came back in and I repeated,

"It is OK please for me?"

She said that it was OK. I was safe! I couldn't believe it. She went on to explain, that it was her father's place (that having been her father), and that they rarely use it now. I thanked her profusely and told her I would be gone by morning. She smiled and then left me to it!

Alone once again, my heart calmed down and I breathed wonderful sighs of relief. So the house was definitely empty. Why then, had I heard a voice? How? I couldn't deny that if I had not exited from within the house when I did–or a maximum of two minutes after I did–then the blonde girl would have caught me in the house, and I would have been totally fucked! I saw how stupid it was of me, but also how I couldn't have resisted too. I thought again of the voice, the voice that I couldn't have heard. I realised that that voice had saved me. I believed then, that the universe had sent that voice so that I would bolt and escape in time, there is no other explanation–the voice had come from within the house. No one was in there. There was a storm outside, no one was out there. If it had been the blonde woman's voice, it was a little too early and she would have no doubt heard me crash though both the wood in the loft, and the metal farm equipment, they had both made a terrible racket. I thanked the universe deeply for saving me. Then I laughed at how lucky I was. The rain started to die down and I saw my chance to leave before minds were changed . . .

I hurried out and along the road, two minutes later and the rain pelted down again, but I had already found a silent forest next to the old rail line. I began to panic at first because it was already pretty dark and the rain was coming thick and fast, I slowed down, I told myself that I was here, I couldn't change the situation and panicking wasn't going to help. I calmed and finished camp in no time. My heart still beat as I lay in my bag thinking about the house. I was pretty freaked out by it–what if it had been a spirit? It still saved me. I chuckled–I really am one lucky son of a bitch!

**Day 42**

I slept very well again and I had a lay in–why not!? Getting up with the dawn is good for travelling when the sun is too hot in the day, but there and then I reasoned, I didn't need to worry about it so much. If I needed to sleep–I would sleep, I resolved. I hit the road, directions were easy as all I had to do was follow the 200 road, as it wound its way through the peaks of those fantastic Austrian mountains. The views were absolutely

incredible–gorgeous, verdant green slopes on the mountain sides, ending abruptly in craggy cliffs to empty spaces, way, way up in the clouds. I wouldn't want to go sledging up there that's for sure! The amazing rock formations really made me want to go for a climb, I imagined standing upon the top looking across the world: awesome! I was unable to climb them though, because I had my bag and I couldn't leave it behind.

I found myself approaching the town of Mellau, when on my right, I caught a glimpse through trees of a wonderful, incredibly high waterfall. I made a beeline towards it and soon found a foot path which took me there. I stared up from the base to the cliff top where it fell from–straight down onto a rock plateau in a shimmer of water, like sparks. There were signs on the track which implored visitors not to climb the falls or to enter the water . . . the hell I was going to pass up an incredible experience like that! I began to ascend to the plateau. At the base of the plateau I set my bag down. Rainbows were all around me, forming in the fine spray that the falls created, the sun shone brightly over head. I wanted to stand directly in the main falls, on the plateau, I had to. I climbed up onto the surface of the plateau, standing upon the rock which was slick with cool water, and made my way toward the falling water. No problem,three or four steps more and I would be under the water, in the very centre of the falls. I was acutely aware that the falls would be incredibly powerful due to its long drop, and that the plateau was very slippery indeed. I was also acutely aware of the drop on three sides of the plateau, but I had to do it–I would always regret it if I didn't. The sound of crashing water engulfed me as I stepped out onto the rock, staying low and balanced. Before I knew it, there I was, in the epicentre, under a torrent of icy-cold mountain water. I slowly stood up straight, for as long as I dared (about three seconds), it was incredible! I retreated back to the safety of the rock wall, my heart was going crazy, what a rush–my shower for the day! I returned to my bag and ate while I dried off in the sun. with a smile on my face, I took the path back to the 200 and continued.

Mellau was a really nice little Alpine-valley town, quite touristy but also traditional and clean. There were bikes everywhere, I had been noticing that they were definitely _the_ way to travel round here! The bike paths went everywhere and were very well looked after and signposted, I saw many people on bikes with tents and things upon them too. Perhaps I will return someday with two wheels I mused? I carried on and came to Au, which had the most amazing surroundings–even for an Alpine village it was something extraordinary, which is saying a lot! The peaks around Au were some of the most beautiful that I had seen thus far. I was really hungry and I was out of provisions, so I hunted Au for bins or shops to buy from but no luck–It must have been a Sunday. I resorted to heading for a restaurant to eat, but when I looked at the prices I just couldn't justify it, it was way too much! In the end I was forced to eat from the emergency muesli supply in my pack. A biker woman I met on the path gave me some bad news–she said that the next three days were forecast to be bad storms. It was blazing sunshine now, but I felt a tingle in my bones and knew that it was indeed likely.

_It's very odd to say, but after travelling for so long now, I can truly say that more often than not–I can feel_ _rain coming. Just as I said, it feels like a far-away tingle in my bones and I just know. The feeling isn't always_ _right, but it has been right enough times that I heed it when I feel it now. I believe that intuition is very, very_ _real and it's more powerful, and there's more to it than we know . . . Trust it, is my advice. The more I have_ _trusted my intuition, the more I have seen that it is often right, and the less I believe in 'coincidences.'_

I continued on through Schoppernau, where I found crackers and wild berries, I thanked the universe

profusely, that food really helped! I continued, still on the 200. The scenery couldn't have gotten any better, but it did! I followed close by to a gorgeous river where people were rafting, the sky began to darken very quickly,

thunder peeled out as lightning lit the clouds in the sky on fire. It was absolutely incredible, but I had no time to take it in–I was getting soaked! Luckily I was in a forested area so I set my tarp up asap where I was. Once the tarp was up, I was safe and I decided to simply camp there where I was. No one would be out in that weather after all, so there was no need for stealth. I watched the storm for a while until I was ready to sleep.

**Day 43**

The rain fell as I drifted into sleep and It was still falling as I awoke, but my tarp stayed true and my gear only got a little damp. Considering how crazy the rain was, I was pleased, but I needed to dry it asap if possible. I had a look at my feet–everything seemed good! I packed up camp and continued. It was an overcast morning but it didn't detract from the scenery one bit! I began musing at how like the computer game 'Skyrim' it was up there! I kept expecting to 'level up,' or to be confronted by a bear or pack of wolves!

_Skyrim was a game that I had played a lot of, while staying in my last flat. It's a roleplay game and I got very_ _into it, since I needed some form of escape. I got far too into it in the end, it began to pretty much take over my_ _existence–I was always thinking of it or playing it. I believe that computer games are so popular today because_ _they offer an escape from the mundane, controlling world that modern society creates. I believe also, that they_ _are dangerous, as they can immerse the user in a false reality that begins to take them away from what is real. I_ _found it myself–I would play all day, skipping meals, skipping sleep, skipping socialising. And what did I have_ _to show for it at the end? A level 70 character with lots of 'kewl shit,' in a reality that only exists within my_ _bedroom. But I was hooked. As I said–it allowed me to escape. What I should have realised, was that 'I **wanted** _

_to escape.' if someone wants to escape, then they are not happy with their current reality. Looking back, I can_ _see clearly that I was unhappy with my reality, I wanted to be out of my small flat, out of the town where all I_ _was doing was living to work. I wanted to be free, in nature, but all I did was substitute my reality for the_ _games . . ._

At that time however, being reminded of Skyrim and gaming got me thinking very differently: I pondered that if experience (or reality) is simply something that is detected by our senses and relayed to our brains, then computer games are experiences. As I was thinking upon this, I found myself entering a long tunnel on the road, it was totally empty and quietly still. I walked on through. As I did so, I imagined that I was in a computer game–an amazing virtual reality game right then and there! How did I know otherwise? I began to think that games could be so much better than real life, in that they have far fewer laws, no internalised power structure etc. Bring back tribal-humanity I say! The tribal system controlled our numbers, strengthened our genetics and enabled us to live in freedom with the earth. I wondered then, how after all this travel, would I be able to re-integrate myself within society and continue my existence? Would I get a job? I felt that I couldn't do that, I don't need much money and I don't need security, I also hate the lack of freedom and the restrictions having a job gives. Could I go on another quest and travel again? Then what? Travel like that my whole life? I kept reaching a wall in my mind which was huge, impassable and was emblazoned with: 'Something more . . .' I felt that my life was missing something. Would I go to New Zealand and get a camper? I wished that something would happen that took the decisions of life, out of my hands. I wanted a world-changing event like an apocalypse or alien invasion. I wanted something that would end mankind's civilisations worldwide, and return us to tribes, to nomadic peoples, to Skyrim. I believe that many people may feel the same . . .

I kept on going along the L200 for a couple of hours, and then I got board. I came across a red-route walking path and–though I had vowed not to do any more crazy red routes–I took it. As expected, it went up and up, but it was again–worth it. After travelling through tiny fields, over fences and across streams, I came to the summit which was just shy of 2,000 meters woop! I was actually amongst the clouds up there! Just afterwards, I came to the 'Hochtannbergpass' which I felt would make another wonderful site for a 'Rainbow tribe' gathering. No way for me to access the internet had presented itself yet though, so I was still unable to contact them. I continued past the lake and through Wolfegg into Warth. There I took the 198 south. My map showed me that I could follow that road for about 15-20km, then head easterly on another road and that would take me all the way to Innsbruck! I was hungry in Warth, and so on the way out I stopped at a small cafe for food. I bought a burger, stole some cheese (sorry), and sat outside to eat. Someone had left a half-finished bottle of coke on the table, which I gulped down and also I had found some sliced red pepper in a bin–thank you! People were sitting on other tables and I'm sure they saw me with the coke, by now though, I was enjoying pushing boundaries and seeing what the public made of it, anything to make people think.

_I know it was only a coke, but who else do you know that would drink a half-drunk one that they found on a_ _cafe table? Most people would say, 'You don't know where it's been.' Or, 'Who has had their lips round it?'_

_Thus, when people see me doing it, they are mentally repulsed. T **hat** is what I love to do–make people feel_ _repulsed and uncomfortable, in order to challenge their way of thinking directly. I didn't give a shit! I was_ _happy to have some free sugars, and by now, over many years of eating stuff from bins, the floor or the wild, I_ _have developed a damn good tolerance for bad food!_

After eating I went on my way. At Lech (which was a lovely place), I waited a while outside of the Spar. I could see the bins at the back and usually, small, rich towns are ideal for bins. After 15 minutes though, I decided it wasn't going to happen and I moved on–there were lots of staff there and for some reason, I didn't want to have a confrontation then, even though all they can ever do is tell me to get lost. I must have been tired!

The road took me through lots more awesome tunnels and little towns. After going through Zur (didn't like that place), it began to darken and I started to search for camp. There were no trees at all in the area though, and I began to feel the familiar swell of fear in my system, at the thought of a race to find camp in time. This time however, I was ready. I felt the fear, I accepted it and I let it flow through, and then out of me. The panic did not rise, I was calm. I said out loud to the universe: 'I trust you.' And I meant it. I was prepared for whatever the universe decided to give me, good or bad, and that gave me freedom from my fears. I knew that whatever happened, I was ultimately powerless, I would either camp well, or not well, but either way–I would be alive!

I ended up making one of the worst camps I have ever done, but in one of the most awesome places ever, with the most incredible view . . . After ages of walking and not finding anywhere, it got so dark that I was forced to stop on the side of the road. I chose a flat outcropping, with the road on one side and a cliff edge on the other. It was about 10 square, no trees to string my tarp or hammock, but there were two old fence posts jutting from the ground–must have been from a fence before the cliff had fallen away. The posts were sturdy enough for me to tie one side of my tarp to, and then peg the other side into the ground. I put my hammock on the ground under that and bingo–Camp! I had barely any room to move, the main road behind me had traffic until late, but the other side: I looked out across fields to cloud-swathed peaks in the distance. Goats climbed the cliffs down below and tinkling from their bells echoed up to me. I had a cigarette and I was totally at peace. I thanked the universe, the smile wouldn't come off my face. If it rained, I was probably going to be screwed but I really didn't care at all. Night!

**Day 44**

Sleep was OK that night, not good–just OK. The rains came about an hour after I got into bed. It was not strong rain, but it lasted for ages and ended up collecting and bowing my tarp. This then dragged my tarp down so it was touching me in the night. My tarp is really good but if it touches something, water can move through it, thus–in the morning I was wet, and cold, and stiff. I was also finding, that sleeping upon the ground was very difficult. On the plus side: I had not fallen off the cliff (I had slide down pretty close though)! I packed camp and got back to walking. I took the 197 road easterly towards St. Anton am Arlberg and whilst doing so, I reflected: I felt I was definitely getting to the point of almost total trust in the universe. I felt that it was very similar to faith, in fact–I realised–it probably was faith! I decided that it was not faith in a God however, more of a 'force' or a guide, something that showed me things and gave me choices. I saw that the universe had always given me exactly what I needed at the time, but it was on me to take those things, to notice them and have the courage to go for them. That meant being open and free-flowing enough. I didn't worry about food anymore, or water or a place to sleep. At first, on the trip I had worried so much about those things, and, as written–I would often panic about them. Now though, I felt that my faith in the universe had grown and that I was becoming a sort of, monk. Instead of the panic that would often surface before, I now had clarity and calmness. Stresses were leaving me and were being replaced with trust. I felt that I could do anything and the universe would be with me. Not that I was invincible, simply that I didn't care.

It meant that the way I travelled had now changed. Today exemplified this: instead of actively seeking things that I needed, I simply relaxed, and let them come to me, instead of searching for bins, I simply searched the ones that I came across. I found more food that day than I could have eaten in five! I made 10E–without even busking–before lunch: 5E in a bin and 5E given to me as I sat drying my kit! I felt strong and confident and free. I also thought a lot that day about the similarities between my 'universe' faith, and other religions. For example: 'The lord is my shepherd and I shall not want.' That's exactly how I felt about the universe–If I don't want, and I'm open and trusting in the universe, it protects and guides me ( _the word **guide** is particularly _

_important–it means that the universe never 'tells' anyone which way to go, it simply offers choices and gives_ _little signals. We always have a choice, in everything we do. If we did not, then we would not be free. Fate_ _therefore, is not in control, it does seem to have a hand now and again however, like we are fated to have_ _certain choices in our lives, yet they are still choices . . . Look back upon the path of your life, it often seems_ _like there are things which are just too much of a coincidence, or too perfect, not to be fated. But if you were to_ _go back, to a point just before that 'perfect' or 'coincidental' thing happened, you could have always stopped_ _what you were doing and laid down for a sleep! What could have stopped you if you really wanted to??? Are_ _you seriously going to tell me that fate stopped you sleeping?)._ So the universe guided me to a massive patch of strawberries, wild alpine strawberries that tasted incredible and I ate my fill. Another thing I had begun to notice now, was that in every situation at all, ever, there is, or there are–negatives. So taking me, on this journey, as an example–its things like: Weather, supplies, buzzing things, camp etc. etc. If we can accept that nothing in our lives will ever be 'perfect,' and that we are the same, then we can relax a little, accept situations more, and enjoy the positive things rather than lamenting the negatives.

I was now on a pathway to Pettneu, having gone through Anton in a reflective, happy daze. The sun was out in full and it was a gorgeous day. Pettneu was a lovely little town and I found some home made gnocci and a ham and cheese roll in a bin (' _the universe is my shepherd and I shall not want,' was now a mantra of mine!)_. I stopped just outside of town to eat by a little river. I pondered more . . . I started to think about what I could do for the universe, since it was always doing things for me. I decided that it would not want–or need–worship, since we are all the universe anyway. I felt that because we are all the universe, then we can strengthen or weaken it through our actions. In order to strengthen it, I realised that all I need do is love it, and show my appreciation. I could do that by saying thank you more, for the things it was doing for me. I could laugh with it too–it has an awesome sense of humour ( _it would have to really, in order to survive living out each and every_ _one of our lives without going mad! That is the deeper meaning of omnipotence_ ). Or I could notice the beauty that is life and energy and nature–it is everywhere, and it is the universe's greatest gift to us. Therefore I should care for it as much as possible too, don't litter, don't kill except for survival. Enjoy the earth! I should also love and care for my fellow humans–I should give as much as I possibly can do, without thought of reward. I was pleased, I felt I was understanding the universe a lot more now, and that meant that I understood myself more too. I continued walking, I turned the pace right down–really relaxing and letting things unfold as they will. I ended up getting all the way to Strengen on the 316. En-route, I happened across a phone with a number displayed and was able to call mum and dad which was amazing. They were still very worried about me! I walked along a wonderful trail through a pine forest, the path was of the softest pine needles and it went merrily up and down and all around that magical place–I loved it! Just past Strengen, it began to piss down so I made camp quickly.

**Day 45**

Woh, It rained a lot last night! It dribbled in at both ends of my hammock, and my sleeping bag got wetter and wetter. There was absolutely nothing I could do about it though, so I just tried to sleep through it. By the time morning came I was pretty tired, and so I lay in my hammock for a while. I eventually got up and found that my kit was absolutely covered in woodlice! I brushed as many off as I could find, packed up camp and continued.

five minutes along the path took me to Pians where I found some very rewarding bins, getting sausages, fags, bread and a jar of tartar sauce too. I had an incredible coffee and croissant in a little cafe and then the sun came out, yay! I laid my kit out to dry next to the fountain, in the village centre. The road signs had begun to incorporate Innsbruck, which made me giddy with excitement–I was conquering the Alps! I had a rough idea of my route after Innsbruck, down towards the sea: I would have to go through a bit of Italy or otherwise I would have to take a pass further to the east, and that would mean a much longer journey. I had not planned to go through Italy since I had already travelled a great deal of it, but it turned out that the area I would be going through was partly new to me, so it was fine.

I noticed that I was getting physically stronger by the day lately, my body was now capable of so much more than when I started: Walking 10 hours a day was now no problem at all, carrying a 20 kilo bag whilst doing it was a breeze. My mind too, felt better–clearer and more focused. The people of Austria were, I felt, much the same as everywhere else, the Arabs and the blacks that I met there were the same too. If you smile and say hi then people are generally nice to you. I think the media has given people who aren't white a bad reputation so that now, there is a divide between white people and 'not-white' people _(sorry, but that is the easiest way to_ _write it! It's such a pathetic situation we now find ourselves in, where we cannot describe someone for fear of_

_sounding racist. The colour of my skin is white, the colour of his skin may be black. So what? Am I racist for_ _saying that? Of course not! I'm racist if I feel that I am superior to someone who does not share my skin colour._

_THAT is racism. Why cant we say that black is black and white is white? Would a kid be racist if he says,_

_"Mummy, why is that man black?" It is simply human nature to describe stuff by how we see it–get over it_ _people!)._

It seemed to me, that there was distrust from white people to not-white people, and from those people in return, there was an underlying dislike because of the distrust that had been shown to them! What a crazy situation! I just said hi to everyone I met and smiled no matter who they were. Everyone is a person just the same. But–as I said, the media seems to want to reinforce segregation, and it seems, where minorities exist in a country, they are a little distrusted and maybe even shunned, this leads to them feeling unwelcome and so they segregate themselves, creating their own communities which only leads to more separation and therefore, more distrust through lack of understanding! I wondered what _their_ homelands would be like for me? I had never travelled to India for example, or Africa or south America or Asia or Russia . . . So many places that I want to see and experience. Would I be distrusted? I had begun to believe that humans are fundamentally the same, no matter where in the world we are. Money and religion are the things that change us, not colour of skin ( _money_ _IS religion too, but that's another story . . . )_. I began to think that perhaps, once I had reached Greece, I would go through Turkey and into the east. A woman in the cafe this morning said that Greece is heaven, maybe I will just stay in Greece for a while? Who knows!?!

I arrived next in Landeck. That was a very big place but it wasn't that bad. It struck me as a sort of, frontier town because the land changed around it as I went through it–the south facing and east facing slopes of the mountains had given up their verdant-green-grasses and pine forests, for craggy, grey-orange sandstone rock and scree, dotted with short bushes instead. I also saw two–Catatonian-looking–ruined forts up in the cliffs. The bins were incredible again . . . I shall not want. I began following a great little bike trail which was signed to Innsbruck, so I was off the road again and happier. Then it rained. Man when it rains in the Alps, it really rains!

The sun was shining and then boom! Torrential downpour. Luckily, just up ahead was a shepherd hut of some kind, with big enough eves for me to shelter beneath. I was forced to wait there for about an hour while the rains plummeted. I wondered what to do with myself as I sat atop my bag. I smoked, I ate some chocolate, then my subconscious clawed at me–eat some more! I wasn't even hungry, it was simply because I was bored. I mused that this was why meditation is important, because those voices never, ever, stop. It's why we make such good consumers: All media needs to do is fan those flames, and we are totally in their control. I resolved not to eat another thing. I didn't and that pleased me–I felt I had exercised my control over my demons again. I began to use my time more constructively after that: I watched the slugs emerge from the wet ground and slowly make their way towards me. I experimented by feeding them different things and noting their reactions. They seemed to enjoy cherry . . .

After the rains stopped, I got another hour or so of walking in. I ended up around 65km from Innsbruck (roughly tow-three days walking), and then the sky began to darken menacingly. I quickened my pace as I was nowhere near a camp spot, and then it began to spit. Up ahead was a wide bridge across a fast river. It was just out of town and so I decided to check it out underneath for a camp–it was absolutely perfect! There was a sand bank that I flattened and then laid my hammock upon. There were big stones with which I made a fire pit, and there was dry wood aplenty for a fire. It was still early in the day, I could have travelled on since the rain had now decided to stop, but it was such a great camp that I chose to stay. I lit a fire and relaxed for the evening, watching the waters flow by.

**Day 46**

I had a fun night! It only rained a little, and I spent a lot of the evening reflecting and thinking. I slept OK, I still found it hard to sleep on the ground–even soft, sandy ground! I kept singing the same song all day long today: 'What if god was one of us.' Well, sections of it to be precise . . . well, two lines to be exact: The main line, and the line that goes:

"What would you ask if you had just one question?" 
I found it very funny, as the only question I would ask god would be: "How ya doing?" To which I already know the answer: "Pretty good thanks!"

Greed. That's our biggest problem I decided. For me, I can see it manifest physically, in my belly and my stealing. Today I bought a coffee–my one extravagance of the day, at lunchtime. I had that coffee together with a cigarette and some chocolate. Chocolate which I had earlier stolen from a service station. I sat to the side of the path in some shade to enjoy it (it was a take-away coffee), but I realised as I ate the chocolate, that I didn't need it at all, it was pure extravagance. In fact–I could get fat living that way I thought. Food was easy to come by most of the time for me, and yet I noticed that I was always on the lookout for more. I had not felt hunger for more than a little while on the journey, I was in no _real_ danger of not having enough, so why was I consumed by finding more? I realised that if I didn't change my ways, I would just keep on stealing food I didn't need and keep on being driven by the pursuit of food, so much so, that I would miss the beauty that was around me and possibly get arrested for shoplifting. I saw that greed had a hold on me once again, and once again, I needed to put that right. I decided to start another vision quest to do just that. First one day, then two etc. etc. So as not to shock me too much, and so as to build up my will power. _Greed is a loud and terrible voice from within, that_ _constantly booms: " **MORE**!!!" It is no coincidence, that the 'mouth' of hell is often depicted as a huge, gaping_ _maw._ I saw clearly then. I felt bad that I had succumbed once again to my greed demon without knowing, and in my blindness, I had fed it. I was firm with myself and vowed to implement change, starting now. No more stealing _anything_ unless I desperately needed it (which will most likely be never). _In life–do what makes you_ _happy, but remember that greed is a false happiness that never sates, it's always temporary and it grows the_ _more you feed it. Vision quests and meditation help against greed. Walk. Spread love and energy. Share._

I hit the road again after lunch, feeling a lot more positive. I continued to follow the cycle track which wound it's way alongside the wild river, and the railway line. The day became perfect–hot, but not too hot for me to walk. The sun shone upon the wondrous beauty of nature which was abound there. The mountains surrounded me, cloud-capped and proud, and I decided to start my vision quest right then and there. I began walking at a more relaxed and steady pace, I decided not to eat at all until my body _told me_ that I was actually hungry. I also shed my day-bag, which I decided was a manifestation of my greed in that–it was used to steal and to carry extra food that I didn't need. I decided also, to only drink when the universe sent me something to drink, or when my body told me that I was undoubtedly thirsty. These resolutions made me feel strong, in control and goodly. I felt a peace come upon me then, it felt . . . right. I knew then, that I had discovered the biggest enemy to my inner peace: greed. And then, what the Buddhist's believed in became clearer:

'Eliminate grasping.'

I whole-heartedly concurred, but with one addition: not, in order to attain 'enlightenment.' If I seek to stop grasping in order that it brings me enlightenment or peace, then it is false, because I would still be grasping! I would be grasping for enlightenment or peace–which are noble things true–but grasping is still grasping, no matter what is grasped for. _I am reminded of the dream from a few days or weeks earlier, in which I fell to the_ _foot of the demon of greed who screamed, "PUPPET!" I am now absolutely certain that it was, what some_ _religions term as: 'the devil' inside of me. I think that most religions have got it very wrong about the_ _incarnations of good and evil, and the places where they dwell. They are not places far away. I believe_ _strongly, that all these things are actually **internal** –within each of us–and when addressed and understood as_ _so, they can be fought._

So I continued. At first, it was very easy since I had just ate and drank. I said hi to everyone I passed and I felt happy and light. Then the cravings and the voice inside me started: 'I could have this for lunch, Mmm that would be nice.' I kept on going. I still said hello to everyone I met on the way. I began picking up litter and depositing it in bins as I passed too. After a while, I became tired and wanted for a bench to rest upon, I came upon none–the universe–it seemed–wanted me to continue, it wanted me to challenge myself. I kept going, though I was very tired and getting more and more hungry. Then, for the first time on the journey so far, I saw a fellow traveller coming my way! She was on foot just like me, with a big pack and few clothes on–in order to keep cool while walking. She was sun-browned and wolf-lean, and grinned at me as we drew nearer. I grinned back–a road sister! I greeted her:

"Hallo meine kleine scwester!"

We stopped and chatted. Her name was Noja, and she was travelling from Austria to Spain all on foot, just like me! Except–the opposite direction! She was a little older than me, with kids at home, and she told me that she alternated her life between work and travel and the kids. We shared stories and email addresses and

philosophies. I would have talked all day long with her, perhaps even turned around and asked to go along with her, but I knew that my destination was Greece, and that I had to complete my journey. It was an absolute delight to bump into her, a traveller like me on the road, and I thanked the universe profusely for the pleasure. I said goodbye to my road twin, promising to contact her once I arrived in Greece and we parted ways. I then came across a bench–thank you universe! I had a rest and then carried on. I took lunch when I was finally hungry for real–after what felt like an age–next to the mighty river that I had been walking alongside all morning. I sat upon the warm sand and watched the white-water rafters careen by. Further down the sand was a family whose three boys kept having races up and down the riverside, laughter peeling out. I felt so happy my head felt as if it would float away! On examining my foot, I saw that it was healing well, as were my sun-burnt lips. Good news! Once fully rested and no longer hungry I continued.

Next, I met a couple of African dudes who were working on the land, I shared some of my cherries with them and they told me all about Africa. They told me that I should definitely visit there one day as it was in their opinion, 'the most beautiful place in the world.' I may just do that one day! I needed to acclimatise myself a little more to the heat of course, but that was happening now–every day as I travelled. I then met a German dude, travelling on a bike and we chatted for a time at a fountain. Tasty water! I decided then to resurrect my day-bag thing, only this time, I would use it to carry _only,_ food that I found along my way–the food that the universe offered me. It meant that I would begin to rely entirely upon the food that I scavenged, and only keep a one day supply of emergency dry food in my rucksack. It meant total trust in the universe–I would be eating hand to mouth, day by day.

I was about 20km from Innsbruck and I was amazed at how far I had travelled that day: Even though I was going at a relaxed pace, I had already covered 40km (my average day was about 35km). The land had begun to open out on both sides as I had walked and in the distance, I could see a set of three mountains huddled together, I was sure that Innsbruck nestled beneath them. I continued and ate when hungry. It felt good, I was more in control now, not a puppet responding to clamouring voices. I carried on for a bit and then felt a prickle, looking behind me I saw the rain clouds closing in. I figured that I didn't have too long, but I saw nowhere I could camp on the path I was travelling. To my right, a small distance away was a little wooded area next to a few houses, so I headed there. I ducked into the woods just in time and the rain came pelting down in force. I got the tarp up quickly and only got a little wet in the process. Twilight had begun to set in but I was not yet tired, so I tried to meditate under my tarp. It was tough to do as I had not meditated in a very long time, but it was good to try. When darkness came, I took to my hammock for bed.

**Day 47**

I slept pretty well considering. The rain carried on long into the night and a little managed to find a way into my hammock, dampening my sleeping bag a bit–but not too bad. I got up and hit the road once more. I decided to continue with the hand-to-mouth ethos, and ate a breakfast of cherries and crisps that I had found. It was a very overcast morning, I couldn't even see the three mountains in the distance. I felt pretty good though. I stopped at brunch time for a cup of tea and a smoke. The sun began to creep out from behind the clouds and I felt that a great day was on the way. The fag made me feel awful however! It sapped all my energy from me and I felt like a zombie for a good half hour after. Maybe it was actually due to loading up on sugars–the crisps that I ate for breakfast and the tea, who knows? Next, I forced myself to eat an entire chocolate bar that I had saved in my rucksack. I was trying to prove, that greed never sates. I took the whole bar and I wolfed it all down. And you know what? I felt exactly the same _after_ eating it, as I had done _before_ eating it–only a little more sick! I realised then, something vital in my war against greed: That it is always the anticipation that drives us. I also learned another valuable lesson: Never eat a whole big chocolate bar! Also, I vowed to cut down to only one fag a day, which I would take just before bed in order to relax me a little, and I would not buy anymore, ever again. If the universe wanted to _give_ me tobacco, then I could take it if I wanted. After a while, I began to feel more like myself again and less like a zombie. I travelled through Telfs, continuing east to Innsbruck.

It became a glorious day! The sun came out and I took lunch at a little river, sat on an old bench. Lunch comprised of all the things that I had found so far that day: Sausage, cheese, raisin bread, tartar sauce and cucumber. Because most were found in bins, the quality of the items was not great, but it was food, and it was all from the universe, and it meant that I was loosening myself from both greed and society. After I had eaten, my food supply was in the red again, having only 75cl emergency muesli, two sausages, and an apricot that I

had just found. Good, I thought, the vision quest was taking shape. Part of me however, was pretty scared. I was scared at the prospect of carrying no food and relying upon the universe to deliver it to me. What's the worst that could happen, I asked myself-Hunger? I wouldn't let myself starve! If I spent too long hungry then I would be forced to buy food, so all I might have to go through would be a day or two of hunger, which honestly–I felt I probably could do with, in order to cultivate a better respect for how easy it is–in the western world–to eat at will.

I rested a while on the bench, watching the waters of the river flow by. I then continued, feeling very strange inside: I felt light and a bit insubstantial, as if I was a ghost, almost. I began thinking, that there are ways to aid my acquisition of food without grasping for it, where I walk–for instance. So I decided to leave the bike track, where pickings were mild, instead opting for a route that took me into the towns along the way, thereby optimising my chances for finding sustenance! Literally immediately I began finding food: Two cans of energy drink–hardly touched–outside of a Spar, together with three cheese rolls in the bin outside the same store. Bread was sorted! Then, a little on down the road, were masses of tayberry bushes, then plum trees, and then a gorgeous little fountain with the freshest tasting water! I was sorted for the whole day, the universe had provided for me and all I had to do was think a little about where I walked! It was the beginning of a great partnership I felt!

I soon arrived in the town of Inzing, which I reckoned was around 10km from Innsbruck. I saw the road stretching out down the hillside before me, the outskirts of Innsbruck in the distance. I knew that I would head south from Innsbruck into the hills towards Italy. Innsbruck represented for me, the gate into the southern area of Europe and the sea–I was very very excited about both! I looked about me and breathed in the air. All the mountains, so glorious and mighty, it felt incredible that I had walked to this point, through those giants and in fact, _over_ some of them . . . the small ones anyway! I had crossed countries on foot and soon–half a continent. I felt confident then, I felt like I had it down. I continued down the rise to Innsbruck.

I ended up camping in one of the most ridiculous camps I have ever made, but I will get to that later . . . The rise didn't in fact get me to Innsbruck after 10km like I thought, just another small town by the name of Schiebstand. It was all good though. I carried on and then boom! In the grass on the side of the road I found a fat wallet! I quickly pocketed it and continued, excited to open it when I was alone. A little while later, I found a bench just off the road and sat to take a look. The universe had given me 100E in cash, and a fake ID! The dude on the driving licence looked just like me–WTF!?! I had been wanting a fake ID for years, but I never really thought it was possible and then, it just came to me on the side of the road . . . wow! I could not get my head out of the clouds. I had put all my trust, my life even, in the hands of the universe not 24 hours ago, and it was responding in a way that blew my tiny mind. I continued, with a massive grin on my face and the next thing I found, was a wooden pole–absolutely perfect for what I needed–which was a pole to drive into the ground and string my tarp from, for times when there were no trees around. All I needed now was another one to do the other end of the tarp! _The pole also made a great walking stick incidentally._

I next arrived in Unterperfuss, and at a supermarket there, I found a map. It was a little confusing, but I made out that if I carried straight on, I would get to Innsbruck, but if I went right, I would go through sellrain and then Greis, which a guy earlier had told me–was the way to Brenner (or Brennen?), and then Italy! I wasn't sure however: The map didn't show me Brenner or Steinach, which I knew were also on the way to Italy. I asked a girl who worked in the store and she told me that the way to the right, took me to Italy. She kept saying,

"Genau." which I think meant, 'That's right.' I was still not convinced that it was the correct way, something felt wrong, but I decided to take a leap of faith, what did I have to loose anyway?!

I took the right hand fork in the road and after a while, I stopped at a fountain for supper. The sun began lowering as I ate, and I was treated to one of the most spectacular views I had ever seen, as the suns rays became a deep orange, casting moody shadows on the canvas of peaks. I found some cake in the bin at the fountain, but I had to fight the ants for it first. After eating, I drank my fill from the fountain, hoisted my pack, and prepared to continue up the steep road into the hills, and Italy . . . maybe. The road wound up through a pass–steep and long. I began looking for a camp as the sun dropped lower. I saw two fantastic caves on the riverside below, but the river was too rough and wide to cross with my pack _(believe me, I would have crossed_ _if there were any way I could, cos them caves were epic!)._ A little while on, I came across a stack of old concrete pipes of about eight feet long and three feet in diameter, yup–I decided to camp in a pipe! They were at a slight angle, but not too bad, I simply lay my hammock on the floor of the middle one, and hung my tarp at

the higher end. Boom! Camp was done :). I was pretty concerned that I would get fuck-all sleep, since it was a concrete floor and it was concave too, not to mention that it was sandwiched between a loud, raging river and a main road. But hell, I wasn't going to miss a camp like that! I had my cigarette for the night and then took to bed.

**Day 48**

Yup, it was almost impossible to sleep, but It was a great memory :) I also meditated before bed–for longer than I had in a long time–I was fighting my inner demons full on now. I woke up feeling really good and I laughed out loud because of the absurdness of waking up in a concrete tube! So worth! I continued up the hill south-westerly. Every single part of me knew that it was the total wrong direction, but I figured that I would follow it until I knew for sure as–like the concrete pipe, who knows what I would come across next?! After a gruelling hour of uphill walking, I found myself in Sellrain. The touristic office was shut (it was Saturday) and thus, my plan to get a map and find out where the hell I was going, had failed. I paused at the town fountain and considered my next move. Then a guy went into the tourist office–it turned out that it was a joint building with the local bank, thus if you had a bank card, you could get in to the touristic office via the bank! I waited for the guy to come back out, and then I asked him if I could go in and get a map. He kindly obliged me and waited as I found one. Back outside at the fountain, I checked my position. Yup–Totally the wrong direction entirely!

Still, lesson learned: Never **** follow directions given you by the public, unless your intuition agrees with them.

_Most of the time, people want to feel important or knowledgable and thus, when asked for directions, they will_ _go: "Ohh yea, I know that place, it's . . ." When actually they haven't got a bloody clue!_

I turned around and went downhill, back the way I had come. On the way I crossed a small field by the road, I heard someone whistle harshly but thought that it couldn't possibly be directed at me, since I was only crossing an empty, unfenced field . . . another whistle, and I turned to see some guy making 'get off the field' kind of gestures at me! Thing was, I was not 10 yards from the edge of the field by then anyway, so there was really no point in rudely whistling, then angrily gesticulating at me–the git! I decided to show what I thought and stopped, raised the old middle digit, then danced in a wide circle all over his field. Then I continued at a slightly increased pace, checking behind me often! I passed by the concrete pipes and the fountain, then arrived back at the damn supermarket from yesterday. The 'Ge nau' girl was not there. I took a seat outside and bought a cheese roll and a tea. After that I continued on through Lars. All the while my day-bag filled with food that I found or scavenged from the bins, I had got tons of fruit, veg, meat, bread and drink–even jaffa cakes, all found with little effort at all. I was very much sorted for the days food and even tomorrows breakfast.

I decided to chill for a bit, and so I sat in a local park I found. It was another gorgeous day and hot too, both behind, and in front of me were mountain ranges, it was incredible. I loved the Alps. I continued on after a bit, to Innsbruck which–as I expected–was a huge, dirty, loud, idiot-filled consumer centre, and I hastened to find my way out. On the spur of the moment, I chanced into a hotel, thinking that I might be able to pay for internet access and Facebook my parents. The people at the reception desk were awesome and let me on totally free, even when I stank so bad and was so dishevelled! Thank you unknown hotel! I messaged everyone I possibly could, as I well knew that I might not get another chance for a long while. I got chatting afterwards with the guys at the front desk, one guy in particular seemed amazed at what I was doing, and when I asked him if he was happy, he said no–he couldn't stand his job! I told him: 'Why don't you leave then?' And I told him how I survived on the things that I found. His face was a picture, it's like it just does not compute for many people, the way I choose to live!

_I suppose that if you had told me, when I was working and living a 'normal' life, that I could ditch it all and_ _survive by the things I find along my way, I might have been similarly boggled, and found it hard to believe._

_But I didn't go from 'normality' to where I am in one step . . . it took me several steps. It all started when I went_ _to New Zealand for a working-holiday 13 years ago. I won't go into it now, as it's a very long story, in fact I_ _intend to write about it one day so look out! I will just say, that when I returned to the UK after that year:_ _Everything had changed. I saw things with new eyes, I had discovered that there were other ways to live one's_ _life. A thirst started then that I don't know will ever be slated. And I don't regret it one bit!_ The guy at reception was at the point I was 13 years ago–he wanted to do something, but he didn't think doing anything was possible. It is. I tried to instil in him, some energy and some drive to just go for it. Something in his grin and eyes told me, that maybe I had fanned a spark, I like to think so. I left and–following more directions that a dude had given me at the supermarket today (why man, why???), I took a right after the big bridge and headed

out of Innsbruck and into the hills.

I was so glad I took his directions, they didn't feel wrong, they took me high into the hillsides south of Innsbruck. I could have taken the other route, down in the valley next to the road. That route would have been a ton easier, and I wouldn't have had to climb an almost-mountain. I also wouldn't have chanced a steep footpath, got lost, and had to forge a way through mega-thick brambles, to return to the road! I was absolutely drenched with sweat, covered in scratches, and adorned with bits of forest by the time I arrived in the first town in the hills–Igels. Igels was a tiny village but it was a huge salvation. A wonderful fountain made of an old cattle trough stood in the centre, I rested, washed, and drank my fill there. I ate a little too and then continued.

The next village along was Patsch, and I stopped for a while at the market to check bins. They were empty, but on the way out I was given something far more valuable: A view that took my breath and sent it packing. It was the best view of the Alps I had seen, and I honestly say, that if you are ever in Innsbruck, go to Patsch, on the main road 'RommerstrasBe.' Just before you enter town from the north, there is a market called Mpreis, stop there and feast your eyes upon the glory of the Earth. There is a pass that goes into the mountains to the south-west and the line is perfect from that little place–you can see all the way to the end, mountain after mountain, until at the end stands a massive mountain king, a snow-capped colossus wreathed in clouds! It was like a runway to heaven. I just stood there and gawked at it for ages, totally lost in it. The sun shone down upon it and it was glorious, a tear left my eye. What a gift, thank you!

I continued on and then began to think to myself: It was hard doing the hand-to-mouth thing. Not because I couldn't find any food, just the opposite in fact–food was everywhere! My day sack had gotten huge and heavy.

Drinks, fruit, veg, meat, breads, sauces, even Nesquick and Horlicks–Big jars, almost full! I was now finding clothing too: An awesome flip flop, a high-tech mountain bike glove, a hat and I had passed a jacket too. I was being offered so much stuff, I didn't know what to do with it all! Eventually I was forced to ditch some of it, that was very hard for me as I really hate to waste anything. I tried giving it away to others that I passed, but no one took any–Some people even seemed a little affronted by my asking them! It seemed to me, that they felt there may have been a catch to my free stuff–the only catch, was that they were slightly old or used. What's so bad about that? But everyone turned up their nose. _What a dire point civilisation has come to, when good food_ _is offered, in an honest way, but cos the offerer is a dirty-looking traveller, and the offering is not new, it is_ _frowned upon. Fuck society! It's just a trap, a clever way to brainwash you into living in a tiny box and_ _conforming your whole life. Get out–get out while you still draw breath! What's the worst that can happen?_

_Will you starve? Will you get beat up or raped or mugged? Will you never again be able to get back into it if_ _you leave? Well??? **THINK FOR YOURSELF!!!**_

So several items went into the bin again, I felt bad at that, but it had to be done. I rested a little and then pushed on. Night began to threaten. I followed the road as it wound along the hillsides, but found nowhere to camp. All the fields were treeless, and the land to the side of the road was too steep. After around two hours I was in trouble–it was almost dark, and I was exhausted. I kept following the road and thinking: 'Just round the next corner . . .' But there was still nowhere to camp. I tried my camp stick idea, but when I hit the stake with a brick it simply split, so that idea was out. In the end, I made camp right in the middle of some grass inside a hairpin bend in the road. I used a bench to hold up one end of the tarp, my half-a-stake propped the other end.

There was a next of mega-big ants nearby, but I had little choice. I plonked my hammock on the ground under my tarp and got in. Behind me was a little mini-church place, like many similar I had seen alongside these roads. I figured it was just a very pious area, They wouldn't mind me camping near it . . . Surely . . .

**Ju**

**ly 31 st -A**

**ugust 12 th 2016. I**

****

**taly**

**Day 49**

I woke up very tired, I had lost a lot of sleep last night for two reasons: first–a mental storm came in just as I started to drift off, it rained hard–thunder every few seconds and lightning too. The tarp sagged down onto me a little, just enough to do the water transfer thing a small amount. It meant that I was on edge cos I didn't want to get wet. And the second reason, was that I was woken up sharply at some horrific time in the black of the night, when the pole that held up one end of my tarp was _thrown_ at me. All I could see in my bleary eyes was the silhouette of a pair of legs standing over me, the light from car headlights blazing behind them. Someone must not have been so happy, at my 'desecration' of the little alter? "Hallo? Hallo?" I implored of the legs, but they were already turning–job done–to leave the scene. I heard a car door slam and the car drove off into the night.

What could I do, exposed there in the middle of a hairpin turn in the Alpine night? I found the pole, drove it back into the ground, and tried to pull the now–very limp tarp taught. It didn't work very well, but I was sheltered once more and too tired to improve it. Just as I began to drift off once more, I heard another car–

perhaps the same car–pull up nearby, and again I was lit up by headlights. This time I was ready, and I shot up under the tarp. Whoever it was must have seen that I was going to put up a fight this time, as the car drove off with nothing more happening.

Sleep came fitfully after that, and I moved on as soon as I was able at dawn. I wondered, if it had been someone annoyed at me for sleeping next to a holy place, then where was the holiness in their actions? If it bothered someone that much, then they were obviously pious, and so shouldn't they be 'loving their neighbour,'

or 'turning the other cheek,' 'doing unto others' and all that? Shouldn't they? I mean: What would Jesus have done? Or the saint whose alter I camped near? Would they have wanted the pious man to 'defend' them in such a way? What was 'right' in that? It highlights a massive problem with religion–the people who follow religion rarely seem to act in a way that their God would endorse. Look at religious wars and all the atrocious things throughout history, that have been done in the name of a 'God.' perhaps it all comes down to fear?

Anyway, I continued. It was a cold and windy start to the day, but it was yet early. My feet ached due to the long walk to find a camp last night. Lesson learned I think–remain hidden when camping! After an hour or so I stopped at a path-side bench for a rest. What did I find just lying there on the ground by the bench? A friggin pair of short-shorts–absolutely perfect for me! No more having to roll up my shorts to stay cool, and they were my size too, thank you universe I said :) The universe never ceases to amaze me, all I had to do was dry them out a little as they were covered in dew, and bingo! After I had rested, I continued, passing through Pfons where I saw a little guest house called 'Guest House Fuch' which made me laugh (the 'h' looked like a 'k' on the sign). I then passed through Matrei which was a pretty big town, but since it was a Sunday–everything was closed. It then started to rain a bit, so I hung out in the train station for shelter. It was lovely and warm in the station, with nice benches too and after looting the bins (finding pizza, beer and kebab), I relaxed for a while and ate.

The bins on my way had also proved generous, and so I also had chocolate buns, bread and a bag full of cooked veg. I used the toilet in the station and noticed a mirror. I realised that I had not looked at my reflection at all in almost 50 days, I had no idea what sort of a mess I was. I took a look and I was blown away–I looked totally nuts! My beard had gone long and crazy, I had nose hair all over the shop, there were cuts and scratches all over my face, my nose was cracked and peeling and my neon-yellow vest was now pretty much black with grime! I was pretty damn trampy-looking. It pleased me (but I removed the nose hair!). I waited a while for the rain to stop, back in the main room. It was still pretty chilly, but the universe had offered me a really nice looking hoodie on the way, I hadn't taken it however, as I simply didn't have the space and I felt that I didn't really need it, but thanked the universe all the same. The rain died down and I moved on, and out of Matrei.

Through the drizzle, I came upon Steinach-am-Brenner and a couple of other small places, then Greise-am-Brenner. There I stopped for a rest and a smoke. I smoked so that I would remain sat for a while longer, since I was acutely aware that I wasn't resting as long, or as often as I should have been (having a fag tended to zonk me out so I used this to my 'advantage'). I noticed that I had developed the calves of a racehorse! I felt it a shame that the day was still drizzly and overcast, but I imagined that sunshine was coming. After only a short rest (due to the bench being wet), I shuffled onwards. It was only 5km more to Brenner and Italy–It was uphill and still spitting though, so it wasn't a pleasant 5km. I liked Brenner, it felt pretty cool: A bustling frontier

town, full of cops, army, tourists and revellers. Tons of shops, tons of eateries and tons of character. I cheered as I entered and waved at the army dudes, they waved back, which was very nice of them. I then stopped at a street-side food vendor and delved in the bins nearby. _This is a hot tip by the way, if you are ever stuck for_ _food: Bins near to outdoor takeaways tend to have food, especially if there are places to sit nearby._ I struck gold, well–sausage and chips! I took the road out of Brenner and into Italy proper! On the way, I passed a big supermarket and stopped for a busk since it was raining, and I needed a rest anyway. I made 10E in about an hour so that was OK, then a dude sent me on my way. The drizzle was still falling as I walked down the hill into Italy. I realised that I was probably going to be wrong about the sun emerging . . .

All the signs had changed once again. More brown ones now, and most place names were now written in

Italian and Austrian. I began following a lovely bike track which was parallel to the road. It used to be the old railway track and I followed it for ages. As night began to close in, I began camp hunting, it was still raining and so a ground camp was out of the question. In Austria, not a single building or even a hut, of any shape or size–was derelict. It seemed that they passed down their buildings or simply took great pride in them, often looking after them with their own handiwork. Now that I was in Italy, I began to see lots of derelict buildings and I thought to stay the night in one. They were however, all full of broken glass and ceramic, or had evidence of occupancy at some time so I was loathe to chance them, especially since I had no idea on the etiquette for sleeping in 'other peoples' derelict buildings? In the end I decided that I would sleep on a bench, in a train station that I would surely soon find. I was now pretty confident sleeping on flat, and hard ground–after all–if I could sleep in a concrete pipe, I was sure I could sleep just about anywhere!

But time passed and my legs ached and I saw no train stations at all, in fact–I was still way up in the hills on the old train line, and night was about to set in. I felt the familiar flutter of fear within me, but I breathed deep and continued. Then I came upon a barn filled with a mound of dry, grey gravel. Salvation! I climbed the gravel and sure enough, there behind the mound was a dip just perfect for laying my hammock. I realised how lucky I was to have found it, I very nearly had to make a camp on the wet ground by the side of the track, but this was perfect! It was roofed and walled on three sides, the gravel mound covered the open side and the view . . . Holy crap! I manipulated the gravel into a flatter base and then made my camp. I was very much looking forward to a well earned night's rest. Food-wise, I was pretty much out: Even the day bag was empty, so I was back to hand-to-mouth. I was pleased with that though, it was how I wanted to travel. I was excited to see how long I could do it for. Ironically, the drizzle stopped and the sun came out, for a goodbye kiss as it fell behind the mountains once more. In doing so, it lit up my surroundings just enough for me to really appreciate what I could see–half way up the mountainside, looking back at the pine-covered slope of another, whose top half was enshrouded by beautiful white cloud. It was amazing, since it all looked like a giant picture, framed as it was, by the three sides of the barn I was in. bliss!

**Day 50**

I slept pretty well for someone who slept on hard gravel, not enough though, and I was still tired when I awoke. It was such an amazing place to sleep though–I didn't regret it. I broke fast and got straight back onto the road, heading south to Sterzing. I was forced to travel on the road itself rather than take the foot paths, since they kept trying to take me off in random directions and I really didn't want to get lost. As I was approaching Sterzing, I came across an awesome derelict building that I just had to explore. It was very odd indeed–some sort of old shop and bar. The cellar downstairs was full of musty racks of cheap wine, there was a stuffed ferret or something on an upstairs desk and the whole place was strewn with items, as if the owners had disappeared all of a sudden–maybe they couldn't pay the bills? After exploring the whole place, I carried on into Sterzing.

I found Sterzing to be a very nice place indeed–pretty old buildings, places of interest and such, filled with tourists but then–good places often are. I stopped at a street vendor for a burger and it was bloody huge–Well pleased! I found tayberries on the roadside and then some guy sat next to me. We had a chat and he bought me a coke woop! I found the tourist info after that, and got a new map, I then saw that I was headed the right way!

Just outside of town I did a busk at a massive Euro Spar, where I managed to make 5E before being sent on my way. I swung straight round to the back of the building, where I looted their bins! I got four slices of pizza with sausage on :) On the road again, I saw the Carabinieri (one of the four Italian armed forces) up ahead. I had my short-shorts hung to dry on the end of my tarp pole, and they seemed to think it was a weapon at first, they knew I was English somehow though . . .

"Hey you, stop! What is that?" One of the cops hollered at me. He was carrying a sub machine gun on his chest.

"Hey, it's just my shorts man, don't worry!" I replied with a wave.

He beckoned me over to their patrol car. Great . . . _I have had a few experiences with police across the world_ _over the years. In my opinion, Spanish police are the ones to avoid at all costs–they are totally harsh and_ _crazy. English are pretty alright in general, French either don't give two shits, or are all business-like and the_ _Italians all think they are in a movie and play roles! They will always try to make a scene–play up for the_ _Italian police, be charming and flattered and all that crap, and they are totally fine._ I gave my passport to the

'bad cop' and chatted for a while with the 'good cop.' He was really nice, told me all about his family and I shared what I was doing (minus certain details like: busking, freedom camping and raiding bins!). In the end, I was given the all clear and was waved on. I waved back and hit the road again.

The voice of greed came from within me then, a powerful force that threatened to engulf me, it said: 'Eat some of that lovely pizza you have Moss, eat it now even though you're not hungry!' I fought to resist all the way along the road, onto a pretty little bike path and into the woods. In the end, I stopped, sat on the ground beneath the trees and meditated. I only managed about 10 minutes, but it really helped. While I meditated, I imagined that my greed was a river and I was struggling upstream against it. I knew that I could let go at any time and succumb to the flow, it would be an easy life but I would have no control–I would be a puppet. But I also knew, that if I struggled against it–trying to move upstream–then I would be always struggling and toiling, and my life would be hard. Does the flow get easier upstream? Could I go another way? Could I get out of the stream entirely??? I didn't have the answers, but asking the questions helped a little, in that: It showed me there were choices.

I continued onward into the blazing sun, along the long road. I crossed paths then, with an awesome dude on a bike called Dick. We stopped for a chat on a wall by the road. We shared our stories and he told me he had flown to Venice, which he explored for a bit, then his parents came–bringing him his bike, and he was in the process of riding back to Munich from there! Biking seemed like a great fun way to travel round there, I imagined that next time I would bike it, screw carrying the damn pack everywhere! I gave Dick a fag and my best slice of pizza. It felt so very good to give things away, rather than be given them all the time. We said our Shalom's and then we parted ways. The mountains had begun to get smaller now and they wore lush green jackets of furry pine. I found some absolutely exquisite parasol mushrooms which I ate raw.

_Fungi is a difficult area in survival food–there are many species that can be confused with edible ones, and_ _many species that can poison or kill. A couple of things that I have picked up over the years regards fungi are:_



There is a species that looks identical to the field mushroom but makes you violently sick (I ate some so I know just how violently . . . ). The only way to properly differentiate it, is to scratch the surface of the cap. If it stains an unmistakable yellow in seconds–discard!



If you are unsure, never, ever, ever, ever eat it. It's just not worth it!



The mushroom, or toadstool, or whatever, is the fruiting body of the organism called mycelium, which

can live for thousands of years and span miles!



'Jelly ear' is probably the easiest edible fungus to recognise. It actually looks–and has a texture like–a brown ear. It grows mainly on dead woods all over the place. Eat raw :)

I then found a four story, derelict apartment block which I snuck into for a look-see. It was pretty damn epic!

After that I carried on and ate dinner in an old railway tunnel, then I finished the day by making camp in the woods on a hill, just off the bike track. I was so fekkin knackered, and so fekkin relieved to get in my sleeping bag. I was out like a weird belly button (I made that up)!

**Day 51**

I woke up feeling great! I needed a good sleep and I had slept like a log. I decided that sleeping in the hammock is still my favourite. I put my short-shorts on under my long shorts, that way, it meant that if the sun

was out or if I fancied a swim, I would be able to simply whip my long shorts off and boom! I did look mega gay in my short-shorts though, but whatever! I hit the trail–a lovely bike track through the rest of the woods.

The sun was behind clouds but it was warm. I made my way through Fortezza, Aica and then had to go north around a big mountain that was in the way! I passed by lots of agricultural ground, and so I picked corn and apples to sustain me. The sun came out later, and In it's beautiful noon heat, I approached a gorgeous riverside town–short-shorts out. It was large but not too large, and it was surrounded by forests, hills and mountains.

Very picturesque all in all. I wandered down the footpath I had picked up, into the centre. Muhlbach was it's name, and I thoroughly recommend it. I was pretty worn-out and hungry so I decided to indulge a little, and sat at an outside table of a pasta restaurant. I bought a carbonara and took all the bread that they could give me, including some from the other diners tables when they went to the toilet! I then smoked and relaxed for a while.

When I was ready, I continued on the path again out of town to the east.

I became very tired then, walking was incredibly hard and I felt totally drained. I still managed about 20km though, and got to San Sigmund, where upon my left ankle started to hurt like a bitch. It must have been around 5pm and I was totally done-in. perhaps the big lunch had made me tired? I stopped at a motel place on the main road for a tea, ice cream and a fag _(so much for the 'one before bed' thing!),_ and stretched and massaged my feet. I felt like finding camp asap, I was so drained. I thought that maybe it was because I was addicted to sugar, since after the tea and ice cream I felt great again! Only thing is, if it was indeed sugar addiction, then I had been an addict for years and not known _._ Getting off that train was therefore going to be mega-hard, I honestly felt that right then–I didn't want to either _(this is a hotly disputed thing–is sugar a drug? Why is it put in so_ _many things these days, and what effects does it actually have on us? We crave it–that's for sure, we feel keenly_ _it's absence and we salivate at it's prospect. Try not eating sugar for a few days and see how you feel . . . )._ I walked on for a bit and found a place to camp blessedly fast. It was in a wonderfully mossy forest, on a hill overlooking the fields to the north. According to my map, I was a few km west of Bruneck–a city which marked my next southwards leg. I really needed another good sleep.

**Day 52**

Man I slept soooo well! I woke up feeling amazing and was ready for anything. I felt like I was in control of my life again, I had a plan–get to Greece, maybe check it out a little if I liked it, maybe go if I didn't. Either way, when I do go, fly to New Zealand, get a camper and live there six months of every year, and travel about for the other six months–Genius ( _all I needed were large sums of money to fund the plane tickets every six_ _months, but I reckoned I could get that with enough busking . . .)!_ It was an absolutely glorious morning. The sun's rays came down in beautiful prisms, through the thinning trees of the forest's edge where I had camped, it was so peaceful. My feet felt better, I just needed to look after them a little more from now on. I hit the old dusty trail! It was a very quiet morning, on several sections for around 10 minutes at a time, I was totally alone and it was awesome, the whole apocalypse movie thing again. I travelled on winding foot paths towards Bruneck, and just before St Lorenzo, I exited the forest to find the wonderful little farming hamlet of St.

Martino. It lay on slopes that rose up behind it forming a backdrop of beautiful mountains. There was an incredible little castle on a hill in the middle, and the mountains curved around it. As I came in from the west, the sun shone upon the castle, and it was one of the most beautiful sights I ever saw. I whistled happily as I carried on to Bruneck. Once there I negotiated the crowded streets to the central plaza and there, rested at an outdoor cafe. I got an ice cream and had a fag–my new favourite combo. Everything felt so much lighter in my mind, now that I had a plan. _It's pretty obvious that my vision quest had calmed down a little, what with all the_ _ice cream and fags! I felt that two days was enough of a vision quest for now!_ Later on, I continued through Pesche and there, I found the best bin of the whole journey! It was an 'Mpreis' bin and it was absolutely full of incredible food. It would have taken a big car to fit it all, I found it very hard to leave! I filled my rucksack, day bag and another day bag with fresh pasta, yogurts, cheeses, chocolate, biscuits, Actimels, cooked meats and more. I took as much as I could carry, as I knew it would decrease quickly. Plus, I wanted to increase my strength–this was a good method.

Next, I took a bike trail alongside the SS49. The day was incredible: blue skies, warm sun and views to die for.

My short-shorts were doing me proud–there is nothing like a cool breeze on a hot day up ones inner thighs! It seemed that the day went on forever though, with amazing vista after amazing vista. It seemed as if every time I stopped for a quick rest, a completely new set of mountains were around me. I finally stopped for a big rest and took my shoes off. I asked a passer by for the time–thinking it to be around six–but it was only half four! I had already made up my mind not to walk anymore, since I was shattered having just done 25km with three heavy

bags. So I just sat on the grass and relaxed. My belly was complaining and I had wind . . . It was probably the tiramisu which I found in Bruneck–it hadn't tasted quite right! The beautiful afternoon became a beautiful evening as I sat contentedly. Church bells began ringing cheerfully, it must have been six, and so I decided to make camp. Not far along the path I discovered a clearing, across an old railway which was perfect. I needed to hit Toblach asap tomorrow, as my map had reached its end and I wasn't sure if I should head south, or continue east a bit more. I set camp and ate one helluva dinner, followed by four different kinds of chocolate–yes, I indulged! Actually however, I felt great about it! I didn't 'pig out', I merely 'sampled' the things I had. I hung, snug in my hammock and looked forward to a good sleep.

**Day 53**

I slept well–once I fell asleep, anyway. I believe that the chocolate kept me up due to sugar, Damn. I felt good though, I was excited at the prospect of soon coming out of the Alps, and onto the next stage. I soon found my way to Toblach and the tourist office there. They had some small maps but luckily, they also had free internet computers which I used to check the route. Damn lucky I did too because it turned out that the route I wanted to take, didn't end up where I thought it would end up at all! I had been doing OK with my compass and tourist info maps thus far, but up there in the mountains, a mistake in direction could lead to a dead end, and having to waste hours back tracking.

My next milestone was Innichen, where I took the SS52 south-east, up into the mountains again. I was so glad that I had filled up on supplies from that bin, because the route I had taken was very rural, and I imagined the pickings would be much slimmer. It was also absolutely stunning. I travelled upon the bike path running parallel to the road, running parallel to _that_ , was a little river, which gushed merrily by. I went through Sexten, but didn't find any, it was really nice though! Then onto Moos. At a pizzeria on the way I found bread, and meat off-cuts which I added to my supply. To the south-west I could see an absolute colossus of a mountain, topped with fat, fluffy clouds. Then the road I was on began to get a lot steeper . . . After what felt like an age–in which I went up and up and up–I found myself at 500m above sea level at the Kreuzbergpass. I stopped at a mountain stream where I soaked my feet, got my breath back and took lunch.

I continued on and to my relief, the road then went downhill which was a lot easier! I walked and walked, the winding road took me through thick pine forests, down into a valley far below. I passed a really interesting homestead, where the owner had stacked his hay totally by hand tools. It looked so idyllic there in the sunshine.

My feet began to hurt again. I reckoned I had done 30km already, and most of that had been up! The signs on the road told me that there was just over 100km left of it, where upon, I believe it entered Tolmezzo. From there, I would head south to the sea! I was so looking forward to being at the sea's side again, even though it was so beautiful up there in the mountains. I ate some chocolate, so as not to eat it before bed and have trouble sleeping. I decided to do another 5km of the road so that it left 99km remaining, which I could do in three days.

I did about 3km before I saw a settlement a little way on. My feet were also screaming at me to stop so I decided to make camp. I found a fantastic spot, nicely away from the road, behind a little hill. It was on a slight slope but it overlooked a little stream which tinkled merrily as it trickled down the hill. I ate, I had to throw some cheese away cos it literally smelt and tasted like shit. _In my book, I eat pretty much anything, whether it's_ _out of date, half-eaten or mouldy. But if something smells and tastes like a turd, I draw the line!_ I was sad to see it go though, as that was a lot of wasted protein. Still–c'est la vie baby! I turned in feeling very good.

**Day 54**

I had a restless night for some reason, and I woke to a very cold, grey morning. It didn't detract a jot from the scenery though, those mountains were incredible. In fact–it gave the peeks a darker, more stoic and foreboding quality, which was a beautiful contrast to the sunny norm. I was soon packed up and on my way. I first came to Padola, followed by Dosoledo and then Candide. Those were amazing little hillside villages, very traditional and distinctly Italian. They were full of little antique shops or 'Antichito' shops, where they sold all manner of old stuff from brass pans, to wooden ship's wheels. It began to rain on the way out of Candide, not a lot–so I continued. Five minutes on and it was fast becoming a deluge, so I stopped in a cafe for a tea and a cigarette.

The matron put a slice of orange into my tea which was lovely. As I sat and relaxed, village life flowed around me. It seemed that everyone knew one another there, everyone was 'ciao-ing' each other by name, and even in

the midst of this–most rainy day–there was laughter and lively energy. Man did it rain! It just didn't stop and I was forced to wait in the cafe for ages until it died down. As soon as it did I hit the road, but another five minutes later, it went nuts again! This time I found shelter under the eaves of someone's garage, half an hour I had to wait there until it calmed again. Once it did, I took my chances and began walking again . . . Yup–five minutes later and it pissed it down again, this time, complete with thunder and lightning! I sheltered on a bench in the porch of someone's house, what they gunna do–throw me out into the rain? It didn't seem like anyone was in anyway. It was very cold, I stuck my hands in my pockets, sighed and sunk into the bench, since it seemed that I might be there for some time. After an hour, I was fed up waiting and went out into the drizzle that was the aftermath of the storm . . . I hoped.

I walked for about another hour, the drizzle by that time, had soaked me through and I was shivering. My feet were totally sodden and numb too, but what else could I do? Unfortunately, the place I last found shelter was the last town for quite a way, and so once I was on the road, I had to continue on it and deal with the rain. I promised myself that if I came across a restaurant in the next town, I would stop and eat there, so I could dry off too (I was still wearing shorts since there was no point putting my trousers on, they would just get soaked and stick to my legs). The next town had nothing at all so I went through it, then sat on a bench to eat once the rain had finally stopped. I ate dry pasta, cheese and meat. After moving on a little way, I came to a small church and I went inside to warm up. It was empty, I took advantage and stripped off! I then retrieved my thermal gear from my pack (hadn't needed that for weeks), dried myself, and put it on. I changed my soaking socks and put my trousers on and felt a whole heap better. After a brief rest and thank you to the church and universe, I carried on.

I made it to San Stefano, and then I followed the signs towards Tolmezzo and Udine. I was confused though, I had planned a route using the tourist info maps, which would take me to Tolmezzo, and I was pretty sure that I should stay on the SS52 for a long way yet. The signs however, were telling me to turn off the SS52, onto a road I didn't know and which wasn't on my map. I stopped to ask some dude for directions and he bade me come inside his house for a coffee. He ended up making me a whole meal! His name was Paulo, and he

introduced me to his wife–Lourene, daughter–Chiara and his brother–Dario, It was so lovely! They sat me down in the little room at a simple, rustic table and we chatted as we drank coffee, and I ate a big pannini. My Italian wasn't great but we understood each other–for the most part. Then Paulo, his wife and his brother left, and it was just me and Chiara. She scooched up next to me on the bench, which really took me by surprise, and we continued chatting. I went into a half hour lecture–almost, on philosophy. It was fantastic though! The room seemed to grow hot with energy as I poured out my beliefs and feelings and ideas. Chiara really seemed enrapt in it all, she had a massive smile on her face! I think that I may have done some good :) Then the universe gave me a cue to leave when her sister came in, and so I said farewell and went to exit. It began pouring down again literally as soon as I stepped outside. Paulo came and handed me an umbrella, and thank god he did because I wouldn't have got far without it! I walked off up the road and into the storm.

Lightning and thunder raged around me and the wind was ferocious, but only the bottom half of me got wet. It was still a bugger though . . . I walked for ages until I topped the hill and got to Sappada where, since I had walked so far and was soaked and cold and hungry, and since I hadn't eaten in a restaurant earlier, I decided to get the hell into a restaurant asap, to eat and to dry off. I squelched into a nice pasteria and sat down. I had gnocci with cheese and warm salad, and secretly hung my socks from the radiator behind me while no one was looking. I also put all the bread that I could find into a bag for later, both from my table, and any other tables where people had finished and left some–Ha! I also put as much of the parmasan cheese as I could get away with onto my meal . . . well, it's free! I finished it all with a black tea and then began making plans about where to spend the night. I had seen a big church on the way in and I reckoned that would be a good shout: There was no way after all, that they would throw a guy with no shelter, out of the church and into a rainy night right?

When it was time to leave, I fished for my socks and found that they were still soaking. The radiator hadn't even been on . . . Shit. I slid my feet into the cold, wet, sloppy socks and into the cold, hard boots–Yuck!

I went outside and holy crap–It had stopped raining! Not only that, but the bloody sun was coming out too–

Wtf weather?! I continued, and took a forest trail off the main road and to the east. It took me into a small village on a hill and then the road headed north, that was bad–I definitely didn't want to go north, I wanted south-east! I had no idea where I was or where I was headed, and so I knocked on a guest-house door. The guy inside said that yes, it was definitely the way to Telmezzo, and so I thanked him and continued. I was now on the SS332 and though I was still a bit freaked out by the northerly direction, I reasoned that I didn't have a

choice really: There was no other way except backwards–so I went on.

It began to get dark and it did so quickly, I couldn't see a likely camp spot anywhere near as the road was sided by steep hills. The ground was way too wet for a ground camp either, so I had no choice but to continue and hope. Luckily, around the next corner was a small stand of pine trees up on the bank. I climbed up and made camp under their sheltering bristles–It was a great camp, nice and dry under those big pines. It was such a relief when I finally took my socks and boots off again, my feet had gone a pallid white and were wrinkled like prunes with the damp. Man it was so horrible to walk in that–being cold and wet. I hoped tomorrow would bring sun so that I could dry my kit and clothing. I prayed to the universe for it as I went to sleep.

**Day 55**

I slept like a baby! My dreams were scary, but cool–I was being chased but I escaped :) I breathed deeply of the fresh mountain air, and set to work packing up camp. The day looked good, it wasn't sunny yet but it definitely looked like it would be soon. The last thing I did . . . I put on those horrible soggy socks and boots.

Fuck–So cold and awful! I trudged off down the hill. The sun came out after half an hour of walking, and so I stopped at a car park. There I laid out all my kit, together with most of my clothes, for drying in the sun. The signs told me that I had 32km left of the road I was on, which fits correctly–the distance to Telmezzo, It was also now headed due east, which also fit, so I was pretty happy–it meant I was probably on the right path.

Probably. I calculated that Udine was 90km away and so the sea was about 200km, which meant that I would be there in about a week.

Once my kit and clothes had dried enough, I packed them up and continued. The road (SR355) was fantastic, it wound its way through the most gorgeous mountains and forests, little village after little village dotted alongside the glinting river. Forni Avoltri was my favourite of the day, where I stopped for a chat with an old woman. Neither of us seemed to understand what the hell each other was saying–but we were all smiles, and she gave me some water which was very welcome. Back on the road and suddenly there was a commotion

behind me–beeping and tooting, then I was nearly knocked off the road by a copper on a moped! He flapped his arms crazily at me–I was pretty sure he was ordering me to get off the road–the cheek! But he was right, I probably should have . . . I was then assaulted by a mass of bikes, it must have been some sort of race and they whizzed by me, all sweat and calves. After the bikes there was an entourage of vehicles: Ambulances,

mechanics and the sort, even a taxi–in case someone got lazy I presumed. The chaos receded into the distance and I was alone once more.

I walked on for another hour or so, and then had to stop cos my boots were still a little squelchy, and I was mega-hungry. I ate the last of the cheese I had, and also finished the honey that was in a broken jar. I only bit one sliver of glass in the process, but I was ready for it–no harm done. All I had left after that in the way of food was bread, oats, a little meat off-cut and chocolate mmm. I had finally beaten the chocolate craving thing: chocolate could now stay stored, safely until I needed it–no voices telling me to eat it, no gobbling it all up.

Good news I felt. I carried on and ended up doing 18km, mainly downhill to the town of Ovaro. That was the first not-nice looking place I had come across in a long while, but it did have a couple of supermarkets. I went in and made some dietary changes. I did not buy chocolate! No, my treat from then on became fruit :) Fruit contains natural sugars, tastes lovely and is a lot cheaper than chocolate. It was also a whole lot better for me. I also got jam for my bread and some juice. Well played! I realised that in the last week, I had been 'played' by greed again. I had stopped in restaurants, gotten ice creams, smoked fags and ate chocolate. I saw that it was bad. Chocolate in particular had been a big addiction of mine, but now that I was beginning to resist it's charms, I knew that beating my greed would be less of a harsh struggle.

I was now back to 500m above sea level, and I was only 70km from Udine. The day was still utterly gorgeous and I felt focused and revitalised. I had come up with a revised and clearer plan, of what I would do after Greece if I didn't stay there: It would be December at the rate I was going, so I planned to fly back to the UK

and see my family for a nice family Xmas _(I can't stand giving gifts and stuff at Xmas, but I love the family get-together thing)._ Then I would collect all the gear I needed for New Zealand and fly out there. Once there I aimed to get a van and do the six month thing that I had thought of before. It sounded perfect.

After Ovaro the valley opened up, and man what a view! The road was ahead of me, cliffs on my left and the valley curving back and forth into the distance. On my right was a river, sunk in the base of the valley and

finally, the mountains, getting shorter and shorter the further south they were. It looked like how I imagined prehistoric earth might look. The SR355 is highly recommended as a biking or mountain holiday route, I can tell you. I stopped a little further on at a little river crossing to wet my aching feet. A bee had stung me on my left ankle that morning as I went through a field. Why always the left gives me troubles? It was all healed and OK by then as well. I was very pleased, since I could now place my palms on the floor in my stretch routine. It was a milestone for me that I had been keen to get to for a long time, yay!

I continued all the way to Villa Santina, which was just 7km from my goal of Tolmezzo. It was late by the time I came into town and so I had dinner under a bridge, then set up camp in a very cheeky spot–right between two gardens just off the main road. I hoped no one had seen me. Holy shit balls–as I lay in my hammock drifting blissfully off Into sleep, the most incredible, otherworldly sounds came to me! There was deep, undulating base notes, mingling under bright and tingly higher notes, and it all reverberated off the cliff side which I was camped beneath. It came from quite far away and was soft and echoey. It felt like it was a part of my dream, then I realised that I knew the tune . . . It was friggin Pink floyd! I couldn't believe it, there must have been a concert going on in nearby Tolmezzo, and I was in a perfect spot to receive the waves. 'Shine on you crazy diamond' was played and with the reverberations around me, it sounded even more magical than ever, what a gift! I was in heaven as I drifted to sleep.

**Day 56**

I woke and smiled. It was a lovely sunny morning and I swiftly packed up camp and went on my way. I came across a super-sized Spar on the way and got into their bins–hee he! I found tons of bread. I went into the shop itself too and bought tomato paste, so I can do a kind of pizza. I had been thinking loads last night (Thinking was one of the main reasons for this journey after all). I looked back over the last 10 days or so and, as I said before–I felt I had regressed a little, and greed got a hold on me again–right after two days of good vision questing. I saw that I became more and more consumed, with the desire to consume naughty stuff like chocolate or cigarettes. The road became something that I had to fight to stay upon, and many were the times I considered getting off, grabbing a plane, and going home to a warm bed and convenient food. But I had pulled through. I could now see that escaping greed was going to be a long, to-and-fro battle for me–I accepted that.

Also, I saw that I had updated my plan with greed influencing me: Six months with a camper and computer games etc.–no! I had had my perfect 'computer game' existence when I was with Clare, and it was perfect (on paper), but I was unhappy and destroyed it all. That life is not what I wanted, computer games did not make me happy! I realised, after a lot of thinking, that I needed to go for bigger, better dreams. Real dreams–the kind that are hard to admit to because they seem so impossible to achieve. That dream for me is living 'off the grid.' I could see myself on a secret piece of land somewhere warm, building a hut. I dreamt of surviving off the land, in balance with nature: growing, hunting, trapping, learning. I felt that I needed to find a hippy village somewhere, or some land where I could start one myself. So this, became my new plan: Return to England for a family Christmas. Go to New Zealand (or somewhere) mid January. Get a camper van or just walk around–c'est la vie. Fuck the rules about visa's, how will they find me? Find hippy communities or land. Boom!

And so, with a renewed sense of clarity and purpose, more determined and open again–I continued. I passed Telmezzo on the south side, not actually going into the city at all since it was too big. I crossed a huge bridge over the wide river and then came to a Lidl. There I got loads of yogurt drinks which I added to my stash, my bag was now very, very heavy again! I lost the road that I was following –the signs confused me–and I ended up on the SS512 which, by happy chance, not only lead to Udine, but also took me along a much more pleasant route, than the big, dirty-old SS13 that I was planning on taking. I'm so blinking lucky I laughed! It was the hottest day so far and my bags were much more heavy than usual, but I was OK, I just stopped a lot more than usual and got my feet out of my boots whenever I could–no bother. I was looking to do 25-30km walking, and I had done 14km already so I was well on target (2pm).

There was a big lake coming up and I fancied a swim since it was so hot, and if it was nice enough, I was quite prepared to camp there and screw the walking target! The lake was absolutely stunning, big and purest blue, totally still and inviting. It was also absolutely freezing–way too cold for a swim. Man, it was the nastiest lake ever: Looking so beautiful and yet too cold to swim in, Damn! I settled for wetting my feet and resting for a while before continuing. It was so damn hot, easily over 30 degrees. It made it so hard to walk–my vision kept swimming (lucky bastard!) and it felt like I was high. I became drenched in sweat. I stopped again after 4km. I

focused, stretched and set my mind: Do 25km today. Do it, I said to myself, just keep going. I did another hour of walking, then wet my feet in a canal I passed. The road I was following was so long and straight and boring.

I walked some more. I wanted to stop so badly, man it was hard going.

I made it to some town about 10km from Gemona and there I stopped in a bar. I bought a coke and refilled my water, I also found out that it was half five–still a couple of hours walking to be done–joy . . . I was given some free pizza at the bar which was lovely, and much appreciated. I reckoned I could make it to Gemona with enough time to make camp there too, then be on course for Udine tomorrow after about 25-30km. So once I had finished and was ready, I picked up my sack and continued. I went through, and out of Gemona–which was a big industrial town I didn't like much. The mountains finally receded, I could see no more before me: I was through the Alps!!! I cheered and felt amazing, I had come through the Alps totally on foot, Woop! I had to call mum and dad–I was overwhelmed with happiness, relief and pride. I went in every bar I came across en route until I found one where I could borrow a phone and make a text. It didn't take too long, a kind bar-girl loaned me her phone and I sent my dad a text. He called back quickly and we had a really nice chat, everyone at home was doing well, and they were very excited and relieved to hear that I would be home for a family Christmas. It felt very right. I thanked the girl and carried on, it was now late and so I looked for a camp. Luckily the habitation gave way to a little forested area between Gemona and the next town, by a river, I made a good camp just as it went dark–very lucky! Mosquito's were out in force again . . .

**Day 57**

I slept very well, It was hot, but that was no problem anymore–I had gotten used to it. I dreamt of an old friend of mine–Amber, and how I should apologize to her. _I got drunk and asked her to kiss me on a night out once,_ _after I had been ditched by another girl. It was pretty pathetic, we had enjoyed a really good almost_ _brother/sister relationship before that._ I decided I must apologise as soon as I could. I then decided that I **will** apologise as soon as I could (I find that language is everything when making vows), that made me feel better, I had begun to notice, that my frame of mind had definitely shifted into more positivity. I could now see that carrying all that extra weight, just so that I didn't risk hunger was stupid: Where had my trust in the universe gone? Where was my 'living in the moment?' All I need carry–I decided–was my breakfast, and emergency supply, then I would simply find stuff or buy stuff as I went. I realised with certainty, that fear had been controlling me as well as greed. Fear, as I said–of hunger.

Continuing my walking I was so much more focused and happy, I felt like I knew what I was doing and it was right. I felt strong and when my thoughts began to waver, focusing on the future instead of the moment, I pulled them back and rejoined the here and now–the road, and I walked on. It really was, like I had begun to meditate while I was walking, everything was clearer: Sounds, colours, smells, tastes. My head felt like there was a gentle space inside it where normally there was a chaos. I realised that the next three or four days were going to be quite tough because of the heat, the fact that I was walking long, boring main roads, and that there were no lakes or rivers henceforth to cool down at, but then, I would be at the sea! No longer would I need maps cos I would be able to just follow the coast, and whenever I got hot, I would dive in and cool down. It was all good.

I saw a sign that said 22km to Udine! Holy crap I was making great progress. I continued. I took a couple of breaks along the way to drink and stretch and take my shoes off. The terrain had become very flat now, the exact opposite of what I had just come through and the heat made shimmering mirages in the distance. Between Gemona and Udine were many towns, where it seemed to me they had had some kind of economic boom and

then an economic collapse: There were derelict properties everywhere, including many retail units and industrial places. There were cracked and pot-holed roads, dusty entrance ways and faded signs. I continued, focused and forward. I soon arrived at the industrial zone on the outskirts of Udine. The road I was on headed south, so I went my own way to the east and came to a small village with a big church. It was around 1pm by then and it was absolutely baking. I got that strange feeling again, like space and time were warping and so I decided I should definitely stop! I sat on the steps in the the marble ante-chamber of the church, there was shade there and toilets, I rested for a while. I washed, drank and ate too. I smoked a cigarette but I found that it relaxed me too much, so I stopped after a half. I decided that I was definitely going to cut them out during the day-time, until I ran out and stopped for good. It was still far too hot to continue, so I sat back against the wall and rested some more. I stayed that way for around an hour and then I felt ready to continue.

It was still baking though, easily over 30 again, but the road continued south-east which was perfect. I found

that there was a distinct lack of water fountains and benches in the towns around there, it was similar to northern France again in that respect. I kept on going though. I was OK. Every time my focus wavered, and I started to sing in my head or fantasise about stuff, I brought myself back. I was amazed at how well I had begun to do it now, it was easy–I felt like I could do anything! The road began to turn eastwards so I took an offshoot south-east again. It soon became a mere dirt track though. It headed behind a small railway station and there, a dodgy looking Indian guy was hanging around. I said ciao and continued. The track then became a path, and then it ended at a gate with an official-looking sign on it. I couldn't understand a single word of it, but I wasn't going to turn back so I climbed over and carried on.

Next on the path, I came across another five Indian guys, they didn't seem as dodgy as the first guy, in fact–

they were very surprised to see me as I walked briskly toward them. I was a little on-edge inside, I had no idea what this place was all about, it was looking to me like some sort of hideout! So I gamely chirped–'ciao' at them all, smiled and breezed past them before they could respond. I continued and luckily I wasn't followed. It was definitely looking like a camp or community was there: There were two trees that I passed which had been torn down in order to obstruct pathways deeper into the forest. How dare they do that to those poor trees! It was blatant, and done with total disregard for the life of the trees. Fair enough–defend ones territory, but surely there were other ways of blocking a footpath? I continued, and the land about me changed from forest, to dry river bed and savannah-like plains. Short, stubby trees lined the track, dirt and sand replaced the soil. Tough, scratchy grasses, crickets jumping and dry rocks abound. Wow I thought–where the fuck was I going?

I walked alone on that path for about an hour and it was soon coming up to evening. There was no sign of civilisation anywhere and then suddenly–a sign! 'Disposata.' I figured that that must mean dump or landfill judging by the area I was in and the remoteness–it had to be. Then two bike riders raced by up ahead and I breathed a sigh of relief, it meant I was headed _somewhere_. Finally, another half hour later and I came to farmers fields, then I saw roof tops ahead, a flock of pigeons signalled that I was heading in the right direction (thank you universe!) and so I rested for a tick. I walked another hour after that and then began looking to camp up. My feet were absolutely killing me as I had done 10 hours of walking, and since the land ahead looked like it became more industrial, I took the first place I came across that I could hang my hammock. I realised once I had begun to set up, that I was very close indeed to a house, but I was too tired to move. I had to be extremely quiet, there were voices well into the night and I was a little on edge, thinking they might hear me at any point.

**Day 58**

I slept well in the end, I made sure to rise before the dawn so I could get away without being noticed. I succeeded. I continued along the road I was following last night and came to a small town with old stone buildings, there was a water fountain, phew–finally! I also found a fresh loaf of bread on someone's window sill which I took as I passed. Later I realised that it probably wasn't discarded, it was likely a regular drop site since that house had no porch . . . whoops! I took my own route for a bit and then found the SS56 which was signposted to Trieste at 60km away–my next big way point. I followed that road south-east for ages and ages, walking in a sun-parched daze through beautiful fields of grape, and past dry rivers and dry towns. I walked until about 1pm and then it was just too hot for me to walk anymore, so I rested in a funny little bar I came across.

I did my stretches out in the parking lot and got a few stares. I couldn't have cared less though–I was free (but also bloody tired!). I asked some dude for directions to the sea–the promise of a cooling dip was tantalising–he told me the nearest place to swim was 40 km away at Guarda: Bullshit! I looked at my scrap of torn map which was all I had to guide me, Guarda looked blinkin' miles away to the south, it looked like there was sea to the south-east around 20km away instead. Hopefully anyway (I was going on the empty bit on the edge of my map as representing sea, not the edge of the region–it could have been either). Nothing else for it, I carried on. I joined another road and then another, again marked Trieste so I felt like I was headed right. It was really hard to make sure I stopped and rested enough, I was so keen to get to the sea and out of the in-land heat, I had to be very firm with myself, but I did rest. My legs began aching after 20km, it was still only 3ish so I forced myself to rest again and had a fag to enable that. After half an hour on a bench in the shade, I returned to the road.

It was still incredibly hot, the road had a heat haze all along it. I got to some town on a river, it was really nice there, I found out it was called Gradisca d'isonzo. It had a lovely pedestrianised centre, a castle, museum and lots of restaurants. They were all closed however since it was Sunday! I managed to get into the tourist office

by begging the cleaners, I explained as best I could that I needed a map and eventually made myself understood. They found me a couple of decent maps and I thanked them and left. After looking at the maps I got so excited–I was so very close to the sea, I reckoned that I would be able to see it in a matter of hours! I tore off and hit the main road–I was adamant on reaching the big blue. I wanted to climb the hill to the south but it was impassable and so I had to go around, via Sagrado (another very nice place). I then found out thanks to the church bells, that it was only half past two! I had estimated the time very wrong and I still had hours and hours in which to walk, It was weird because it felt like I had walked a full day already. Then again–I did get up very, very early.

I made myself stop and take a break at a lovely river that I passed. There I drank lots of the water and then stopped when I recalled the time in Yorkshire, where I drank lots of river water and ended up with

dysentery . . . I contented myself with a wash and a swim instead, which was heaven. Again, the skin came off me in avalanches, and so once more the sun could burn me, as soon as I began walking again I could feel it prickling, so on with the sun lotion again! I got to Ronchi dei legionaire where I found sausages, bread and juice left on a park table–awesome, that was going to make a great dinner! Thank you universe! I also bought some fresh fruit and more juice from a green grocers on my route. It was now 5pm, it was still hot, but bearable now. My legs were destroyed. I realised that I had been grasping for the sea and was still grasping for the sea but I couldn't help myself. I saw a sign in Ronchi for Monfalcone, that was the town which according to my map, was my gateway to the sea and it was 7km away–two hours.

Monfalcone was huge. I was now in such pain from my legs that I was using a walking stick that I had found, I had no choice–I couldn't stop and make camp, it was the middle of a big, dodgy city, I had to go on. Then I caught a familiar whiff of brine–sea air! Another half an hour later and I was at Monfalcone pier (the biggest in Europe apparently) and the sea. I had made it! I was so pleased, but I was also totally fucked. It was getting dark, there was nowhere at all to camp and I could barely move. In the end I bit the bullet and set up a terrible camp in a place that other tramps had used recently, behind a bush. It was full of rubbish and terrorised by these horrible black mosquito's which were totally silent, but it was camp. I shifted some branches that I found on the floor across the entrance as a barricade, and strung up my hammock and tarp. The trees were little more than bushes really, bowing when I entered my hammock, but they would have to do. I went back out onto the marina front and waited until dark before I went back into camp for sleeping, that way I had less chance of visitors. All in all it was a crap night, but hey–I was at the sea!!!

**Day 59**

Sleep was pretty awful that night! It was to be expected though. At least I wasn't disturbed or raped by drunken wanderers. Just as it got dark last night, the wind ripped in and didn't let up until morning! It totally served me right for grasping to get to the sea so much. There were also mosquito's as I mentioned, these were a new breed though, and clever: Silent and black with little white stripes. I didn't hear or feel the buggers until it was too late. I was tired because of it all. Was I learning? I liked to think so, but on this morning I just couldn't resist doing Lidl's bins as I went by, loading my bags up full of food again–sigh . . . Lots of chocolate buns and fruit–so pretty good, but I was aiming to relieve myself of the food bag and be hand to mouth again, buying food if I really needed with my busking money. I couldn't help myself though–especially since it was

chocolate! I told myself that it was the last time I took stupid amounts of food like that again on this journey.

Black clouds drew swifty in, it was looking very bleak, the wind began howling and thunder clapped in the distance. As I left the bins, it hit. I had just enough time to get in the sheltering eaves of a football stadium. I slumped to the ground, my back to the wall and watched cars go by in the down pour. My feet really hurt, my right foot was now blistered as well as my left–that was bad! I was exhausted. I did far too much walking yesterday to get to the sea–I was mad at myself for that, but what could I do about it? I made a mental vow to rest more often _(how many times had I made and broke that vow!?)_ : Four hours walking at a time now and a big lunch break at the sea each day if possible. The rain subsided and I continued heading east out of town.

I refilled my water and had a tea and a fag in a little cafe, I found it extremely hard to get the energy together to carry on after that. I managed another 10 minutes walk and then I had to stop and rest on a bench. I made an agreement with myself–no more day bag ( _again!_ ). I would get to my goal of only carrying breakfast and the emergency supply, starting now I would stock up no more. I realised that it would not only make my journey a lot easier, but it would also make it much more fun–no more rushing about hunting food–I would relax and let

things come to me. I was already a month ahead of schedule for God's sake: I was half way through after two months, I could rest dammit! I was at the sea and new frontiers, so much to see and enjoy, I needed to take it all in, take it slow, rest, look at things, no heavy bag, buy food if I needed and enjoy life. I felt better after these resolutions, I picked myself up and carried along the SS14.

I found a cool church at the beginning of a lovely walking route and I went inside. It was totally empty and I sat at the back for a while. It started raining again and so I looked around the church, gazing at the art and the stone. I decided to pay a penance for my greed by eating some of the chocolate rolls and fruit when I knew I wasn't hungry–that'll teach me! The rain stopped, I thanked the church and exited. There was a sign on the track that mentioned a cave of sorts somewhere ahead, so I walked through what seemed to be old quarries, keeping a sharp lookout cos I love caves! I lost the track after 10 minutes . . . I came upon a group of workers cutting bushes and I offered them some of my chocolate rolls. Only one guy accepted but that was good enough for me, I felt great sharing what I had with a total stranger. I continued along the track and then came to a tiny village on the sea. It absolutely thumped it down again and I managed to find shelter in an abandoned industrial complex. The rain didn't let up for ages and so I decided to explore.

There was an old fish processing factory and sales frontage, there was a mechanics and there were two warehouses. It was amazing to imagine what it would have been like when it was active, some people must have put a lot of money into it all, so why was it derelict? Did the fish dry up? Did loads of people move away?

Was there some sort of catastrophe? I found a 'boobie calendar' in the mechanics (goes without saying!) that was dated 2012. It felt lonely in there, there was a sadness to it all, like some people had dreams and went for them, and the universe went against those dreams . . . Still, it was amazing that I got to explore it all. I found some white spray paint and brown tape and I set to work, spraying my filthy vest and fixing my kit. The rain eventually subsided but it was still very overcast. I took the chance and continued on towards Trieste. The last sign put Trieste at 20km away, so it was now about 15km. I had no desire to reach it tonight, preferring to make camp outside and get there in the morning to explore.

I ended up finding a fantastic walking path all along the cliffs which goes right to Trieste. I was pleased, my day bag was to become a thing of the past and my journey was to become more balanced and fun. No grasping, only pure openness, so no fucking up like last night, but I would always be ready to take any opportunities that came. The path was awesome, it wound all the way to the tops of the cliffs and through the forests. There were big rocks all over the place, it looked ancient. Caves were dotted about too, only small ones though and the signs told me that it had been a defensive site during the World wars. It continued to rain on and off, but only lightly. I managed to keep my pace in check as well as my greed: I ate the rest of the pain au chocolates _only_ when I was hungry, not when the voice of my greed begged me to. I felt a lot better, I felt my inner strength building again. The next place I came to was Sistiana where I felt very hungry indeed. I found nothing there to eat though, but just out of the town I smelled something and knew that I had found lunch, also my feet were aching and I needed to stop anyway–justification.

That was the perfect way to do it–I had waited until I was properly hungry before looking for food, I hadn't found any in the town, then I reacted to an opportunity that presented itself based on how I felt (the smell on the wind and the aching of my feet). No questions, just an open, accepting attitude. The smell emanated from an old hotel run by a surely old woman who gave me a serious stare as I entered. I told her that I wanted to eat and after a while she relented and I was seated. I could tell that she felt I was a risk, she probably thought I would leave without paying or break something or whatever–the cheek, lol! Who could blame her?! I ate a simple pasta ragu with heaps of parmasan, bread and water. The great thing about travelling on the coast was that I could take any path I wanted, with no worries about getting lost. All I had to do was keep the sea to my right and I would be fine. The path I had been following was on the cliffs and it meant that I could see exactly where I was headed too, which made it very easy to judge when I needed to camp and helped me spot likely places.

That was a couple of worries off my mind.

I could see Trieste lying in the distance about 12km away, I had seen lots of forest areas on the cliffs that were coming up, so I was confident of finding a good camp. I began wondering . . . Maybe my biggest problem was simply accepting myself? I wasn't sure, it was a new idea for me and I decided to take my philosophy of not grasping a step further instead–perhaps I would think more about it later. I decided not to grasp the future, and I would do this by not making any plans at all. The only thing I definitely knew I wanted to do, was be home with my family at Christmas, other than that–I decided not to worry about the future at all. I had ideas still, on

things that I might like to do as mentioned earlier, like go to New Zealand, get a camper and stuff. But I decided not to _try_ and make those things happen–rather: I would react to opportunities as they arose, keeping ideas bubbling over but not actively pursuing them, I would let the universe decide what I would do.

_In order to explain this philosophy better, a metaphor is needed: Imagine that you are in a boat on a sea, the_ _tide will always pull you the way it wants. There are oars upon the boat and you can row if you like, but the_ _rowing will be hard work if you want to go any direction other than with the pull of the tide. This represents_ _how we usually live life–we strive to get places or to achieve things, often working long and hard, against the_ _flow of chance or causality. We may never even get there. What I had begun to do now was to stop rowing and_ _find a better way. Rowing was hard, rowing was stress, grasping and disappointment. Rowing was not **living** ,_ _but how else to move? By deciding to have ideas rather than plans, I was still giving myself some some control_ _in my life, but I was no longer fixated on making them happen and using the oars. Ideas are like sails on your_ _boat: If the wind blows behind them, they will catch that wind and the boat will be propelled almost effortlessly_ _towards that destination. I had decided to put several 'idea sails' up, so increasing the chance that the wind_ _would catch one of them some day–or perhaps not–I was realising: That destination, wasn't what was_ _important!_

After a lovely lunch, I continued on the SS14 for a bit until I regained the cliff-top path. It was gorgeous, even though it was a dull day, the view was still stunning. I stopped just after an awesome rock tunnel in which everyone tooted as they went through in their cars, there was a small parking area there with benches and I sat down for a while. That little benched area, after the tunnel on the SS14 just out from Sistiana (just south of Nabrezina), has one of the best sea views in Europe. Monfalcone on the extreme right spoilt it just a tiny bit, but I looked beyond that. The Swiss Alps lay in the background swathed with clouds, the Guarda coast swept in from the right, almost to the centre of the panorama, from there it's gorgeous blue seas and the horizon, then, mirrored on the left side by the coast of Slovakia's north, Muggia and other such little towns nestle on the shore and in the hills of the green coastline, finishing on the big city of Trieste.

The cliffs to the right of me housed a large community of Swallows which were at play in the early evening sky, they chirped like dolphins, rising and falling on the air. They would swoop in real close to the cliffs at high speed and then swerve away–barely missing a messy splat on the wall! Then they would rise again on a lofty thermal, joining the pack up high ready to repeat the maneuver when they next dared. I noticed that many people would stop their cars there, parking up and then getting out for a moment. None at all stayed more than five minutes, they would park, get out, look at the view for 10 seconds, take a selfie, maybe have a smoke and then they would get back into their cars and off they went. Not a single person noticed the birds. Why were they even bothering with a picture? The real view didn't seem to interest any of them for more than a few seconds.

_That was why I did not take a camera with me, many people said that I should have but I have always thought it_ _intrusive on the moment itself. Even writing in my journal–as I was doing there on the bench–felt like spoiling_ _the moment somewhat. Why do we feel the need to record a moment, rather than enjoy it, and live it?_

After a while I sighed wistfully and carried on. Trieste felt very close indeed –around 5km, I felt much more

'in the moment' than I had ever been: I was worrying much less about the future, I was no longer grasping and I had become more open to taking opportunities as they came to me. After a few minutes more I saw Trieste again–it opened out in front of me across the bay, a lovely beige and white in the dying light of the long day. I took some steep steps down towards the sea, the path went through a small woodland just before it got to the shore and so there, I set camp–right in between two 'rich people' gardens. I figured: they probably hardly ever used their backyards anyway ( _bad Moss–judging people_ )! After setting up camp I went to the beach to sit on the rock watching the sunset. What happened? Rich people were there, enjoying their beach back yard–damn! I hoped they either didn't spot my camp, or they didn't mind. I smiled and waved at them, trying to make it look as though I was enjoying the view and not camping on the edge of their property . . . I settled in for a long wait.

One guy pulled out a chainsaw from a bag, oh crap! But it was OK, they were just cutting some wood, once done they retreated to their home up the steps. The sunset was truly gorgeous, those last weeks had been hard in so many ways, particularly the last three or four. I had really wanted to give in many, many times but the sunset–as I watched it–lit me up, sitting on my rock on that hidden beach. It was a warm evening, I could see exactly where I was headed and I felt amazing. I was once again looking forward to tomorrow–not in a:

'because I can't bear right now' way either, but because I was so happy to be alive, here and free once more.

"Thank you universe for teaching me so much." I whispered as I retired to my hammock and slept.

**Day 60**

I had a great sleep, it was a really comfortable, warm and calm night, until about 3am when the ass-hole Italian fisherman all hit the seas, proceeding to shout at each other constantly across the bay until dawn! I thought that was mega selfish, but I didn't let it bother me, I still felt good. I still felt incredibly centred and serene, unburdened by worry.

_For some reason that got me thinking about the strange human phenomena of 'walking by.' I'm sure that you_ _have noticed, when you walk towards someone on a street or whatever and they pretend not to notice you._

_Maybe it's because they fear conversation or who you might be, or just can't be bothered–whatever. Anyway, I_ _notice it happening in built up areas a lot. England is one of the best places to witness/experience it–just go on_ _public transport! I find it incredible that people can be so socially restrained and conditioned, as to literally_ _pretend you don't exist and ignore you. What is really interesting though, is that–in attempting to believe that_ _you don't exist, by creating a false reality within their head, actually it is **they** who then don't exist, because_ _they attempt to remove themselves from reality. You are still there–you know that! Yet they try to hide or_ _persuade themselves otherwise. Take the tree falling in the forest analogy: If there is no one there to hear the_ _sound of its falling, can it be said to have made a sound? If we deny the reality of the situations that we find_ _ourselves in, then we deny our very existence!_

I de-camped and began final approach to Trieste. It was an overcast morning but no rain. The sun peeped through the grey every now again and I soon arrived in Trieste city. Trieste was incredible–it absolutely blew my mind! It wasn't not the city itself however, the city is typical really: It's big and has beautiful buildings and a bustling port and such–no, what stunned me, was on the north west outskirts of the city: The old port area. It was completely and utterly abandoned! The whole damn thing, including an old rail depot, tons of warehouses, factories, customs buildings, trains, cattle market areas, hotels and whole streets of five story buildings and more! I would have needed weeks to explore the whole lot. It was open too–no health and safety there! I walked in and wandered open-mouthed through the old, dusty streets. The buildings themselves were fenced off, but it was the crappy fencing that one can simply lift from the holes and get through. So I did.

I met a couple of girls also exploring and chatted with them for a bit, unfortunately they were leaving Trieste that night and so we didn't become travelling partners, but we had fun exploring a train and some warehouses together. They got scared and had to split when I decided to explore a massive old hotel that looked like a squat. I think it was the fact that I headed up stairs past a rather ominous red scrawl on the landing that said: UP

TO DIE. Ha! That is simply a defence mechanism, half the time squatters are out during the day scavenging food of whatever, but be warned–you never truly know . . . I went up and found it to be deserted, signs of occupation were apparent though: Recently used plates and saucepans, tobacco, clothing, shit etc. etc. After a few hours of exploration I decided that I should be on my way–as I mentioned: I would have needed days or weeks there and that wasn't the purpose of my journey. I went through to the city itself and explored the new port for a bit. I didn't go into the packed shopping/eating areas, I just walked on by, leaving the people to it.

Eventually I began to leave Trieste behind me.

Heading out of the city took me a while because after the old port, there came about 10km of awful industrial zones and motorway crap. At one point I was forced to walk a very narrow space between motorways in order to find my way out. The sea was right there on the right but it was impossible to get to due to all the buildings, I found that very vexing–I would have loved to get to the sea while the sun was out, but I didn't grasp for it–I accepted the fact that I probably wasn't going to be able to get to it, and I continued. I stopped at a small shop along the way and bought food for lunch and dinner, so I didn't have any worries. I rested when I needed, not pushing myself too much which was sensible of me! It was extremely hot though, to dip my feet in cool sea water would have been heaven . . . I got a little lost up in the hills when I decided to take my own route rather than the main road, after a while I was forced to ask for directions. Luckily I was going the right way and just needed to continue. I thanked the guy and went to walk on but he stopped me and asked if I wanted a lift. I explained that I couldn't accept his kind offer due to my 'quest,' we said goodbye again and I walked on.

A while later I heard beeping behind me, it was that same guy, now in his car and he pulled up beside me. He waved his arms frantically and bade me get in. I sighed and once more explained that I was walking to Greece, entirely by foot and thank you but no. He was confused and said something about it only being a small lift into the next town. Exasperated–but polite–I explained that even one small lift in the direction of Greece would invalidate my quest, I thanked him and walked on before he could ask again. Quite funny really! I finally got

out of Trieste's influence and came to Muggia at around 5pm. Muggia was one of the final towns before Slovenia–only about 5km left! It was a great little town, really gorgeous. It had a tiny marina that came right into the town centre which was lined with beautiful old buildings and a promenade. I stopped a little out of town and wet my feet in the sea but it was too late to swim–I wouldn't dry off before bed. I noticed that my feet were feeling a lot better–awesome! I continued through San Rocco which was a very posh little marina town and finally found a camp: Hidden through a walk of thick bushes where everyone seemed to have taken a crap.

It was an old dumping ground and was full of rubbish and big ants, but it was well hidden and there were trees to hang my hammock from so I was grateful. My camp wasn't the best I had made though–the trees sagged a little as they were a little too thin and the tarp was wonky, but it was camp! I ate bolognaise and cheese on bread while the sun went down. Fag and sleep time.

_OK, I must admit something: I was pretty pissed off with myself that night. I was bearing on the past you see,_ _permit me to explain . . . In Muggia earlier on that day, I walked through a place where loads of people had_ _parked up in their camper vans. It was an unofficial site, so all free and hence a wide variety of travellers were_ _there. I noticed a camper with three girls in and they looked cool, they saw me walking by and so I said ciao_ _with a smile, they smiled back and waved and I just walked on by . . . I was annoyed with myself because that_ _was an opportunity right there. Meeting a girl who likes to travel how I like to travel, is something that I would_ _be very happy to have happen to me, I'm not grasping for it, but if it happens, then I would be happy that it did._

_And there, I had a great opportunity, I only had to ask something like, 'Where are you guys from?' Or even,_

_'Nice van!' And we would have gone from there, but I didn't–I walked on without saying anything and what_ _really pissed me off, was the reason why: Can you guess it? Fear of course._

_I let fear control my fate, I was afraid to go talk to them because I feared women at that point. I feared them_ _for two reasons: Sex and relationships. Sex in that–I can't do meaningless sex. After waking up too many times_ _next to girls that I didn't even like and asking myself–why did you do that? The only sex that I now want is sex_ _with a girl that I really, really like. But then that opens me up to pain, the most recent example having been_ _Layla, so as you can see: Sex was a bit complicated for me–as soon as I thought of girls, I worried about sex. I_ _feared relationships because I have a very bad history with women, I have broken too many hearts and I_ _carried a huge burden of guilt for a very long time for that. I couldn't see that guys and girls can be just friends_ _then, I simply saw that on a long enough timeline, friends become lovers and I was a lover that hurt people. So_ _for those reasons, I walked away with my heart aching. It was funny because at first I was mad at myself, then_ _when I thought about it in the way I have just explained, I felt pity toward myself, and lastly, as I lay awake in_ _my hammock listening to the sounds of the festival that I could have gone to, maybe with those girls, maybe not,_ _but part of something either way, I saw that another lesson could be learned from it all: I didn't have to be mad_ _or pity myself, I reacted because of who I was at that moment, and I couldn't have reacted in any other way._

_We are products of our experiences, and the choices we make are ultimately based on that–do we really have_ _choice at all? I walked on by because I was scared, I was scared because of my past. If I had that moment_ _again I would still be scared, but would I make another choice? Would I stay? I realised when I thought like_ _that, I felt it was OK to have walked by–the moment had gone, the choice was made by the MossDogg of the_ _past, as long as I learn a lesson from it, then it was not a bad thing, the lesson: Never let the past decide the_ _present. Yes, we are products of our experiences, but I knew in my soul, that I wanted to go talk to them, it was_ _fear that kept me walking, fear from the past. As I began to relax and fall asleep, my anger at myself dissipated_ _and I came to terms with my past: So I had hurt people–I had also been hurt myself! I had paid the price with_ _over 10 years of guilt and depression and fear, besides, I only did what I thought was right at the time. I saw_ _that I was lonely now–to a degree. I saw that I wanted friends and a life partner and so I resolved to accept_ _those opportunities if, and when, they were offered. I would forget the past and the fears it brought up in me. I_ _would be open, after all, I reasoned that not all relationships need go to sex or serious territory, I can just be_ _friends._

**A**

**ugust 12 th -16**

**th 2016. S**

****

**lovenia**

**Day 61**

I woke feeling heavy-hearted but ready to carry on. I knew I had missed an opportunity but I had also learned a lesson. I had two nightmares during the night, and after I woke up during the second one, I told myself that if I had a third, I would take my terror and reflect it back at the dream and thus be in control. I then got a nice dream–for a while . . . It then turned back into a nightmare and by that time I had relaxed due to the good dream, and forgotten my idea about reflecting the terror: I was not in control and the nightmare took over. The really freaky thing was that as I jerked myself awake from the nightmare, I heard myself laughing. Almost as if whatever controls my dreams was saying–'Ha ha, nice try, but I rule that domain!' Once I was awake I saw that a nice day was coming, there was a golden hue to everything. I would enter Slovenia today which excited me greatly as it was a totally new country to me.

I was tired to the core after the stress of last night, I kept finding myself wishing I was in Greece and the journey was over, I wanted the days to fly by. I was fed up with having to set up camp every night and stressing about finding a suitable place. But I knew in my core that I would not give in–no matter how much I moaned–

there was a sliver in my core that would not be moved. _It is this that sliver that allows us to do anything, and_ _we all have it-sometimes it requires a little digging, but it's there._ Once I made it to Slovenia I would be over the halfway point and that knowledge spurred me on. But even though the half way point was spurring me on, and even though the sliver in my core would not break, the loneliness in me had been fanned to flame by last night's thinking, I would have to change the way I felt inside quickly or be consumed by it. __ I did that by finding new meaning in my journey. It became a pilgrimage for me that morning, I looked back upon all the lessons I had learned already from it, and I realised that it wasn't going to get easier–it would probably get harder. It would continue to strip me of my walls and this was what hurt, but in being stripped down, I was freeing myself: In being subjected to pain I was strengthening my soul. "I will not give up." I said out loud, I saw the future and I saw that I wanted to say: I did it. I wanted to be a man of my word, completing what I set out to do.

"I will do this." I said.

The day got hotter as I walked onwards, it was definitely a great day for a swim but I wanted to wait for a bit and in doing so, I passed into Slovenia and all the way to the outskirts of Koper. There in the noon day sun, I felt it was definitely time for a swim, but it was absolutely impossible for me to get to the damn sea by then since it was a massive industrial sprawl! I had no choice but to labour onwards alongside a dusty motorway, baking in the sun's glare, wishing I had swum when I had the chance! I vowed to get lunch in the city when I finally got to it, and rest a while too. Koper city was awesome! It felt like a mini Barcelona with all the quirky little alleys and cheap food places, coloured lights, random parks and strange sights. Yes, the outside area with all its industry was shitty: Massive car factories stung the eye and smog permeated the air, but I was past all that now. I felt pretty good.

Then sum dude came up to me and offered me a biscuit. He had a massive smile across his face and he said simply; "Made with love."I was blown away, that simple sentiment was exactly what I was looking for–people who believed in love, who wanted to love everyone and to grow that love the world over. I took a biscuit and smiled hugely back. The guy then told me that he and his 'brothers' were there in Koper to spread love and to wake the people. I said that it sounded absolutely awesome, I was totally ready to find out what it was all about, I felt like I needed a higher purpose in my life and maybe these 'brothers' could show me to it. I told him that I believed in spreading love and happiness too, and that I wanted nothing more in my life than to be able to do that. He was overjoyed and I was introduced to the others.

The more I found out about them, what they believed in and what they did, the more I realised that I felt the same way. I followed them around Koper and watched as they sang and danced and gave out biscuits to people.

They were Hare Krsna monks. I had heard of them before, but never really knew what they were all about.

They invited me to come to their temple in Ljubljana–Slovenia's capital city about 120 km north-east. I was so taken with them and their wonderful ways that I said hell yes! I explained that it would take me around four days as I was walking, but they asked if I could possibly get there for Sunday since there was a big event on. I told them I would try to hitch-hike, since it was the opposite direction to my quest and so was OK. We were all smiles and hugs as we parted and I began looking for a place to hitch from with renewed vigour and spirit. I felt

that I had found the key to my happiness, all that I was missing in my life was suddenly available, all the uncertainty, the worry, the fact that I didn't fit anywhere would all be a thing of the past. I had found my God. I didn't thank the universe.

It turned out that hitching from Koper was very hard indeed and after a couple of hours on the corner of the entrance to the motorway, I gave up, instead taking a man's shouted advice: "Go to the bus stop, its very cheap!" I found the bus stop and asked around for what bus I needed, the bus drivers were none too friendly but I eventually got the information I needed and sat down to wait. After half an hour I was on the bus to the capital city and salvation. I felt light-headed, like I was on the cusp of the greatest experience of my life. I was so ready for something bigger than myself, I was ready to be saved. There was a grin on my face that I just couldn't shake off. I had often thought about becoming a monk, and now, I was actually on the way to do so. It felt just like when I first started doing Parkour about 8 years ago–like I had suddenly been given a big green light to do exactly what I really wanted to do, what I had wanted to do for almost 13 years: love. I wanted to pour out my love into the world, I wanted to be free from greed and corruption in a pure environment. I had imagined that this would be in a hippy community of some kind, but as I discovered on my last trip to New Zealand–they too, are often corrupted by drugs or money or sex: They begin with a pure ideal and soon succumb to temptations.

But I wasn't totally star-struck, I knew that there was a chance it would still not be right for me, I knew that I may well get there, look into it and feel that it's wrong or it's at odds with my soul in some way, but deep down, I was pretty damn certain that this was my salvation and what I had searched for all this time. What was funny to me, was that I had searched for religion so many times in the past and never found anything about the Hare Krsna's at all, I never even knew it was an option. I had looked into religions many times before and all different types, it seemed to me that they all ended with dogma, corruption or control. I had always looked for it when I felt lost but this time it felt so different, like falling in love again, it always feels like the right time–

every time. This time it's the one, I knew it.

I arrived in the capital city around 7pm, it was absolutely humongous but looked nice enough. The bus took me all the way to the central rail station where I got a map and directions to the temple. I arrived there about half an hour later. It was an unimposing building down a very plain street on the cheaper side of town. There was a statue of some dude in front, I had no idea who he was. I went in and was met with empty silence. No one was in the first area. I went through and into a courtyard place, there was a girl sweeping leaves there and I introduced myself. She was very nice and showed me to the temple itself. I was bade to take off my shoes and then ushered in. The room was relatively small, wood panelled and warm. About 15 males and three females were seated on the floor upon thin cushions, they were listening to the speaker who sat in a kind of, low wooden throne-like chair on the other side of the room. A few looked my way as I scooched as quickly and as quietly into the room as I could and joined them, they smiled and I grinned back. I had a brief look about me, noticing the paintings on the walls and the two dioramas at either end of the hall: One, showed five holy-looking figures in some sort of rapture and the other, showed a kindly looking old man on a dais. I then zoned in on the words of the speaker as much as I could.

He spoke about greed demons–of all things! Much of what he said resonated with me and what I had literally just been through. I wanted to ask questions and to add my thoughts, but I felt it a little too soon to be so outspoken and preferred instead, to absorb. After the lecture I met a young, timid-looking monk called Timothy. He told me his story of arriving at the temple, how he smoked weed whenever he wasn't there and how he kept coming back to try and stop. He was really nice and he asked the head guys there if I could crash at the temple that night. They said that I could not–for some reason–and so I decided to rough it, there was no way I was going to find a place to camp in the city! Luckily, just outside on the road opposite were two wheelie bins, next to them someone had thoughtfully discarded a corner couch and I knew I had found 'camp.' I was told that I could come back into the temple at five the next morning so I turned to couch to face the wall, wedged my back tight into the gap and curled up on the couch. It was pretty comfy, but cold. I was fine though–all I thought about was going back to the temple in the morning, I was capable of anything in order to have that honour.

**Day 62**

As you have probably guessed: Sleep did not come easily that night! At one point, a bike hit my sofa and then I came to as a couple of people tried to carry the sofa off before noticing me upon it! They soon fled. Then a cat

decided that under my sofa was the perfect place to take the stinkiest dump in the fucking world, It was unbelievable but what could I do? Then it got absolutely freezing and finally, I got mega hungry since I had been awake all night. But I still felt good–it was a challenge to me. I wandered to the temple doors and looked in–all was still and quiet, it must have been too early. A couple of lights came on, I hoped I hadn't woken somebody . . . I heard taps running and things, then the lights went out and silence returned. I wandered the road for a while and then returned. This time there was an old man with a lazy eye in the reception room, he saw me and came to open the door. I sheepishly thanked him, the clock on the wall told me it was 3.45AM, I _really_ hoped I hadn't woken him up! He seemed OK though, and led me to a bench inside where it was warmer, there I rested until 5am.

At 5am I was then taken into the temple once more. White and orange-clad monks filed into the temple as I did. Timothy was not there, but another monk whom I did not yet know whispered that I could join in or sit apart as I wished. I decided to join in. we stood and faced the diorama of the five celestial figures. The monks then began to chant, but it was a kind of sing-song chanting and I quickly took it up. They also began to dance ecstatically. I moved along with them and chanted too, it felt very strange a thing to do: I had never been involved in any group worshipping before, especially of this, very active kind. After a while I began to feel that it didn't matter so much what I thought–it was a happy moment in which I could throw my inhibitions aside and proclaim my happiness to be alive through dance and singing as they did. It felt good to dance–it was liberating–but chanting a God's name who I knew nothing about yet seemed a bit wrong to me, I did it, but there were many questions in my head, I needed to know more about this Krsna dude before I could spout his name in rapture. Otherwise I would be meagerly a sheep. It was a wonderful way to energise and start the day though! After the dancing and chanting was through, there began a series of rituals: I was offered a sweet nectar which was spooned into my palm which then I supped off, then I placed water onto the roots of a plant and finally, warm oil onto an idols head. I was then told that I should rest a while before breakfast at 7.30.

I ended up sleeping until eight, where upon I was invited again into the temple where another lecture was about to begin. As before, we left our shoes outside and sat on the floor cushions. The speaker sat in the low throne again opposite us all and began. He took us through some verses from a holy book–the 'Bhagavad gita.'

It was a story in which some king realises that one of his palanquin bearers is a spiritually enlightened one and he asks to become his disciple. All the time as I was listening I had one underlying worry–what if I was wrong and this was not the truth? But the lecture was pretty cool. Afterwards, we prepared to go out into the city and chant the holy name among the people. I showered (wow!) and was then dressed in the traditional Indian 'Gita'

by my closest friend here (the biscuit guy), who had returned met me in the morning ceremony earlier. He applied traditional clay markings upon my face and body and then declared me ready to join them. The temple organiser saw me and went bright red, he spoke rapidly to my friend and I sensed much anger, my friend looked humbled and embarrassed. I was pointed at, and I gathered that I was definitely _not_ supposed to be wearing what I was wearing. I apologised to the head dude and my friend for causing trouble. I was upset that my friend was now in trouble because of me . . . He told me it was OK, but that apparently, only a 'devoted one' can wear the Gita. I was offered some clothing 'more fitting' to a new monk, namely: A pair of loose cotton trousers and a cheese-cloth shirt of many colours, and then the mission began.

We filed from the building, around 10 of us, eight or so guys and a couple of girls, and we headed towards the central area. The monk at the lead had an accordion and a microphone through which he sang as he played.

Whatever he sang, we then repeated. It turned out to be a two-line repeated chant:

Hare kr ṛs ṛn ṛa hare kr ṛs ṛn ṛa, kr ṛs ṛn ṛa kr ṛs ṛn ṛa hare hare.

Hare rāma hare rāma, rāma rāma hare hare.

The pitch and rhythm was changed to vary it, but it was always those two lines. They form the Krsna mantra which the monks believe Krsna taught the human race, as the best way to worship him and spread his love. We travelled through the park, singing away with happy smiles on our faces, I was a total pro at it, having had tons of experience already, spreading love and happiness among total strangers when busking. T _hat's my key_ _philosophy when busking: spread my happiness and love, try to make people smile and if they want to give me_ _money or food in return so that I could continue, then that was fine and I was thankful._ So I sang and I smiled and I waved. We were received as a side-show act pretty much. People would snap us on their phones and giggle to each other, some people would smile and wave back, others would turn their faces in annoyance.

Some happy few would actually join in with our dancing and have fun–mainly kids. We walked through the

centre of town, stopping at key places. While we danced and chanted, a couple of monks would be to the sides giving out biscuits or selling books. I decided to pull the book cart along to help out too. It was mega hot and I wasn't used to wearing a shirt, I was mega tired too so when we finally made our way back to the temple, I was very grateful–it felt like we were at it for hours!

We got back in time for lunch so in fact we could it was only two hours. It felt really good doing it though, I didn't feel fake about it–not entirely anyway. I felt a _little_ fake since I didn't know anything at all about Krsna, yet there I was, chanting his name as if it meant everything to me. There were a couple of points where I wondered: 'Can I see myself doing this my whole life?' And I realised that–yes I could! After all: The alternatives seem to destroy my love and happiness (live in society, work etc. etc.), this was the opposite, they would be nurtured. Lunch was bloody incredible, it was blessed food apparently, the chefs cook it whilst listening to the mantra and meditating on Krsna, wow! My stomach felt strange though, it had done since I first arrived at the temple, perhaps I had eaten something bad a couple of days ago? The monks agreed that I should stay a few days more. C'est la vie I said. I felt that I would be happy to stay some more, who knows–maybe I would stay there for good and forego my journey? My journey was always deep down a quest for answers, perhaps I had found them, so why continue?

Between lunch and dinner I chatted to as many different monks as I could, asking their stories and trying to find out the basics of their religion. The day flew by as I met all the characters and discovered more and more about Krsna. Soon it was time for dinner which to my absolute delight, I discovered could be eaten with my fingers–in fact, it was encouraged, since it meant I could appreciate the texture of the food more, and therefore appreciate the food more! It was like telling a kid they can do whatever they want, I loved every second! While seated, I got to question the monks around me in more depth. I was looking for specific answers: Who was Krsna exactly? What was their version of the creation story? What links were there between Krsna and

Hinduism? Did it fit with what I believed in and what I had been experiencing up to now? The answers that I received astonished me, my philosophies and beliefs were identical! It was crazy but, all I had ever wanted was to live in a place where everyone truly loves one another and the world, living off the land without destroying it, helping each other and being at peace–the temple fitted that ideal! The monks descriptions of Krsna were also a perfect match with what I had called: 'The Universe' up to then, so I decided to ask the universe/Krsna for something, I asked:

'If, what I have believed up to now as 'the universe,' is in fact Krsna, and has always been Krsna, then prove it to me.'

The universe/Krsna knows me, it knows what will convince me and so I felt confident of receiving an answer in whatever form it would come. I was then ushered to the library by a very excited monk who had found me an English copy of their holy text, 'The Bhagavad gita, as it is'. The very same that was read from in the lecture earlier. This was fantastic, I began reading straight away. I felt very open, all my other feelings felt far away and unimportant, I still harboured a degree of scepticism, but also there was hope, but that was far away too, as if in a dream. This could be the answer to everything for me I felt. It could also not be, or it could even be too scary for me: Too much for me to take in. I was prepared to find out and so I asked two further things of the universe/Krsna:

1 – If I was to learn more and become a monk, then give me the opportunity to do so.

2 – Show me. Come to me and reveal yourself in reality or a dream.

Many monks and people that were visiting the temple noticed me quietly studying at my table and they came over to join me. I questioned each in turn, I never felt like I got a 'wrong' answer or an answer that I did not resonate with, but I still felt a fear deep inside of me. That fear of: What if I was wrong. I just couldn't shake it.

I began to think that I must have been sleep deprived, since I was starting to see and hear things . . . The temple was always full of the sound of monks chanting the Krsna mantra but now it was in my head too, constantly. It was very strange, maybe that was _why_ the monks chanted it all over the temple? But the hallucinations? I had seen people that weren't there, on the edge of my vision, nothing much really but enough that I noticed it. What was going on? I would have loved to say that I was experiencing an awakening of conciousness, but I felt so fake even _Thinking_ like that so I continued to read. The head monk then came to me and sat down. I questioned him too and he answered as best his English would allow. He had brought me a book which he then gave to me, it was called 'The Journey Home,' and he said it was like 'an aperitif' to the Bhagavad gita. He told me that I

should read it before continuing on that. I took his advice, putting the Bhagavad gita aside and opening 'The Journey Home.' I got to chapter four and then had to put it down for a bit–I felt so much sadness, the huge spiritual leap of faith that the protagonist was taking in the book when he left Irene, had left me undone. A leap of faith that I felt poised to take.

_It was very like the feeling I had got on the top of a cliff in Spain, where I had stood on the very edge,_ _watching the sea below, trying to ascertain if there were rocks or not. I stood for about 20 minutes up there. I_ _kept picturing stepping off and then either living or dying . . . Eventually, the picture became a reality and I_ _realised that I was falling–I screamed before I hit the water because I still didn't know if there were rocks_ _waiting there or not . . ._

In the end, I went outside of the temple onto my corner couch by the bins. There I played my harmonica wistfully, both for me and for the author of 'The Journey Home.' There was an odd sounding ring to all of the notes that I played that I had never heard before come from that instrument, I felt moved for a while. Then I stopped. I could hear Slovenian voices coming from the buildings all around me and they kept saying: Hare Krsna, Hare Krsna–almost every word–Honestly. Was I hearing things again? I truly didn't know what to think.

I ran back into the temple and sat back at my table surrounded by monks. I had to carry on reading. I needed to know. I read and read and soon I was really hungry again. I grabbed some left overs and then read some more.

The book was amazing, I realised that the main thing that was causing me–not to doubt __ my _beliefs_ , but to doubt that I _could_ believe–was a question of rules and control. I believe firmly in always acting from my heart and not doing something because, I am told that it is the right way or whatever. I had noticed for example, that the monks there showered every morning because they believed, that being clean was more respectful towards god when at the temple. They also all showered in the Indian way: While wearing a cloth on the lower half of their bodies. I didn't want to _have_ to do that, I wanted to be able to choose? Another example was: They chanted Hare Krsna all the blinking time! They even said it instead of hello or goodbye etc. etc. I didn't want to chant it just because everyone else did–I wanted to worship in any way that I felt was right. I began thinking that I would stay until tomorrow, take part in the special Sunday feast thing and ask some more questions, then leave Monday or Sunday night, staying in the train station until morning if I had to. I really loved the philosophy of the Hare Krsna monks, but I could see restraints everywhere and that scared me.

I was told that I had somewhere to sleep for the night instead of my corner-couch cat-park, in fact–I had a bed!

That was a good thing. I was led outside into the twilight, it was almost night already, the day had gone so fast!

We went up the road a little and there, by some bins we picked up my mattress lol! This we took into a small block of flats above a restaurant, through a small wooden door marked with a picture of Krsna, and into the tiny room beyond. Inside sat an ancient old man at a small wooden dining table in the kitchen/entrance room. He was rubbing some kind of fatty oil into his chapped legs. He looked up and smiled, pointing to a door on the right, we went through and deposited the mattress on the floor. The other monk told me that the old man was like the 'grandfather' of the temple, and he looked after all the new devotees. He then left and I was alone with the old man. I tried to chat but he spoke as much English as I spoke Slovenian so we degenerated into hand gestures, he seemed pretty cool. I put my stuff down next to the mattress and began to prepare for bed. The old dude came in after he had completed his oiling and began rifling through a cupboard, producing a sheet and blanket which he playfully threw at me. He pointed to my bed and I began to make it. He then pointed to my top and I got the gist that he was telling me to take it off for bed. I did so–I always do anyway before bed–but I felt very uncomfortable: Was I subject to some strange perversion now _(a typical response of my western,_ _indoctrinated mind . . .),_ would I be asked to remove more _?_ Yup–he then pointed to my trousers and so I removed them too. 'Oh god, oh god please don't be a crazy old man pervert,' I thought. But that was it, he turned around and got into his bed, I got into mine (breathing a sigh of relief) and we slept.

**Day 63**

I couldn't get up in time to attend the morning thing, but I still got up early–6am. I went to the temple and continued reading as I really wanted to finish the book. I read loads, and got some seriously good revelations from it. I also spoke to many people during the day about god. Many monks and interested people came to the centre today since it was Sunday feast day, the temple was totally full at the midday lecture, which I attended but found to be quite dull: It was simply some dude re-telling the beginning of the Bhagavad gita. I didn't go to the services afterwards, I was too intent on finishing the book (I had less that 80 pages to go by that point), and

talking with as many people as I could. One guy showed me a map of Croatia and eagerly told me of the places he felt I should visit, another told me many jokes–all with religious connotations, another spoke of his travels.

Many had heard of my arrival at the temple as 'the guy who was walking alone from England to Greece.' That made me feel like I was on a good path–if people were interested in what I was doing and wanted to meet me and hear more, then I had a gift I could give to them: My love, respect and attention, I could listen to their stories too. I learned so much in the temple that day, I felt like a seed had been planted in my soul and I looked forward to watching it grow.

Dinner was a fantastic feast of rice, vegetables, curry, lentils, fruit and breads yum! I found myself sat at a long table with seven other monks and visitors, I ended up chatting with them all and explaining about my battles previously with my greed demon, I asked them if anyone else had experienced similar troubles. One guy laughed and said: "Of course, we're only human!" That made me feel better, like I wasn't a bad person for having demons, like I wasn't alone. Later on I was chatting to a visitor who asked me what the purpose of human life is. I explained what I believe: That our purpose is to experience, enjoy and give back in return.

_We have the most advanced conciousness on the planet (or so we can tell at the moment). This conciousness_ _allows us to contemplate and to ask questions that are bigger than us. It also allows us to think about_ _ourselves, others and the things around us, in abstract ways. We are one of the few beings upon the Earth_ _(possibly the only one in fact) that is aware of the planet's beauty. We experience emotions within a context of_ _understanding, rather than just being led by them and our instincts. We can choose our actions. The world is a_ _perfect place, but it requires imperfection to do two things: Juxtapose that perfection (otherwise perfect would_ _not exist), and appreciate that perfection. **We** are the imperfection which balances the perfection of the World–_

_We can appreciate it's awesome beauty and we can give back, in return–our happiness at being alive and at_ _experiencing such things. I believe that is why we are here._

The monk told me that I was totally wrong, that our entire purpose on this planet is to prepare for death!

I asked him: "What if you're wrong?"

He told me: "If I am wrong, then you and others that don't strive to love god and prepare for death have lived a life that you may, or may not have enjoyed. I have enjoyed my life either way"

It sounded very good at the time, it basically means that there is no wrong or right, as long as you live from the heart, doing what you feel is right. Now, looking back upon it I see a flaw: It is grasping. He is living for a future and not right now, this means that he believes the future will be a certain way, he has to, otherwise his life is a sham. What if he is wrong? I suppose it still doesn't really matter at the end of the day, as long as he has his belief to drive him, but I still prefer living in open acceptance of the now, not the future and not the past.

But then, that, ultimately is also a belief!

I also learned today, that fear holds us back and makes us weak. I fear religion because I was brought up in a capitalist society with no great love for spirituality. I hated any form of control. My mothers side of the family turned to Jehovah's witnesses when I was around five, I loved them dearly and I couldn't understand why–all of a sudden–we didn't see them anymore. I found out later that it was due to their religion. These factors all meant that religion became something that I was afraid of, I didn't like it at all and for a long time I was an atheist.

When I started to really think, I realised that there had to be more, and ever since I have been agnostic. Now perhaps, a door was opening and I would know the name and nature of god? Or not! I planned to leave the centre on the morrow and make my way back to Koper, where I would continue my journey to Greece. I would be watering those spiritual seeds that had been planted, I would watch them grow with care and love. I returned then to the old man's house above the restaurant to sleep. He said something about, two hours to sleep? I wasn't sure whether he meant that he had waited up for me for two hours, or whether he would not be sleeping for two hours or what, I just went to bed anyway, I was knackered!

**Day 64**

I slept well. The old man was up at 3am as before and woke me (I'm a very light sleeper). Because I was then awake, I needed to pee. I really didn't want to go while the old dude was in, because then he might try and get me to come to the temple with him and do the really early session . . . It was bad I know, but I wanted to sleep more! I managed to hold it until he left, relieved myself and then went back to sleep. I got up at seven in the

end, went to the centre and took a dump, I'm telling you this since it resulted in the toilet clogging up! To my dismay, my attempts to use a stick to clear the blockage proved unsuccessful, it only spread the muck throughout the water, making it all a very filthy deep brown which was now up to the lip of the bowl. I was panicking by then, how could I tell anyone? It would only mean that someone else would have to come in and sort a problem caused by my crap. No, I had to sort this one myself. I did what I had to do: I plunged my arm in right up to the elbow and felt for the turd which was blocking the flow. I did it! Thank God! It felt weird saying that now–'God,' and having a glimmer of understanding and hope. I felt a tingle inside me as I wondered, is it really possible?

Once I had cleaned up I prepared to leave the centre and its devotees, deciding that I would fast for the day in their honour. First however, I attended the morning programme at eight in the temple after finally finishing the book. I didn't read the very last few pages as it began to focus upon finding his guru, rather than finding God which I felt, was not something I was worried about–Yet. I said goodbye to everyone that I could and then, just as I was about to leave, a monk came to me saying that a very special person was coming to give a lecture, and that I shouldn't miss it. I couldn't speak. I now had a choice . . . Eventually I told him that I couldn't say what I will, or will not do. Instead, I grabbed my meditation beads which I had been given and found a quiet corner to sit and meditate in. After an hour or so I finished meditating ( _Very long time for me!)_ and went into the room in which I had stored all of my gear ready for leaving. I decided to sit and write for a little while in there and see if a sign as to what to do would come.

An open window was to my right, wide and inviting and a big part of me longed to pick up my bag and climb out of it to freedom, then a devotee came into the room and told me that a bunch of them were just about to leave for swimming at a big lake, did I want to come with them? WTF?! They would not return until about 6pm, now I had three damn choices! What to do? I continued to write. Then another devotee came in and then left again shutting the door after him, this effectively cut me off from the lake crew so I was pretty much saved from that choice, I decided to wait a little more and then use the window when the coast was clear. I found a golden figure of a T-rex in plastic, he had a huge smile on his face and was laughing with innocent mirth at my predicament. After a few minutes I decided to make my move and as I was hoisting my pack onto my shoulders yet another devotee entered. He asked me if I was going, to which I replied that I was. He asked me where I was headed. Koper I said. He told me that he was just about to drive there himself and asked if I wanted a lift?

Thank you! It was my way out, the decision had been made. Within an hour we were driving together south-west, back to Koper.

On the way we spoke of God, he answered all of my questions and it was good. My fast was going well too–I didn't feel hungry yet. He dropped me off in Koper and as he left he told me that usually, he has at least four people in the car with him on that journey, that was literally the first time that he hadn't, and he said that he believed it was so we could talk privately the way we had. What an extraordinary set of coincidences that had transpired to create that car journey–I believe that he was probably right! After he had gone, I looked about me, I found my way back to the exact spot where I had first met the monks, where I had been offered the biscuit, it was at a fountain in a square. I washed my hands in the fountain and took a deep breath. It felt a little strange to be back alone and on the road again, but I was ready. I continued. I was surrounded by shops, bars, restaurants and stalls, the smell of food, the lure of temptation was everywhere. In the temple, fasting was so easy but there

. . . I was assaulted. In the end I said to my demons: 'I will not indulge you. _I_ am in my body and _I_ am fasting. I am also walking and thus I need to keep my body fuelled and healthy, thus when I am definitely hungry, _I_ will feed it what it needs, until then I will not listen.' It worked! I heard no more pleas, felt no more urges.

I walked from Koper to Isola, a cool peninsula town with nice beaches all around it. I had a little swim and sorted through my kit, binning some excess things like a water bottle, spare pants, condoms, chewing gum, sugar sachets, cleaning wipes and tissues. All non-essential stuff! I also ditched my day sack and my filthy, neon-yellow vest, since it was too small for me really–the shoulder material wasn't wide enough to protect my skin from the straps of my rucksack and besides, I was now wearing the cheesecloth shirt 'of many colours'

which the monks had given me (it was indeed many colours, all were horrible), I had torn off the arms so it was now a vest but it was perfect! _(Or so I thought . . . I wore it from that day forward, but it wasn't until ages down_ _the line when I finally saw myself in a mirror again, that I saw the problem: The shirt hung down way too low,_ _so low that it completely covered my short-shorts, the effect being–that it looked as though I had no short-shorts on at all, or anything else for that matter! It meant that I looked like a flasher or something!)_

I finally felt the gnaw of hunger as I left Isola, I felt that I had endured enough since it was now about 6pm and so I told myself, I will eat at the the next cheap place or good bin that I come across. I then found a single warm chip on the ground . . . Very funny Krsna! I ate it though. But then I found more: A sandwich, a red pepper, another sandwich and finally, some caramel bars, all of which I found in the bins that I passed upon the cliffs and westwards. The path then came down from the cliffs and onto the beach once more, and so I had another nice swim. I lit a cigarette but I threw it away after just a few puffs–it suddenly felt very wrong to me. I felt that everything I did to my body, God feels too since he is in us all. I felt like I had hurt God and so I apologised. I then continued along the beach toward the falling sun. I got to Piran after negotiating some gorgeous rocky beaches filled with nudists :)

At Piran, I went up to the church which overlooks the town and the seas. I felt very strongly like I had been there before, but that was impossible, this was my first time in Slovenia . . . I found out from a tourist, that the time was 7:15 already! Where the hell had the day gone?! I got an impulse to stay there at the church and watch the sun go down, sleeping on the bench nearby. So I ate some muesli upon the walls and I waited. Then every single part of my subconscious begged and screamed at me to leave, telling me that if we left, I could find tons of lovely food en-route in a town like that. It also told me that the bench would be cold and hard etc. After that I couldn't find my peace, I tried to meditate but failed, I tried to read but couldn't. It was so hard just to stay there but I did. Maybe it was because my western mind was so torn–I come from a place of comfort and abundance, where God is no longer necessary and all of a sudden, God was coming into my life and telling me not to smoke, that I could do it, that I was just a mind and that the past didn't matter. But I didn't feel worthy, I still felt like I had such a long way to go mentally. Then a really nice woman approached me and showed me a photo that she had just taken of me as I sat on the wall, the sun was setting behind me and I was silhouetted–it was awesome! I took her facebook details and she promised to send the pic to me one day. It was weird cos I was still hearing 'Hare Krsna' chanted in my head from my time in the temple. In the end I had to move from the church, there were just too many tourists milling about and I couldn't see myself sleeping there anytime soon, so I hoisted my pack and walked down into the beautiful, maze-like streets of Piran.

I found some good brown bread in a bin I passed, but there was nowhere to sleep or to camp in Piran and so I continued on through. I wasn't worried at all, I knew that I would find somewhere eventually, or simply crash on a bench or something, besides–it was nice to explore a place at night, I wasn't usually able to do it on this journey. Piran turned into Portoroz, a massively touristic waterfront resort, full of amazing hotels, shops and night life. _If you like hotels and beaches etc. then Portoroz is the place to come. If you are travelling with a_ _rucksack and looking to sleep or camp somewhere, it's definitely not!_ I found nowhere to camp at all, in the end, as I contemplated sleeping between some upturned deckchairs on a hotel's lawn, I felt that camp was nearby. I found it next to a stack of windsurfing boards and a car park fence–I simply put my bag by the fence, my sleeping bag on the ground and I lay out upon that–it was far too hot to get in the sleeping bag that evening.

At about 11, between the live music that was going on in the hotels around me, I drifted off to sleep, I didn't even care about the bugs or the mosquito's anymore.

I was awoken In the darkness later on by water on my face–Rain! Shit! Literally the one time I had decided not to put the tarp up and it rains in the night! I couldn't set anything I could use and so I prepared to get wet, then I noticed the stack of windsurfing boards next to me and I got an idea: They were stacked in a rack which created a small gap between each level, a gap that was just big enough for me to squeeze into! Quickly I slithered sideways onto the bottom board and positioned the two boards above in order to maximise how much they covered me. It was perfect! True, I couldn't turn on my side and so I was forced to stay on my back, I also couldn't move left or right because if I did I would get rained on, and yes, the car park attendants heard me manoeuvring and came out with torches looking for me, but aside from that, I was dry! I drifted off again.

**A**

**ugust 16 th -S**

**epember 9 th 2016. C**

****

**roatia**

**Day 65**

I woke up at just gone six I reckoned, and I felt good. I was mosquito bitten but I did it–I had slept upon the hard ground and got a good nights rest (not factoring the rain!). I walked on and hit up the bins as I did for breakfast. It was so damn easy in touristic areas such as that, to live from bins! After a half hour's walk I ended up with: Half a pizza, chocolate, coke, bread, strawberry water and some crepes, as well as finding around a gram of weed in a box at a pay phone! It was pretty much 'Hakuna mattata' lol! As I was wandering I began to wonder: The western world appears to be very 'sensory craving,' it's pretty much all we do, whereas the eastern side shows a lot more 'spiritual craving.' I wondered if those types of craving were in fact, two sides of the same coin? What if in sensory satisfaction you could praise and thank God, just like in spiritual satisfaction? Surely satisfaction, happiness and thankfulness are the keys here, and they appear through both of the methods (not enough thankfulness yet though in my opinion). Perhaps, I thought, the eastern and the western philosophies are like a yin-yang? Take a look at how both eastern and western people, long for the opposite side's philosophy: People come west in search of material things or money, people head east in search of spiritual awakening.

Perhaps I needed to accept my own life more and find balance somewhere within? Perhaps I could replace my greed with satisfaction, not taking selfishly, but accepting graciously. Perhaps I could find loving thankfulness for all the things I _do_ have, rather than find disappointment in the things I don't, and change any jealousy harboured, into generosity. Perhaps, I mused, these are the things that seekers of sensory pleasures can do in order to praise and please God? And by doing this knowingly, could they not then, attain spiritual fulfilment too? Perhaps that is not so wrong? Perhaps we can live like we are but just–better. It felt good to me. It gave me options.

I continued along the coast and past a little camp site. There I saw a tent all on it's lonesome at the back corner, it had a pair of male walking boots outside and I decided, that I had discovered the receiver of the weed that I had found. I didn't want to holler and wake him as it was still quite early but also, his tent was about 10 feet away so I couldn't just put it outside. In the end I decided to roll it! The weed was in a little round metal container, like the kind some hair gels come in. It would roll well, but it would have to be one sweet shot. I sent it through the fence and rolling down towards the tent. The universe must have agreed with my choice because it rolled right into the entrance of the tent and propped itself to rest with a little ding, on the entrance pole.

Wow–absolutely perfect! As I walked off I wondered what he would think when he woke up later and found that . . . I only hoped he liked to smoke! As I continued, I reminded myself that I was not going to actively seek food unless I was hungry, but also–that I was allowed to pick up any food that I came across en-route. I arrived at some kind of salt flats next, which were just before the Croatian boarder. There I met a lovely Irish woman on her bike–Moyra. We chatted for a while and then she just straight up gave me a 20E note! She said I was cool and that I should get myself a good meal or two! So sweet of her :) I continued into the baking sun and across the boarder . . .

I was stopped at the boarder but nothing out of the ordinary. After that I crossed into Croatia and did a little jig for joy. I then walked up a very steep hill and the sea disappeared from my view. I stopped in a cafe where I changed some Euros I had, up into Krona and had a cup of tea and a rest. I then began my trek through Croatia proper and soon discovered that I was now about 20km from the coast and any chance of swimming. Nooooo! I was now faced with a dilemma: Continue south-east and hope to find the coast again at some point, or head south-west and get to the coast quick, but extend overall journey time. I decided to get to the coast asap since it was so blinking hot! It meant that I had to off-road it for a while through the copious olive groves. It was beautiful–short trees and shrubs dominated the ecosystem, the browny-orange soil crunched pleasingly

underfoot when it was not covered with the tall, soft grasses abundant there. The sun lanced in through the low canopy, birds chirped and crickets vibrated all over the place. Although it was downright gorgeous, I soon found out that it was also pretty damn inhospitable–almost every single plant or bush or tree had sharp thorns!

By the time I had made it out the other side and crossed the motorway I was laced with cuts and scratches, sweat and grime, but I was happy.

I then had to forge my own path again, up a hill through more dense bush. I at last came upon a road which was headed in the direction I wanted and so I followed it for a while. It ended at a farmstead and a dead end–

Shit! I turned and retraced my steps along the road back towards the motorway, cursing my luck and the waste

of the last hour, then a bin lorry came past me on its way to the farmstead–The very same bin lorry that I had passed about three hours earlier, before I went off into the olive groves! They probably wondered how the hell I had got there before they had! They smiled and waved at me as they passed. Five minutes later and they came back the other way, beeping like crazy at me! One guy leaned out the window and signalled to the back of the lorry–they wanted me to hop on! I wasn't going to pass up such a unique opportunity, and since I was also retracing steps I felt it was acceptable. Man it was fun! I held to the ladder and stood on a small platform howling with delight as we sped through the countryside. They were laughing like crazy and giving me the thumbs up as they dropped me on the junction before the main road. I hopped off and waved em goodbye with a massive grin on my face. Thanks!!!

I had absolutely no idea where I was by then, but I believed the sea to be west of me and so I headed south-west. It took hours to negotiate my way along the tiny roads between the tiny villages. It was roasting but I was used to it, I kept my head down, kept my breathing regular and drank water as I needed. I was totally knackered by the time I came to San Lorenzo, and finally caught the tell-tale sparkle of my old blue friend. I quickly found a great place to swim and got straight in there! I then dried myself and relaxed for a while. I felt that I had delt with hunger a lot during the past two days and I had a new appreciation and understanding of it. I knew now that I could deal with it's pangs and it's pains, I was no longer afraid of it! I was down to my emergency stash of muesli and it felt great. I now got hungry and _then_ I allowed myself to look for food. It meant that I was no longer controlled by the acquisition of it. Earlier, as I was making my way to the beach, God had given me a whole half watermelon from a bin–wrapped and everything! So I scoffed that on the beach in the sun and was full. I was really enjoying the journey now. Just walk, eat, rest, drink, swim. It was so easy and so good. Thank you (I said that about a million times)!

Now that I was at the sea I was no longer lost, which was another good thing and when I was rested, I followed the coast south. I came next to Novigrad which was a very nice place. I found out that it was 6.30pm–I thought it was more like three! whoops! I decided to eat since I was hungry and since I had not found anything, I chose to get a pizza from a local place–Yum! It was so good :) I then went on a quest to find camp for the night. I found a stone quarry just outside of town and wandered that looking for camp, but there was nowhere suitable. I was accosted by the security guard there and his dog, but they were both really friendly and after I had explained what I was doing there, they took me back to where I had got in and waved me goodbye. It meant however, that dark was now setting in and I still had nowhere to camp up. Luckily though, I had seen a great looking camp earlier, on my way to the quarry–I hadn't stopped there at the time as I felt it was still a little too early, but now the time was perfect–I needed a camp! It was under the thick, low-hanging branches of a big old fir tree in a hospital car park. There in a semi-circle, completely hidden from view yet in a very public place, I lay my hammock on the ground and made my camp. Fir trees are amazing for camps, like a natural little hut! It was warm and dry and cosy, sleep came very quickly that night.

**Day 66**

Wonderful sleep! I had totally gotten used to sleeping on the ground, in fact I now preferred it to sleeping above ground in the hammock! It was a gorgeous morning. I discarded my travel towel which I had spent 20

quid on before I left, but never used at all and I picked up the trail where I had left off, soon passing the stone quarry from before, then going across a big bridge into the town of Tar. Tar was a nice little old town that felt very local and hidden away. I got water there and some lovely bread and yoghurt from a little bakery and then popped into an info kiosk to see about getting a phone card to call home. Damn lucky that I did because the kiosk also had maps–the maps showed me that I was on a peninsula (the whole Istra region was), and that if I went any other direction save for east from Tar, I would arrive at a dead end and have to add about four days travel to my journey. It wasn't all that bad a thing really, since I was having such a great time now and feeling so in control, I just felt that since there was still so much of Croatia left to do, I didn't want to dally.

So I decided to strike out east but first, I called my parents. They were very happy to hear from me but were also very worried. I told them about my short-shorts and my time in the monastery, but I could still hear that they were worried. It made me feel torn: I wanted to do my thing and complete the quest, but knowing that doing so was causing my parents to lose sleep–literally, made me feel so bad. I would just have to complete it asap, which reaffirmed my decision to cut east. I left the main road and began following my compass. It took me out into the sticks where the heat washed over and into me, after an hour I realised that heading this way meant that I was leaving the sea far behind for a good few days, could I cope as the heat got worse? As well as

heading further south into the heat, it was also heading more into the height of summer, it would get hotter still .

. . Gruelling. I stopped for lunch another hour after that. My feet hurt again.

The Croatian countryside was truly wonderful and in many places, I was totally alone for long periods of time, seeing not a single car or passer by on the road. Little lilac butterflies flitted beside me and offered me company, along with the calling birds in the trees. I walked and walked for hours along the road, got lost a few times and asked for directions, eventually I found myself where I wanted to be: On the number 48 road to Pazin and beyond. I ate a plum from a tree that looked good and some blackberries, the tree was full of plums, I couldn't understand why no one had harvested them, they were all over the road being eaten by none but the flies. two minutes later I threw it all back up . . . perhaps there was a reason no one had harvested the plums all along. I didn't feel too bad though, and continued quickly on. I stopped a little later just to confirm directions at a country house I passed, The weirdest guy came to the door with his dog by his side, his blonde hair was cut closely and starkly and his face was very angular, his lips were tightly shut and it looked like he was pissed off.

His dog barked as he gave me directions and then to my shock, he whipped it hard in order to quieten the poor animal. I looked into his eyes and saw a cold darkness, I felt him to be the very embodiment of evil, I do believe he enjoyed hurting that dog, the more so because it distressed me too. I walked away numbly without understanding a word of what he had said. Eventually I began to near Pazin and so I started to look for camp before I got too close. I ended up on a piece of ground just off the road, behind some bushes. There were no trees for me to string my tarp or hammock, but I was too tired to walk anymore and that was the best place I had found for ages–at least it was hidden, I just hoped that it wouldn't rain, it looked like it was going to . . .

A little later, as I lay in my hammock with trepidation as to what the night would bring, thunder boomed across the sky. The rain started softly at first and I wrapped the hammock around me to try and keep the rain out. I was lying on top of the sleeping bag rather than in it, so as to protect that from the rain too. I hoped to weather the storm and then sleep in a dry bag afterwards. I hoped that I would let up–it didn't, it got worse. The wet began to seep through the hammock which was not at all waterproof after a bit, it seeped in and it kept on seeping in until I was absolutely soaked, it didn't stop for a very long time, until I was cold, shivering and miserable. I think I may have snatched a few minutes of sleep here and there but every now and again, fat drips of frigid water would roll down my skin and shock me to conciousness. I had done enough to ensure that the sleeping bag was not too bad though, and I got in as soon as the rain had definitely stopped. I soon warmed up and luckily it didn't rain anymore, I finally got some sleep.

**Day 67**

I got up as soon as I saw the sun, luckily it was a really sunny morning, so I took all my soaked gear across the road and laid it out on some fencing and the crash barriers to dry. I felt great even though I hadn't slept much, I had got through a bad night and felt stronger for it. I relaxed as I watched the steam rise from the land and my kit as they sun-dried. Once it was dry enough, I packed it all away and hit the road once more, following the 48

to Pazin. That was a pretty cool town, quite big but not overwhelming and still country even though it was touristy too. I stopped in a cafe for a cup of tea and a Croatian favourite–the Burek, which consists of layers of pastry filled with either goats cheese or minced meat. I found it to be very greasy though, but not bad. I exited Pazin on the 64, up into the surrounding steep hillsides of central Istra. I came upon many really lovely little villages and gorgeous views. Gracisce was amazing, with incredible views of the valley which I was about to cross and the mountains beyond that. I continued and came upon Potpican in the early afternoon, that was a horrible place. Light drizzle had been falling off and on since noon and yet the sun kept blazing, it was a really nice combination as I was only wearing short-shorts since it was so hot, so when the drizzle came it cooled me nicely. I managed to perfect the ancient art of peeing whilst walking! It was great and saved me loads of time . .

. unless the wind was against me! The sound of thunder came from nowhere all of a sudden, so I took shelter and waited. Nothing happened for half an hour so in the end I left the shelter and continued, I had a nice rest though, so it was worth it.

I walked and walked and walked all along the 64, through the floor of the valley and up into the hills again, stopping in Vozilici at a shop for dinner. I bought milk and some solid brown bread and discovered that it was only five! What the hell? Once again, it felt like hours and hours I was walking for, and I had been about to look for a camp, now I had another two hours to kill before I could do that, I guessed that today was about to become another 40km day . . . I continued, heading for the coast again, just before I hit the last town before the sea–Plomin Luka, I found a fantastic camp area and decided to make camp now rather than miss the chance. It

was just off the road in a wonderful silver birch forest. I was able to hang my hammock again and made a good camp. I was totally knackered out, so I ate, read and then went to bed :)

**Day 68**

Man I was so lucky I made a good camp that night! There was a mega storm that hit at around 10, incredible rain, lightning and thunder, so close and so loud and so shockingly bright, but I was warm and dry :) I got up and went into Plomin Luka believing that the road continued north along the coast. I was wrong, the road ended just after the town, damn map! I found a small shop inside someone's shed where I bought some juice and then I spied the road I needed–high up in the hills. I decided to forge my own path to it across the steep hillsides and through the locals gardens, it was very, very wet and the long grasses which I had to negotiate soon soaked me from the waist down but at least I wasn't back-tracking! After a very steep climb, I hacked my way through to the road I needed–the 66, which would take me all the way along the coast to Rijeka, where it would become the famous number 8 road, which would then take me down the entire coast of Croatia and beyond. The sun was just beginning to come out and it was already warm. I walked on.

What views upon the 66 road! The sea was now on my right and there were many islands, small and large for me to gaze at as I walked. I passed Brestova–not visiting because it meant a detour, I was content to walk and to gaze. The 66 road was pretty far from the water, I fancied a swim but it was going to mean an hours walk to the sea and then back, and that was only _if_ , I could find a passage down through the cliffs to the sea itself. So I didn't bother trying. I next came upon Brsec which is an amazing little ancient town, built into the cliffs. The houses were of white painted stone, all higgledy-piggledy with narrow streets going in random directions. Even though it was a small village, I got lost there! I decided to hit the beach when I saw a sign for it in Brsec, the sign told me it was a 10 minute walk–It lied! It was 20 minutes but it was an amazing track to walk, taking me through forests and alongside fields, down steep steps and finally, to the road leading to the beach itself.

Fudge it–was it worth it?! I think that it was the most beautiful beach I had ever seen, or at least–top three! It was only a small cove of a beach, covered in small, smooth white pebbles but it was already filled with people but they were all happy and friendly. It was surrounded on two sides by sheer cliff walls, curved to form a bay of beautifully clear, turquoise blue water. There were cliff jumps of all degrees from small to about 20 feet, all over the place and once in the water, fish of all shapes, colours and sizes were nearby so it was perfect for snorkelling or diving. I got my goggles on and explored around the cliff bases for ages, then did some cliff jumps and finally relaxed on the beach for a while. Once I was ready, I headed back through town onto the 66

northwards. I had planned about another two days to get to the top of the 66 and then Rijeka, But by the end of the day I was already at the top and camped just before Opatija–wow I went fast! I gazed out across the bay to the east and could now see the mainland of Croatia stretching off down to the south-east, I could also see the huge city of Rijeka resting in the opposite shoulder of the bay. Islands lay in the seas between, all covered in lush green, one day I would love to come back and explore some of those . . . I ate dinner and then relaxed a little before bed–I wasn't even tired after walking so far either, champion!

**Day 69**

Not a bad night's sleep. I awoke to a gorgeous orange-streaked dawn, it looked like a giant painter's brush had been swept across it, frivolously random, creating flecks and flicks of colour and cloud. Upon seeing such a wonderful morning I decided to get up and active straight away, hopefully making my body clock used to it again, because I felt the days were so much better, when spent according to the sun. I walked through Opatija which was a nice, touristy kinda town, there were a couple of big, abandoned buildings right on the coast–great for squatters ;) I kept on going and did about 10km until I was just outside the main, big mumma city there: Rijeka. I swam in the sea and ate some lunch then rested. I was finding it extremely difficult to stay focused on getting to Greece. Now that I had a plan in my head of what I was going to do after the journey, all I wanted to do was start that plan. It had begun to feel as if the journey was now a little pointless, after all–one of the biggest things I had wanted to get from it, was an idea of what the hell I wanted to do with myself! But I knew I couldn't stop, I would never forgive myself after coming so far, if I did not complete what I set out to do. I asked God for strength.

Rijeka was another typical massive city, but I did manage to find an absolutely gorgeous, hidden beach on the eastern side as I was exiting. To get to it, I had to go through a derelict house–but I was not alone, other bathers

had found this secret, but not many. As I swam lazily in the cool sea water, I thought that maybe this was the key: I should take the journey slowly and do things that I liked along the way . . . Hadn't I come to that conclusion before? Why was it so hard to just _be_? After a while I left the beach and continued along the road, I walked past the port at Martinsica and had to stop for a bit. The sun was boiling me alive and my stomach had begun to churn unpleasantly, it didn't bode well . . . I walked another 100 meters or so and my stomach forced me to halt once more, it felt even worse, Oh shit–something was going to come out of me for sure, which end and how bad, I could not yet discern. Another 100 meters and I had to haul myself over a wall just off the road, I rolled off it and fell down the other side, I had no strength in me left, I felt pallid and was sweating unnaturally. I squatted there on shaking legs, breathing ragged and took a dump. No better–I still felt awful. I couldn't put my bag back on to continue, I simply didn't have the strength. 10 minutes later and I began to puke.

I felt a little better after that. Was it the grapes I had eaten from a bin earlier that morning? Probably . . . No more bin food in Croatia!!! I gingerly walked on a little cradling my stomach, a very kind gentleman asked if I was alright, I said I was just feeling sick, but that I would be OK and thanked him. I stopped again two minutes later under some shade that I found, there I waited as my insides twisted terribly. I wanted to be anywhere but there. I vomited again–a few times. Everything that was in me came out–violently, even through my nose. It was a very stressful ordeal and I was still retching, even when there was no more left. Once it was over, I sat there on my knees, covered in filth and sweat, tears streaming down my face, but I felt vindicated. To finally not feel terrible inside was a blessing and I almost laughed–though I thought that if I did, I would fall over.

I had to make camp, I wasn't going to be able to do anymore of anything that day. I dragged my bag and myself along the road and thank god, I was so lucky–just up the road, about five minutes walk I found a place to camp. It was a ground camp but I was able to string my tarp above me. I set it up and lay in my hammock for a while. Again, so lucky because I had bought some juice earlier, that was just what I needed to replace the fluids and nutrients I had lost–I couldn't eat. I drank as much as I could and then slumped to the ground and slept. I was awoken at sometime either in the early evening or the early morning by two wild boar, snuffling around very near to my camp! They were not big examples of the beasts, but I was not going to take any chances. I made tiger sounds as best I could, hoping to scare them away, why I reckoned they might recognise and be scared of a tiger growl, I don't know but it seemed to work–For a while anyway. They kept returning and so I had to be vigilant until I fell asleep once more.

**Day 70**

I felt OK. Very weak but that was expected. I knew I wouldn't be able to eat for a while yet too. I looked back upon yesterday and thought how close I had come to finding transport to an airport and giving up, I just felt so wretched and alone. I felt so glad that I hadn't. 50 days to go, that was all. I had to hang in there. I heard an ominous thunder as I began to pack up my camp, or was it just the quarry or the port nearby? I couldn't discern it from the sky, but I decided to leave the tarp up until last just in case. Bloody lucky that I did because it started to pelt it down not five minutes later, I sat under the tarp while it did so. It didn't last very long and once it was over, I hit the road straight away. Once on the road it began to rain again! I got soaked but it was a warm rain and it invigorated me a little. It also meant that I couldn't see so well because my glasses got covered in water drops too.

I travelled past Bakar which was a really nice, hidden, sort of mini port at the bottom of the cliffs there. It sucks cos that area was like a huge natural marina but there was no bridge to cross the entrance, I had to walk the entire perimeter in order to continue and it was bloody big! I travelled through Bakarac, Kraljevica and on and on. I was just walking in a strange daze, through the blazing sun, ever south-east. I finally stopped in a lay-by just off the road for a bit. I sat and drank some water and then a car stopped and a guy came over to me. His name was Andreas, he was on a trip from Germany and he smiled as he offered me a lift. Aw maaaaaaan! I had to say no of course, but how I wanted that lift! Instead, Andreas gave me two yogurts, a big tomato, some water and 1,000 Kuna (also a shave!). I realised that the universe was watching over me once more. I had tried Krsna, I had tried to call it God, but it just hadn't felt right and now, with the charity from Andreas, I knew that it was the 'Universe' all along, and that I wanted to believe it in _my own_ ways. I felt like I was protected again and stronger of spirit.

I carried on and soon got to Dramalj, where I headed straight to the beach and swam to cool down and rest my aching feet. As mentioned, the E65 road would take me all the way through Croatia and into Monte Negro, so no need for maps or compass–It was nice to just let the road lead me for a change! Once I was ready I

continued. I passed through Crikvenica which was an amazing touristic beach-town. The Universe did it's thing and provided me with nuggets and chips from a bin, which I washed down with some juice. I was definitely feeling my strength return along with my appetite! I felt like, once again I was learning to balance my days. 
Essentially all I needed to do was walk a bit, then eat, rest (and swim if possible), walk some more, then camp.

That was a day. I knew also that I had to keep tabs on my grasping as always. Before, I was looking in every bin and thing that I saw for food, now I simply said: 'If I become hungry, I will buy food, but if the Universe wants to give me food as I travel, then I am open to it and thankful for it.' I continued again until I got just outside of the next bigger town–Novi vinodolski. It was getting on and so I decided to set up camp. Croatia had been pretty difficult thus far with camping, due to it's abundance of rocks all over the ground, smaller trees and spiky foliage. Tonight however, I was lucky, as I found camp just off the road in the gardens of an old hotel. It was absolutely swelteringly hot and the mosquito's were going nuts, but I was safe on the ground in my netted hammock . . .

**Day 71**

Well what the fuck Croatia?! All of a sudden last night, out of nowhere came a crazy-big electrical storm!

Lightning every two-three seconds but no rain or thunder! It was absolutely bizarre. I tried to sleep through it, but then I got worried in case my tarp blew away, so I got out and added two extra pegs to the mix. Thank God that I did cos it went absolutely nuts! The wind was howling and then the rain came down with a vengeance.

My camp held up well though and I stayed dry. I didn't get much sleep though due to how loud it was and how long it lasted. It was a gorgeous morning, but I was terribly tired. I packed camp and walked through Novi Vinodolski–another beachy/touristy kinda town, and followed the main road out.

I had begun to notice a trend there in Croatia, of private houses offering rooms overnight. They were signposted as 'Sobe' or 'Zimmer' since they get lots of German tourists there. It seemed quite a good idea–net the populace some disposable income, and get to know the Croatian people and towns more personally. The prices were amazing too–some were as little as 10E a night including a breakfast. I wasn't tempted though, but it was nice to know that there was a fall-back option if I ran into trouble. Once out of Novi V. the road went more southwards, and there was an incredible shift in the wind. It blew an absolute gale! Straight in my face–so strong that at many points on the road I was properly leaning forward into it. There was no pavement and sometimes I was teetering on the edge of sheer cliffs with naught but rocks below. It meant that I had to keep criss-crossing the road because I felt I might be blown off the edge of it. Overall it was quite dangerous, I could see why that road has the reputation for most accidents in Croatia . . .

I stopped for a rest just outside of Klenovica and then continued. It was stupidly hot. Hotter than ever on the journey so far and for the first time in a while I could feel my skin tingle as it began to burn. It was oppressive, but I carried on. Just outside of a town called Senj, I had a quick swim in the sea to cool off. Even though the sun had beaten down on me and the wind had beaten across me, I still felt that today was amazing! The scenery of the area was breathtaking: Opposite the road upon which I walked, across a small gulf of sea, arose the islands of northern Croatia. They were stark, sandy monoliths, lonely and proud. lightly populated and incredibly haughty, they commanded my gaze for much of the day. Sanj was a great town with an awesome 'old quarter' kind of feel. It seemed to have kept the original medieval street layout–a warren of alleys and nooks.

But it had also resurfaced most of the houses themselves, which gave it a really elegant and warm feel. I walked up to the overlooking 'Tavir Mahal': An ancient fort, and listened to the church bells in the town below, as they rang out 5pm. I carried on walking to just before Sveti Juraj, and there tried to make camp in a really nice forest that I found just off the road. I really wanted to make a ground camp since It had become my preferred method, I looked for ages but it was just far too sloped. In the end, I had searched for so long that darkness was setting in and so I made a bloody awful camp at the base of a big tree. The ground there was littered with pine cones and was very uneven, as well as having nowhere for me to string my tarp centre line up. This meant that my tarp was totally askew, took me ages to create and was bloody useless! But at least it was camp, I only hoped I didn't roll down the hill that I was perched so badly upon.

**Day 72**

I slept pretty well considering all those things afore mentioned, coupled with the gale that ripped through the forest as night took hold of the land. Honestly, I felt very relieved that no trees had fallen, cos I wouldn't have been surprised if they did. The morning was calm and still though. I packed up camp and headed out,

continuing on the only road there–the 65. I went through Sveti Juraj and into an area of Croatia that was pretty much wilderness for a long, long way. Croatia had tested me so much thus far: I had been burnt in her sun, drenched in her rains and sickened by her bin food, now I was once more being blown across the road by her winds! I make no exaggerations here–my bag acted like a sail and it was pretty dangerous. I often had to hang on to the crash barriers that popped up along the road lest I be thrown across it into traffic. But you know what?

I felt awesome! The landscape continued to amaze me, the islands were once more stretched out across the gulf, hills were to my left–tall, rocky and grim, the kind of hills that house bears. To my right were cliffs dropping into the clear blue seas. It felt rugged, tough and proud but oh it was so beautiful! I was so glad that I was in a state of mind again that allowed me to appreciate it all.

I was not left to go hungry along that lonely road either: Fig trees were in abundance and offered the most fantastic, sun-ripened fruit at almost every turn. The wind did not let up though, it must have been gale force at times and the road just kept on going up. My legs began to make it known that they were pissed off, I was tiring fast and I had only done around 10km. I decided to stop and grab a hearty lunch of eggs, chips and bacon at a randomly placed eatery in the middle of nowhere. It was well deserved and I felt much better for it, I felt that my energy levels were recharged–I was going to need it! This walking head-on into a literal gale was probably the most gruelling thing that I had ever done–more so even than the Alpine red paths I took before!

I did 25km of it today, and all the while the sun beat mercilessly upon me. It never seemed to end! My lips were swollen and chapped, the wind blew me all over the place and there was no respite–no beaches to swim in, no towns to get supplies or cups of tea in, no forests to get shelter or make camp. The only place I had come across was that random cafe! Also, I knew from looking at maps I had picked up in Rijeka, that I had at least another day of that long, wilderness road . . . What could I do other than keep putting one foot in front of the other though? Later, I came upon a gas station and since it was the only place for miles and miles I got some much needed supplies there. They weren't ideal: Some crackers and milk, but better than just eating figs all day long (much as I loved them). I found out in the gas station, that it was only bloody 4pm! I couldn't make camp for ages yet, man how I wanted to! So I carried on . . .

Another 8km and two hours later and I was gifted with the most perfect camp ever! I was so blinking happy because I had been looking for ages and worrying, cos it looked like there was nothing suitable for miles around, just rocks, scree slopes and thorny bushes. Then I noticed a gap in some bushes and boom! Long, luxurious grasses, few rocks and all surrounded by a low wall so as to keep the wind at bay. It also had a little shade and two small trees to tie my tarp up with. I felt that I had definitely earned it after what a mission it had been, so very gruelling indeed. My food situation was dire–I had eaten the crackers and drunk most of the milk, I only had the emergency muesli and a packet of crisps left, but I believed that there would be a shop in 10km or so–that was what the gas station guy had told me, I hoped so. I made my camp, heard a hiss and a slither as I did so but saw nothing, then went to bed.

**Day 73**

Once again Croatia tested me! Gale-force winds came howling across the land late in the night. I thought my little walls would be perfect wind breakers, but all they did was angle the gusts upwards so that they caught under my tarp, filling it like a sail and wrenching it from its ties. Twice in the night I had to get out and re-tie flapping lines. When dawn came I got up smartly, the wind was still howling but it had died down. I was tired but felt positive and I hit the road straight away. I found loads of food along the side of the road which I scavenged for breakfast–thanks Universe! I found yet another full pack of fags too, my fourth one now! It Looked like the Universe was trying to get me to smoke? No more please, I implored! I walked on for hours, it was just so desolate there, just tiny hamlets of four or five dwellings where the people bred goats or kept bees.

No beaches, no shops, no nothing. I did come across a sign though–it said: Zadar 86km. Woop! I was almost half-way through Croatia then :) Split therefore, was roughly 300km away, which meant I would get to Zadar in about three days and Split in eight-ish. _I couldn't remember at the time, if it was Split of Dubrovnik at the very_ _bottom of Croatia._ I kept going and got to Karlobag where finally, I could get to the beach! In fact I was spoiled for choice there–lots of very nice beaches all around, pretty much every lay-by played host to a beautiful, sparkling bay. I rested and had a tea there and in a small tourist office I studied a map of Croatia. I found that Zadar was indeed the centre of Croatia, Split was ¾ of the way down and Dubrovnik was last . . . Maaaaaan!

that meant I had way more of Croatia to go than I thought

_It had really begun to piss me off, how rubbish was thoughtlessly discarded there. All along the roadside, in_ _the most beautiful natural places it was tossed aside without a thought, it disgusted me. How can we be so_ _thoughtless and blind? Do we imagine that it will disappear or that someone else will clean it up? And it_ _seemed that if one person decided to drop litter, all of a sudden it meant everyone else could follow suit in that_ _area, meaning the rubbish grew and grew like a cancer. People! Allow me to clear this up: The only stuff that it_ _is ever OK to chuck from your cars or whatever is food (not the packaging), cigarette butts and toilet paper_ _(the last two very sparingly as well). That's it fuck heads!!!_

I managed to get onto the internet at a small hotel which was really sweet, since I had not communicated with anyone for weeks by then. After that I continued on the 65 again. Lots and lots of lovely little bays all along the roadside there, all sharp, igneous rock but beautiful, cool water. I stopped to swim after an hour, then did two more hours of uphill, wind in my face walking. Sometimes I just had to put my head down and zone out. I did 12km from Karlobag, the road just kept on going and going and once again, there was absolutely fuck all there!

After a while I developed a headache and so I began to stop for rests more often and drank more water, it meant that I would run out of it very quickly though, and there was nowhere to resupply. It was incredibly hard since it meant that I then had to regulate my water and by about 4pm I was a zombie. _On an interesting side note: I_ _reckoned that I had spent (of my own cash–not busking money that I had made or money found whilst en-route)_ _45E on the ferry, 100E on food and that's it! 150E total over 73 days, 7 countries and something like 1,200_

_miles! Not bad :) It makes a huge difference when you sleep outdoors and find a lot of your food! (I also didn't_ _count the money I spent on the sleeping bag and rucksack, since they would serve me long after the journey_ _was over and therefore, didn't constitute as a cost of the journey itself)._

I continued and met 2 dudes in hippie clothing admiring the view. I stopped and spoke with them. One guy was French and was on a hitch-hiking run to Sarajevo, and the other guy was a German who was driving

around Croatia. Both were really nice and we shared stories and laughs for a while. They gave me a bottle of water and pretty much saved my life! They also offered me a lift to Split but I refused stating my quest as usual, then they drove off and I continued. I got to the next village called Rudelici, night was beginning to threaten and so I was on the look-out for a camp. There was a big lay-by with a few skips on one side so I checked them out. I found a pretty clean mattress discarded by the side of the skips, behind the lay-by was a little gully nicely hidden from view by a couple of low trees–it was perfect! I dragged the mattress into the gully where it would form the base for my camp that night. The trees held my tarp and I made a brilliant camp there upon the mattress–a proper bed for the night, woop! There were lots of big ants nearby but I couldn't have cared less.

Thank you Universe!

**Day 74**

I had a great night's sleep, being down in the gulley meant that I was out of most of the wind, and being on the mattress was bliss! I got up at dawn, packed up camp and set off. I felt very strong and positive again. _I had_ _begun to see very clearly that I didn't get **proper** happiness from material things, they could only provide a_ _fleeting satisfaction that must be regularly reinforced or repeated, and can thus lead to addiction. I saw that it_ _was only when I surrendered my future into the hands of the Universe–trusting it totally to care for me–and to_ _therefore be completely in the present, that I could be truly happy. I could then appreciate my life and enjoy_ _where I was and what I was doing. If I worried about the future then I wasn't able to enjoy the present. If I_ _regretted the past then I couldn't either. I had already learned to let go of the past, letting go of the future was_ _the next breakthrough for me, and the key was the wording: Surrender the future. Not a blind casting away of_ _it, but an awareness of what you are giving–it's a very scary thing to do: It meant that I had to stop hoarding_ _food with the future in mind, and just accept what was given. It meant that I had to let go of my dreams for the_ _future, and accept that I may well do nothing with my life, in terms of 'achieving' and all that bollocks–_

_Ultimately, that is simply vanity or pride projected into the future anyway. I finally saw that I was nothing. I_ _stopped trying to control things and I accepted that I could die at any moment and that it was OK. I was not_ _special, I was not immortal, I was unimportant. I became free. It was an epiphany that opened my clouded_ _mind, and freed me from the burden of thinking anything was important–how dare I try to control things! The_ _Universe knows and loves me and it is for the Universe to decide the paths that are offered to me. All I need do,_ _is take those paths._

I walked for a couple of hours, my head felt clear and light, it was incredible to feel that much peace inside me where usually there was turmoil and worry. It was as if I was a new person when in fact, all I had done was

shed a layer of falsehood. My left foot was pretty painful for some reason, and my physical energy seemed to wax pretty quickly so I stopped and had a cup of tea. I found out that it was 10am and Starigrad was 18km away. I wasn't sure whether or not I would make that by tonight since I was less energetic than usual but I didn't worry at all about it. There was bay after bay once again in that area, all gorgeous, clear and peaceful, I really enjoyed exploring those little coves. I also found wild food in abundance along the side of the road–figs were bloody everywhere again, their sweet nectar was exquisite, also prickly pears on the cacti, almond and olive trees as well as mussels, snails and urchins in the sea. I imagined that survival here would be relatively simple due to the land being very wild and unspoilt. I found a gorgeous beach with a lovely tree to shade me and rested there a while–Why not! I then continued gamely onwards and arrived in Starigrad around six :) I found a little map which showed me that I could bypass Zadar (I had already been there and I detest big places anyway) which pleased me. I then decided to eat out since I was mega hungry and my feet were killing me, plus I saw lasagne for cheap! I had a salad too and a coke and I felt amazing. So tranquil, I had no fears for my future–live or die, it didn't matter since I was free.

After resting a little once I had eaten, I headed out of town as the sun began its descent. As I was walking I was hailed by someone and I slowed to see what they wanted. It was a young woman–Nina and she told me that she had seen me walking twice earlier on as she was driving. She invited me down to the beach together with her brother and we hung out chatting for a while. We chatted about my journey and the Universe, I explained about taking opportunities and she smiled saying:

"I'm too much of a good girl to do that, I always prefer others to take before me."

I thought that a very sweet answer, imagine if everybody behaved in that manner . . . I told her that the Universe loved her and that she should start with small opportunities, I also told her that she had seen, and taken an opportunity tonight by hailing me–that made her think a bit :) She told me how she loved to walk the hills of that region, taking a backpack and going for hours, she seemed to have a longing for more. We finished talking and then parted ways. I continued south-east along the same road–the 65, and soon found an enchanting little pine forest to make camp. It was right on the beach, the ground covered in a thick layer of softened needles with few rocks, perfect for a ground camp. I set up, hidden away as the sun dipped into an ocean of pinks and oranges, It was magical. The night drew in very quiet and still, finally no wind!

**Day 75**

I slept well, there was not a breath of wind at all, all night! I thought a lot about Nina as I fell asleep, that look in her eyes really seemed to me like she wanted to travel but was scared, plus she had told me about having a rucksack the same as mine–that's a long-term travelling rucksack, not a weekend bag. I resolved to head back to hers if the Universe made it possible, and once there, I would offer her the choice to travel with me if she wanted to. I felt like I could handle a road buddy and it felt like the right thing to do–help someone out. I broke camp and got back on the road, it was only a half hour back to her place and so I thought–fuck it, lets do it, Lets make an effort for someone! I was soon back at her house and she was there. She came out with an amazed and confused look on her face that said, 'You're back?!' I made her the offer (see introduction) but as I had expected, she said her responsibilities there were too important to just up and leave. I instead gave her my white bracelet telling her that it represented freedom and she smiled as she put it on. _I hoped that it may remind her and give_ _her the courage to do the things she really wants to do._ Her mother then emerged and invited me in for breakfast, yay! We sat outside and chatted, her mother's partner joined us too and we chatted for ages over tea, cheese and buttered toast. Nina then took some photos and I said that if she ever wanted to travel and didn't want to do so alone, she should contact me. She mentioned a desire to travel Cuba one day . . . Her mother then loaded me up with food and drink–enough for a couple of days! Thanks Universe! I then hit the road once more.

The day became extremely hot indeed, the noise from the crickets along the road was incredible. I followed the road through Rovanjska and Maslenica, towards Posedarje. On the way I found a lovely little hidden beach on the 'Novigradsko more' lake, where I stopped for a swim among the tiny fishes and then a rest. I then continued and took the 56 road through the countryside. The 56 ran parallel to the sea, around 50km away from it, and headed towards Sibinik where it would re-join the E65 again, so that was my plan anyway. My feet became sore once again due to the sweltering heat, but I was pleased with my progress. My map was terrible and had already led me astray a couple of times that day so I binned it and wished I had a more useful one, a

little further down the road I found a discarded map! Exactly what I needed, it was torn and battered but it was a vast improvement on the one I had before, I thanked the Universe and continued with an amazed grin on my face.

Now that I knew I wanted to surrender my future and I knew the peace and freedom that it brought, I was determined to practice it as much as I could. I was aware that I was only human and that I had already begun to worry about a few things and thus loose the path a little, water was my primary concern. I asked the Universe to please give me some and then, after an hour of not finding any, I stopped at a house and asked the old woman there who was tending to her garden, if she would please fill my water ( _I said 'aqua?' And shook my empty_ _bottle at her since my Croatian was awful)._ She was lovely and beamed a wide smile as she returned from her house having filled my canteen. I thanked her and continued, and guess what I found after not even five minutes down the road . . . a full bottle of mineral water!

_It was a very clear lesson from the Universe I believe. It was blatantly telling me that it had my back all along_ _and that I should have just trusted it. It wasn't mad though, I don't believe the Universe ever gets mad at any_ _one of us. It gets sad yes, and it gets hurt by our behaviour–but it will never ever abandon us and forgives us_ _time and time again._ It was a good lesson, it gave me faith and courage–I would improve. I made camp Just past Smilcic in a field of tall wild grasses under a small tree. As I lay in my camp I worked on my trust in the Universe. I knew that I had barriers up still which would take time to surmount, but examples like the map and the water today were really opening my eyes and strengthening my trust and faith in the Universe. Little by little, I believed I was improving. Still, I was finding it pretty tough just to continue on the journey still, I wanted to finish it now! I wanted to hitch-hike so badly and I got offered rides twice today! I had to hang in there . . .

**Day 76**

I awoke to the sounds of a magnificent orchestra of nature: Layers of cricket chirps formed a constant, deep, bass warble while high pitched whistles from hidden birds, provided the treble notes just like a woodwind section. It absolutely filled my ears and soul as I lay amidst the long grasses watching the orange sun slowly rising, but even with all that beauty–enough to bring tears to my eyes, I felt so deeply weary. I began to pack up camp, feeling almost dead as I did so, I felt like I had nothing left. I started to say to the Universe how thankful I was for everything and then, I said it:

"I surrender."

And I knew that I truly meant it. I knew that I couldn't finish the journey as I was–as the MossDogg that I had been. I had to change, because _that_ me had nothing left to give, even though I had only a few weeks to go. I truly surrendered, just as I had been trying to do for the last few weeks, because without the Universes strength I would surely fail. It was an epiphany and suddenly everything fell into place for me. The physical dissipated, I felt neither strength nor fatigue, pleasure nor pain, courage nor fear–I simply _was_. I had become the Universes instrument and I realised then why I had chosen such a long and arduous journey: I had to reach breaking point, and I had to reach it in order to give in and call on the Universe from a pure and real point. Suddenly I had no thoughts on the future at all, it was like a blank book before me. Would I succeed? I no longer cared, it wasn't important anymore. I had an Idea to write a book on religion called 'How to make religions and enlighten people,' all about why religions have failed to unite people due to the dogma and hierarchies and corruption and how true religion is not religion at all–no stories or teachings, only feelings. I could see my dreams, clear now before me but as to whether they would ever manifest or not, again I no longer cared, it was not a problem anymore! I was finally living in the moment and I could do anything.

I began my walking, headed toward the rising sun along a long, straight road through the countryside. No thoughts, only a deep, complete peace. On the way the Universe reminded me of its love: For ages yesterday evening, as I walked while my feet ached and I was hungry, I cried out to the Universe through my soul. I begged for an abandoned building to shelter in for the night. The Universe told me to keep on going and to trust in it, but all I went past were fields and fields and I grew increasingly despondent. In the end I gave up on it and took the ground camp in that field. Well, as I walked from my camp that morning, not 100 meters up the road guess what was there . . . ? Yup, an abandoned house–open and inviting! If I had kept my faith and trust and continued five minutes more I would have found that which I had sought, just like the water the day before.

Proof that the Universe protects and sustains me if I trust and surrender to it. So I walked on and I forgot myself. I found that I drifted in and out of awareness of the world around me. The Universe provided for me all the way as I walked–Pizza and water for lunch, figs, almonds, chocolate, orange juice, apples and a pear for dinner. _I saw that the key to my getting free from material/physical grasping, was not to 'listen' to my body_ _anymore, I needed to 'hear' it instead :) That is to say, that we can 'want' stuff all the time, whether it be food,_ _warmth, shelter, entertainment–whatever. But what we actually ' **need** ,' is very different and far less. Put your_ _body into 'alarm mode' instead, so that you only hear when your body actually needs something. Listening is a_ _constant act, hearing is a triggered one, and that is the difference. In our western, consumer driven world, we_ _have been taught that its OK to indulge our every physical desire and as a result, those desires have control_ _over us and we no longer see the difference between want and need._ In doing this, it meant that I used my senses much more in order to experience things: My eyes for example, were no longer always searching for food or camp and so I looked about me and saw the beauty of the world. My mind was no longer listening to the voices of my desires and so I heard more of the songs of the world. My hands were no longer grasping so for physical things to comfort or please me, and thus they felt the textures of the world once again, I guess it was almost like being a child again, in wonder of all the newness around me.

The sun and it's heat were oppressive that day, my lips became swollen and sore again, I was sweating and exhausted and the road, the road . . . It never seemed to end. It was totally OK with me though, I knew that I was doing it all for a reason now–for the Universe, under it's lead, but damn–It was still so fucking gruelling! I laughed as I admitted to myself, that I really wanted to be back on the sea so I could swim. Two days, that's all I had left before I would be on the coast again. I realised that I had almost worn through the soles of my boots–

two inch thick 'Vibram' soles too! I stopped for a rest at a derelict horse farm and as I sat munching on the wall, I noticed a sign opposite. It read, 'Danger mine field,' and had a nice skull motif–Wow! Yup the road was a bitch but I carried on and did a further 20km getting me just past Stankovici.

I was beginning now to see the real Croatia, the small rural townships and the everyday lives of their people. I saw shepherds herding sheep across roads, abandoned buildings turned into hay barns, all the men on benches in the shade waving at passing cars, a wedding with singing and where everyone in the village it seemed, was present. I felt very much 'the alien' there, wandering through, observing. I just said 'Dobra dan,' and smiled to everyone I met and carried on. I bought a coke at a little shop and took a break. I knew that I still had another two hours roughly of walking left for the day, but I had already done over 30km and my legs said no, I wondered what the Universe would say? Eating so many figs was beginning to take its toll on my bowels, I had taken two craps today and my farts were foul! I decided not to eat anymore until tomorrow.

I continued another 4km and came across a cool derelict farm house, I investigated but found that nature had taken too much of a hold upon it–hundreds of bats were hanging from the ceiling and brambles had broken through and twisted from the floor, pretty epic though! No mater, I continued and found a near full bottle of pop in exactly the flavour that I had seen earlier and had a hankering for–what were the odds?! I enjoyed some and saved a little. Then, in the middle of fields and fields I found camp. It was a circular patch of tall bushes just off the road with a small entrance and a clear centre, it was perfect–all except for the thorns everywhere, but I was still very happy. I set up camp and watched the shepherd in the fields opposite whilst I ate dinner. The sun went slowly down and the fields and hills were brought out in a beautiful orange-gold glow. It had been a very hard day physically but I felt amazing. I was back to hand-to-mouth living but I was no longer afraid at all, I felt ready. I thanked the Universe and hit the hay.

**Day 77**

I had a great sleep, it cooled during the night into a lovely dewy morning. I was up at dawn with the shepherds and packed up camp while the sun rose, from a ruddy red haze on the horizon into a burning, golden orb. While walking along I was again saddened by the litter everywhere, It got me thinking and I came up with something which I think will help. It is designed for people who cannot tell what is OK to litter (bio-degradable) and what is not, it's called:

'The universal litter test.'

This test works for absolutely anything, can be done anywhere, at any time and needs no specialist equipment, it's also totally free! So before you throw it, do this simple test and see if it's OK to throw or if you should hold

on to it.

Step 1: Take the item or material in question and put it into your mouth.

Step 2: Bite into it.

Step 3: Ask yourself–can you now chew and swallow it without vomiting, death or lasting internal damage? If so, then bingo! It's good to throw, yay! (MossDogg is not responsible for the results of the universal litter test).

Also, I had thought more about the sensory thing that I began thinking about yesterday: Basically It is very like being a child. There are two modes to each sense: Active and directed, or inactive and undirected. If your senses are active and directed then you are focusing on a specific thing like a direction, a place or a being, you are 'tuning' your senses to that thing or things and your mind is focused–ready to receive information from that thing, meaning that other things around you are less likely to capture your attention. If your senses are inactive and undirected, then they are free to wander and to respond to the environment you are in, your mind is free to notice things that you might otherwise miss, because you are not drawing your focus anywhere specific, thus your focus is drawn by your senses themselves. As mentioned–a lot like a child: Looking around in wonder, letting his/her senses direct their attention, it is a very interesting way to be! Finally, I refined the 'surrender the future' philosophy thus: A young child does not (usually) worry about it's future, that is usually the job of it's guardian/s. If you can think of the Universe as your guardian, then it will look after you. Be as a child to the Universe :)

I had 23km to go before I would get to the next big place–Sibenik. Before I had gotten too hungry on the road, I found a massive bag of monkey nuts which I thanked the Universe for and then I found a bottle of water to wash it down with, then I found two chocolate bars for desert! I was no longer actively looking (as above), and so I found that I noticed the views much more, but how did I spot the food and drink? It was strange: As I was looking at the hills or a butterfly or a field or whatever, my eyes would flit from thing to thing and boom! I would be drawn to the food, just seeming to be lying there waiting for me. I didn't look anymore–I saw. I noticed that I could do the same with listening: I no longer listened–I heard! And also with touch: I was no longer touching–I was feeling. It was beautiful beyond description, it was a pure revelation in sensory perception, I had no filters telling me things, I just experienced. It was like when I first started this journey and I was so gleeful and everything was wonderful and I was happy. My worries had evaporated like the sweat from my brow and my mind could now appreciate all the beauty around me–of which there was a lot!

That part of Croatia was gorgeous indeed. I arrived at the big bridge just before Sibenik and the bay there was absolutely stunning. The city itself was pretty cool too, a little too large and built up around the central core for me though. I managed to find a working phone where I called my dad. He was extremely happy to hear from me and could tell by my voice that I had changed mentally. He told me that mum had been crying about me and he had been having nightmares and losing sleep over me also. Not a good thing really, but what could I do? He said that they wanted to meet me at Dubrovnik and asked when I would be there. I told him eight days from now and he agreed to try and find a flight and come out,–even though once I was at Dubrovnik, I would only have about three weeks left to go. I thought that it was a great time to see them, Croatia was lovely, and I was in a fantastic mental space, it meant that they would see a new me–a man physically shaped by the elements and filled with quiet, spiritual strength from his tested faith in the Universe.

I continued and found a great bin filled with breads and vegetables–thanks! Once outside of Sibenik I stopped at a little bakery for a rest. I slumped down against the front wall of the bakery, in the only shade available and there I ate my bread. Someone noticed me as he left the bakery and asked me how I was, I told him what I was doing and the kind soul gave me a bag of plums! Then he told the woman in the bakery and she came out and gave me some water and a chocolate bun–woop! I was now overloaded with food again and I hadn't even tried at all–it had just all come to me, it was amazing. I thanked the Universe and saw that I really was totally unworried about anything, even my water situation–when I got low, I asked, simple! I walked another 6km to just outside of Virpolje, to my right was a gorgeous lake and as I walked through the grass on the side of the road, every single step launched dozens and dozens of crickets of all different sizes and colours, some as big as small birds–honestly! Most chose to jump away from me but some leapt straight into me, it was bizarre!

I was now back to saying hello to everyone I came across which was good, it also meant that there had to have been a decline in my positivity for me to notice that rise, at the time I hadn't noticed how It slipped away, I was

going to enjoy reading back through my diary which my future self would write ( _which I am now writing–thank_ _you past self!)._ The Universe began to play little games with me: Because I said hi to so many people, I would often end up chatting with them, most of the time they would ask what I was doing and I would tell them, often then, they would offer food or water or a sit down and I would almost always accept. It meant that I soon had too much food and so I thought–in exchange for their kind offers, and also in order to spread the love, I could offer my excess food to them! What happened however, when I tried to offer one guy some plums, was that he promptly took me to his garden and showed me his plum tree . . . Despite my protesting, he then picked a load of them and gave them to me with a wide smile–fek, I thought as I smiled back! And so the day wound on and I did another 10km along the 58 road. I made camp above ground due to there being too many rocks, on a hill.

The view was spectacular and I was so happy and grateful to be enjoying my quest again, rather than simply trudging along, barely alive. Thank you!!!

**Day 78**

Sleep was OK, I heard a wolf calling in the night at one point. It sounded pretty far away, somewhere in the valley below me so I wasn't too concerned. It was the first time I had ever heard a wolf howl for real and it really was very chilling, my skin prickled! I arose with the dawn again but I felt noticeably lower of energy today. I de-camped and walked on, I felt so very tired that I asked the universe to take over walking for a while so that I could switch off! I don't think it worked though . . . It got very hot and very sunny very quickly but somehow, it was all OK. I think actually the universe _did_ take over my walking because I began to feel as if my legs were not my own, my head was in a daze and the kilometres came and went by me. I found water and figs aplenty on the road and even managed to get a cup of tea with my lunch at a tiny cafe, out in the middle of nowhere. There was one question that had popped up today and it was bugging me–was I doing this walk now for the Universe, like I wanted to believe? Or did the Universe want me to stop? After a lot of pondering as I walked, I came to the conclusion that I was indeed doing it for the Universe, it felt right still. You see, the journey was originally my idea–that was true, but it was the Universe that had created all the events necessary for the journey to actually happen: The selling of my business, meeting Layla and having my heart broken and a few other things. Originally, I had been looking to travel as a duo and maybe head to India, but the Greece journey happened instead. Seeing this meant that I had a clear conscience for the completing of the journey, I wasn't doing it for selfish or vain reasons, the Universe had enabled me to do this and it was enabling me to finish it too–it was doing the walking for me right then and there ffs! My resolve shone brightly again, strength of mind and spirit flowed through me and I let go once more.

A little later on and the Universe rewarded me with a three course, road-side banquet: A fresh pizza slice (a little sun-crisped, but lovely), water (a little sun-warmed, but refreshing) and an unopened Milka chocolate bar woop! I had a little rest after lunch and then carried on. I also received four silver coins as I walked which served to tell me that I was on the right path. I thanked the Universe a lot that day! Next thing I found was a winking, smiley face car air-freshener, I winked back at the Universe–what a joker! I got to about 10km from Trogir at something like 1pm I thought. I crested the final hill before the decent to the city and I stopped in my tracks. The view was beyond belief, so beautiful I just drank it in. The land in front and to the sides of me fell away to reveal a huge cove where the town was situated. The semi-circle of island around it was a most vibrant green, full of life with a perfect white-walled, red-roofed city therein. Blue skies, blue seas, boats, warmth from the sun–truly it was a vision. It was marred only slightly by the super-port in the centre of the cove, like a pupil, but that must be what made Trogir so prosperous so I did not begrudge it.

I took a slight detour along a small footpath rather than the main road and saved a few km, then–because I didn't want to go into the town itself–I stayed on the main road instead of the path into town and I found that it was impossible to then escape from it! I was so close to the sea, but due to the private houses and the private farms between the road and the water, I was unable to get to her! Ah well, so be it, I thought as I continued. I saw Split on the opposite side of the gulf, shimmering in the distance. It was about 25km away and I definitely didn't want to get there tonight so I slowed a little. I ended up walking right down to the airport at Kastel stafilic for a total of around 40km walking today. It was an OK town with an interesting beach that I found played host to an automatic water-ski machine. I bathed and watched the people having fun, and as the sun started to go down I hastily tried to dry myself as best I could without a towel, then began looking for a camp. It was pretty built up there though, and so I had to make a dodgy little ground camp in someone's olive grove, right next to the airport! I found some pizza on the way again which was lovely, and I enjoyed watching the planes fly over every so often. Bit loud though!

**Day 79**

It was a good sleep last night considering an airport was next door! I made sure I was up just before the dawn had broken so that I wasn't found in the olive grove. I broke camp and left smartly. I walked on and soon found myself walking through Split. It was a huge industrial town and I hated it–I couldn't wait to get out. My feet hurt a lot for some reason, perhaps it was the 40km I travelled yesterday? Dubrovnik was then signposted as only 200km away, which meant that I was perfectly on time to meet mum and dad. All of a sudden a car pulled up in front of me beeping like crazy. A guy got out and came up to me . . . It turned out to be the same guy that had given me the plums at the bakery the other day! What the hell!? He and his wife (Niko and dreams) were very happy to see me, and Niko gave me his mobile number just in case I needed anything. They offered me money but I told them that I didn't need it since the Universe was looking after me, but I thanked them all the same. We had a little chat and then they continued on their way and I, out of Split.

I found that Split improved to the south as it boardered on Podstrana, and that to the east, there was a wonderful park. Podstrana had some gorgeous beaches that were not surrounded by industry, and there I met two amazing Ozzy travellers in a camper–Tony and Heidi. Toni shared some of his baguette with me which I thought was an epic thing to do, then we chatted a while and I took his email. Since they were heading north and I south, we shared our favourite spots that we had found. They told me that they had absolutely loved Monte Negro but that Albania was not so nice. I had, until that point, held a slight trepidation about Monte Negro due to the fact that I knew very very little about it, whereas I had seen Albania on a travel programme a while back, and was very much looking forward to that. We said our goodbyes and so I continued. I stopped a bit later at a lovely beach to take lunch and to rest my feet. It then transpired that I had accidentally entered the private beach which belonged to the big camp site there, and I was asked to leave lol! I carried on along the road and pushed on all the way to Dugi Rat. I saw a little shop and I gave in to my craving for sugar . . . I bought a two litre bottle of Cola and then found out that I only really wanted a little bit, but now I was lumbered with a big, annoying bottle that was sure to get warm quick. The Universe then taught me a lesson, when the bottle began leaking everywhere and covered my arms and legs with the sticky drink–aw shit! I hadn't been trusting in the Universe as much as I should have today and the results were clear. I looked for a camp in a few derelict places that I found along the way, but they were all no good–horrible, dark and dusty, I prefer outdoors.

But then I found a perfect tunnel/cave in which to make camp, it looked out above the road and the houses, and I got to watch the sun sink into the waters of the Croatian sea.

**Day 80**

Boom! Day 80 :) Day 40 had seemed like such a milestone, so long ago and now I had doubled it, I felt very proud. It was a bit of a tough sleep last night cos it was really dusty and the town nearby was pretty loud, but it wasn't too bad. I was up when the church bells called six. I felt somewhat guilty for how I took the universe for granted yesterday, and also allowed my greed to take over in the buying of that big coke. I decided to pay a penance for it today and carry the big, annoying bottle round with me until it was drunk rather than chuck it out.

I decided that I was also going to learn from it, and I compiled a small list of 'my commandments':



I shall not buy drinks except for tea or water when needed.



I shall not buy sugary food or chocolate.



I shall not fear hunger or thirst.



I shall give up my day bag (again!).



I shall not buy tobacco.

I was pleased with them, they made sense to me and would help me to stay centred and not be a puppet to desire. Notice that they say I will not 'buy' stuff, rather than I will not 'consume' it or whatever, by this I mean that if the universe _offers_ it to me, I have the choice to take it, so I still have much freedom. I continued onwards along the coast road, through Oni which had amazing cliffs and was a really great, bustling little market town. I carried on and on and did 20km and got to Pisak, I now had 20km more until I would arrive in Markata which is where I wanted to get past and make camp that night, but that would mean a 40km day and my feet were killing already. I looked at my boots–they had literally no soles left on them, I may as well have

been walking in slippers! I had no choice but to continue and I walked with my head in outer space as if in a trance. I passed a sign for Dubrovnikl and it told me it was 180km away?! The hell? It was supposed to be 150km now–based upon the sign I last saw for it in Split. Perhaps that sign meant the motorway route? Shit! Ah well, I much preferred the coastal route anyway, but 30km extra was a whole extra day of walking though, and that meant I would be late for meeting my parents unless I made up the kilometres somehow . . .

I was now travelling south-easterly again following the coast, and so I had no worries about direction. This was the final leg of Croatia, all south-east and I knew that she was bound to throw everything she had at me before I escaped. My food situation was epic: I had bread, cheese, ham, sausage, water and cereals all from bins–about two days worth. On from Pisak, I found it impossible to get down to the sea again–the cooling water was about 500m and a steep cliff away. It was so hot–almost unbearable, and I was desperate to cool off with a swim, it was torture! My feet were in absolute agony, I lamented–what was I putting them through?! Poor things :( 80 days of hard graft for them, they don't know what's going on! Still, I was almost done now–roughly three weeks to go. I got to Brela which was a fantastic tourist spot: Gorgeous beach and the town was a little maze of restaurants, shops and tourist hang-outs. I raced to the beach and plunged straight in, my lips were so chapped and sore that I was nearly brought to tears by the burning sting of sea water upon them, still, that was a good sign that they were healing. I rested a little while on the beach and then set off once more. In the end I continued to just before Makarska, where I camped in a really fantastic spot overlooking the town. The sun set a gorgeous hazy red, mountains were all around me. Dubrovnik was now 155km away (according to the latest road sign) and so I decided that I would do 35km days from now on, in order to arrive on time. It would be a slog, but then I would be able to rest for a couple of days once there. Gods I was going to need it!

**Day 81**

I was so tired last night that I fell almost instantly asleep, which is rare for me. I slept soundly all night and woke feeling very much better. My feet were still extremely sore though and they hurt for a while as I put my weight upon them. I needed to do 35km today and I mentally prepared myself. I could do it. I packed camp and I began walking. I walked and I walked. A car stopped and I was asked if I wanted a lift, damn but I wanted one! I thanked them instead, told them that I was OK and continued. It was all good I reminded myself–I was almost there . . . I walked through some fantastic scenery, Croatia was so beautiful there. I found an insole in an old shoe that was in a bin and I popped it into my right boot, man what a difference that made! It felt so much better :)

I did it–I walked 35km, which made 120km left to Dubrovnik, so 30km a day for the next four days which meant less slogging and more enjoying again! I realised however, that it meant I would be arriving in Dubrovnik in the evening after having spent all day walking, so I decided to do 32km a day and thus arrive in Dubrovnik around lunch time instead. I saw loads of lovely bays along my way today, it was pretty much bay after bay after bay. I had a couple of quick swims to rest and cool down. It was a mega hard day but I just put my head down and pushed through it. I was glad. I camped that night in an old abandoned shack which I found in a small forest. I dragged a small, dirty mattress that I had found nearby into it and it was pretty sound. I think there was some kind of big wasp nest nearby though, but they didn't seem too interested in me or the shack . . .

Yet.

**Day 82**

I had a great sleep, the roof almost collapsed in the wind, but I was fine. Sleeping on a mattress meant that my legs and feet got a much needed rest too, they still hurt like fuck though, but they were a lot better. I got up at dawn and headed out. I felt quite low on energy today even though I had slept well, so I decided to break up the days walking into 4km stages with little rests in between. During those rests I would massage my aching feet and try to slow their descent into agony. As I approached Ploce, there was an area with two magnificent lakes, it was one of the most gorgeous views of the journey, and had to be the most beautiful lake view I had ever seen. My food supply had almost run empty again and my water too was almost gone. I wanted to call my parents and just confirm that they were coming, but I didn't find a phone box at all. I continued walking on into Ploce itself. It was a cool town with a big old, dirty port. If you ignore the horrible port bit, then its a really nice place actually, little rivers and estuaries all over the place. After Ploce, the road went over a bridge, and from there I could see that it went in a massive ¾ of a circle around a big piece of farm land in the middle. It then went over the hills and south east. I tried to spot a way through the farmland and therefore cut off the circular

waste of time but there was nothing clear, it was too hidden by vegetation. In the end I decided to chance it and I took a foot path into the farm land. If I was right, then I would save about 10-15km which was epic, if I was wrong, well–I would probably cry with frustration or something!

The path headed right for a while but then took me north-east, parallel to the damn road. It was a dirty, dusty gravel track that was a pain to walk on and it just kept going and going, I tried some small off shoots from it, but all ended up in dead-end fields and I was forced to back-track. At one point, I totally lost the road but managed to find it again further on. I was very soon hot and fed up since I was getting nowhere. I ran totally out of water and began to dehydrate–my head began to ache, my tongue and mouth went dry and my legs felt as if they were about to fall off. I went into zombie mode again and resigned myself to just following the track parallel to the road and doing the circumference. Damn! I told myself to stop whining, what could I do? Head back? Then I remembered that I was supposed to be trusting the Universe! Where had that trust gone? I repeated a mantra in my head–'I trust you.' Over and over I repeated it and then I saw a bridge, and a track veering off from the main one in the direction that I wanted! I hoped in my head that it would be right but I also held myself back and prepared to accept if it was not, I was open again.

I took the new route and my luck turned, it began to head south-east and was taking me exactly where I wanted to go. two small open-backed lorries came towards me from the opposite end of the road, they were bouncing along the gravel at speed so I stopped and got over onto the verge letting them pass. Once the dust had cleared I saw a sight that was like a gift from Heaven–a watermelon had bounced off the back of one of the lorries and was there, cracked and glistening in the road! My spirits soared, it was just what I needed and I ran to it, forgetting my pain. It was in two sections, one upside down on the road and too dusty to eat, but the other bigger piece was in perfect eating condition. I fell to my knees in the middle of the road and gorged myself, scooping handfuls of the sweet flesh and slurping up the cool water. I ravished that frikin melon and I didn't stop to move as the cars went by me. It was the sweetest, most juicy bit of fruit that I had ever, ever had! I found it incredible how only five minutes before, I had been whining and wishing that I had some fruit juice because I felt I needed the vitamins. I thanked the universe with more gusto than ever as I ate my sticky, but gorgeous fill.

Once finished, I regained my feet and took to walking once more. The path took me out the other side of the fields eventually, where it then rejoined the number 8 road. All in all I had only saved around 3km, but I had experienced so much. I then came upon a row of shops including a gas station and a hotel. At the hotel I filled my water and at the gas station I found a working payphone–I could hardly believe my luck! I called home but my parents were away, instead I spoke to my sister who told me about the booking that my parents had made–

Disaster! My father had booked to arrive in Dubrovnik two days later than we had agreed, which meant that all that extra-hard walking had been totally pointless, since I was now two days ahead of schedule. Fuck, fuck, fuck!!! I was very angry to say the least. I finished the call with my sister and continued walking–seething as I went. After a little while, the smoke in my head cleared and I began to see that the Universe had done this! It had created that reality and there was a reason for it. I felt that the cheeky bugger was probably laughing at me a little and I began to laugh too. I then sought the reason why–what did this mean for me? It meant that I had two days to kill now, and then I saw it: I was now forced by this to _slow down!_ I could now relax, I didn't have to walk like crazy to arrive there on time, I didn't have to zombify myself and miss all the wonderful things around me, I could stop now, I could enjoy and indulge. I laughed again at myself and how angry I had gotten, what a fool I had been, and I felt the Universe laugh with me.

_I believe that there, the Universe was teaching me a truly wonderful lesson. I had become fixated upon results_ _and the destination: I was so keen to finish the journey and meet my parents in Dubrovnik, that I wasn't in, or_ _enjoying the now. I wasn't seeing the beauty around me, I wasn't swimming enough or relaxing enough, I_ _wasn't smiling enough and so what was the point really? I was among some of the most beautiful places in the_ _world, yet I gave them barely a moments notice, before I felt I had to force myself on. That is no way to live . . ._

So I continued, and resolved to spend the next four days chilling: Getting up late if I wanted, walking 25km maximum and resting often. I headed up the hill before me and into a pass, there I came upon a fruit stall in a lay-by. I chatted with the guy there for a bit and he gave me four pieces of fruit for free, then as I walked off he waved me back and added a beer to the mix! I was moved by his open generosity and happy kindness. I

followed the road and a little further ahead I found a most fantastic place to camp. Behind some rocks and boulders the hill climbed a little, and atop that small climb was a plateau, there flourished a lone olive tree and a

beautiful flower that I couldn't identify. I set my camp on the grass beneath the tree and watched the sun set as I swigged my beer and ate my fruit. I was very, very content. The valley which I had travelled through, lay there before me and it was glorious.

**Day 83**

What a wonderful sleep! I woke at dawn as usual but this time I decided to sleep in a little woooo luxury :) The lesson from yesterday had sunk in and I was back to living in the moment again. I was very happy and I thanked the Universe for it's love, patience and humour. When I felt like getting up–I did so, but instead of packing up camp straight away and moving out, I chilled for a little. I looked about me, I felt the breeze and the hum of the earth awakening. Then I ate breakfast and when I was ready, I packed up camp and moved on. I only needed to do about 20km a day from now on, there was no rush at all–it was so much better, so much less pressure. I no longer had to traipse all day long until exhausted! Just up the road I found a huge bar of Milka Oreo in the middle of the road! It was a little run-over, but not dirty at all and it was gorgeous–luxurious chocolate indulgence, what a thing to find! How had it got there? Did someone throw it out? If so–why? Ah well, it was mine now! I ate the whole damn thing because It felt good to do so. Also on the road that morning I found two pastries, one with cheese and the other with sausage (very fresh), water, iced tea, an unopened can of Pepsi and some cigarettes. Then I met two traveller guys on bikes going the opposite way. They were from the UK and I stopped to chat with them a while and shared my food and fags. I walked on and found some cheese in a bin and then boom–Another wallet in the road lol! The Universe was providing everything I needed to survive plus money now as well–bonus! There was 25 Croatian Kune inside, perfect timing since I had just run out of Kune yesterday! There was also another ID which I could possibly use in the future too.

I continued, and once more I noticed the high concentration of litter discarded along that beautiful area. It saddened and angered me so much, that I came up with a song about it:

Does she think that it'll melt in the morning,

Or float away on a breeze that comes from on-high?

Up to those factories in the sky.

Does he think that it is not his problem,

Can he really be that fuckin blind?

There's no factories in the sky.

No factories in the sky . . .

There are verses too but they need some tweaking first, they will tell the story of different people dumping litter in different ways in different places, like a pick-up truck driver dumping in a forest, or a couple throwing trash from their car. (Copy write 2017 MossDogg baby!)

I came across a gorgeous little bay right by the road and stopped for a wonderfully relaxing swim. This was the life. I couldn't believe I had let myself get so consumed by the goal and forgot what I was doing and to enjoy it. I had to thank the Universe again–I was so overjoyed and thankful. Oh my god! I inspected the wallet a little more closely and found that it actually belonged to one of the English guys that I met earlier! They were long gone by then though so I decided that I would mail him the contents (minus the Kune) when I got back to the UK. I continued walking along and was extremely shocked to find a boarder patrol up ahead where none was shown on my map (it was a shitty map though). It turned out to be the tiny coastal section of Bosnia and Herzegovina that had shouldered itself into Croatia back in the 90's, in exchange for peace after the war that split up what was then Yugoslavia. _(There is a lot more to it than that, I am no historian but this is the gist of_ _what I was told by locals. This war was incredible–brothers fighting brothers, and the people of all the_ _territories involved are still coming to terms with what happened. Yet we are not taught about it in school–this_ _is crazy! It happened only a little while ago and it seems to have been swept under the carpet.)_

I walked into the boarder control area. A very hot police officer chick stepped out to meet me, she must have been used to taking a lot of shit from men that came through there, because she was prickly as hell from the go.

She told me to put a top on and when I asked her where the signs were that requested I do that, she threatened to give me a ticket. What a load of shit! That's why I hate power . . . What gave her the right to force me to do something as trivial and as pointless as that? I put my top on and looked into her eyes, she really was extremely hot. She let me through without further hassle, and I entered Bosnia & H.

I found that area of Bosnia & H. to be utterly disgusting. _I'm sorry, I don't like to be negative, and always try_ _to find some good to say about most places–but seriously, the litter there was somehow even worse than in_ _Croatia. It was everywhere and in huge quantities, like people simply didn't give a flying fuck about the world_ _at all. I find that to be one of the most thoughtless and vile things that a populace can do._ The town itself–

Neum, had a couple of stupidly crowded beaches and lots of shops. It was clearly popular because it was cheap, hence all the litter: People would come to visit, hit the shops and the beach, and then throw all their rubbish from their cars as they left–pure consumers through and through, only interested in what they can get and none of the consequences. Everyone in the shops and on the streets were sizing each other up, wondering whether a deal could be struck and money could be made. I hated that place and walked briskly through. I stopped just after Neum at a little beach but it was disgusting–litter floated in the water and piles of it had been washed up on the shore. Oil made rainbows on the surface of the water and a pungent smell was in the air. I swam to cool down since I was so terribly hot, but then moved on quickly.

By mid afternoon I had done the necessary 20km so I walked on slowly and looked for a camp. Nothing . . .

Not a single place there was suitable. I ended up doing another 10km and my feet started to kill but I couldn't stop until I found a camp. I ended up crossing back into Croatia through the southern border. I noticed immediately that the concentration of litter went down–it was still bad there, but it was markedly better than Bosnia & H. Apart from the rubbish, the environment was stunning: The land itself was verdant and green, the road followed closely the coast, islands of rolling forest were to my right, only about 500m of sea separating them from my side, they looked like unexplored sanctuaries–little sausage islands full of secrets. Some were inhabited and little stone buildings peeked out from the trees, others looked totally wild. On the mainland, little towns sheltered in the many bays down that coastal stretch. I even saw an old castle on one of the islands, now that would be awesome to explore! Eventually, following the long, hot road, I found a camp in a small copse of trees that led to a hidden beach. Under a pine tree on a bed of needles I was just about able to lay my hammock and sleep.

**Day 84**

So, last night I was attacked . . . I was hidden well, or so I thought. First I heard lots of rustling, but they were clever–the rustling was not constant and thus I thought it just the wind. Next thing I knew they were all about me, four or five of them. One jumped onto my bag and started trying to gnaw it's way through, it must have smelt the food within. Yes–they were rats. Big, hairy, mother-fudging rats. The little bastards harassed me all night long. Every few minutes I would hear the rustling as they approached, and then they would be about me and trying to get into my bag, so I would lash out and scare them off and then try to sleep again. But they didn't give up. The problem was that they were nocturnal and I was not, so while I got increasingly tired–they got increasingly bolder. I ended up getting almost no sleep at all thanks to them and I was absolutely knackered once the sun came up. Ah well I thought, what could I do–sleep all day? I decided to hit the day hard and to make some energy, lets do this, I said to myself!

I de-camped and scurried off. Along the road I had two cars (well, one car and one bus) stop and ask me if I wanted a lift–such kind people! I cheerfully thanked them but declined, stating my quest. I did about 12km that morning and got to Doli, a little beach town just off the main road . . . Or rather–1.7km from the main road! I really needed to rest and wanted to swim and that was the first place that I had come across with a beach, so I made the trek. It was worth it–sort of. Doli was a strange old hamlet that appeared to have been a productive port, but had not long ago fallen into dereliction. The old fish plant was abandoned as were a few houses but there were still a few small boats in the little marina. It was almost deserted when I arrived so I dumped my bag and dived into the sea. After I was rested, I hiked back up the very steep hill to the road and continued.

_Fun fact–these are the most littered items that I found along my way across all the countries:_

1 – Cans/bottles/cartons for drinks

2 – Fag packets

3 – Confectionery wrappers/food wrappers

4 – Cd's!

5 – Nappies (dammit people!)

I did another eight km on the number 8 road, and so I had achieved my quota for the day. I bumped into some travellers from the Netherlands as I was looking through some bins, they were in a nice camper and noticed my foraging. They called me over and offered me coffee and a sandwich and we shared some chatter. Gerrie and Harrie–they were lovely! Once I had rested a while with them, I took their email and then took my leave. Not far along the road–about 10km before Banici, I found a fantastic camp on a secret beach. Nobody was in the wonderful little bay I found, it was just me and Croatia. The bay itself was covered with little warm pebbles and bordered both south and north with rocks. In the southern rocks I found where I would camp that night: Set back in the rocks was a little shelf about six feet from the waters edge, it was covered in the little pebbles and surrounded by rock walls, to the far end was an old olive tree. It was utterly perfect, literally about 10feet long, three feet wide and totally hidden. I set my things down there and began preparing a fire, since I had seen all manner of limpets, urchins and muscles which would make for a fine sea dinner. I collected driftwood and also a stack of bamboo which I lay upon the pebbles to form a kind of, rush mattress. Once I had a fire set up and ready to light I went swimming.

It was fantastic, I was totally alone in the wide ocean. Utter peace. I collected my bounty of shell fish as I swam, and then went back to camp to start the fire and cook. I had cooked limpets and things in England many times and had never had any trouble, but there I found it to be a bit of a disaster! The fire went well but I was unable to effectively handle the shellfish from the fire (I had no tongs), and I lost a few to the sea as they fell from the shells. Also, with the urchin–I knew it was edible but I had no idea how to prepare it or what parts I could eat . . . It meant that I gingerly ate some orange things from one, but I was unable to cook the others and so I put them back into the sea. I did my best, but it wasn't the feast I had hoped for–still–it was fun and I got some well needed proteins. I chilled out, meditated and watched the sun set before retiring for bed a very happy man.

**Day 85**

I had a pretty good sleep for a stony, reedy bed! I was up at the usual dawn time and had one of the best mornings of my entire life . . . I opened my eyes and saw the sea in dawn's soft light. It was still and flat and totally mine. I rose from my bed and stretched a little, drank some water, got naked, and walked slowly into the warm waters of the bay before me. I stood up to my nose in the water, arms out to my sides so that my eyes were almost level with the surface–It was total peace, total centeredness. I thanked the universe over and over for giving me such a morning, and to be alive to see such a morning. I felt so lucky, it filled me with joy. The sun didn't come out though, it was an overcast morning and so I took a while to dry out. I chilled in my camp until I felt ready–no rush, then I made tracks.

I only did a few km then I rested, then I did another few and rested again. In this manner, I covered about 12km until rain started to fall upon me and I was forced to shelter beneath my tarp and take lunch. I had the feeling that it would rain most of the day and so when that first patch passed, I gingerly packed up the tarp and continued, keeping an eye on the skies. After another hour I heard thunder nearby, the road there was just: Bay, curve, bay, curve with no places to camp at all, but luckily–just ahead–was a town, the first one for about 10km–Brsecine. I hurried my way up the hill towards it and arrive just in the nick of time, it started to pelt it down–fat dollops of chilly water. I made a bee-line for a big, abandoned old house just off the road. I found that I couldn't get into it but next door was a smaller, derelict cottage with an open door which I entered.

The little cottage had been abandoned for sometime, but It was not all smashed up like most abandoned places, It was relatively tidy and I explored it, opening the shutters to let light in as I went. I found that the ground floor would make a perfect camp for the night, there was small room with a dusty old sofa that was just right for my hammock to lay on! The sofa would need a clean and so would the floor, but it was a brilliant

place. There was a tiny old kitchen and a loo downstairs as well, upstairs belonged to a gigantic bat! He hung dominantly in the centre of the master bedroom and I had no desire to disturb him, preferring to hopefully see him in flight later on. Back down stairs I found an old brush and swept the leaves and dust from the floor of my camp room as the storm continued to rage outside. Flashes of lightning lit up the little house and thunder shook it to its very core–it was awesome! Once the floor was clean I brushed down the sofa too, finding mouse droppings there but not too many, there was a hole in the base of the sofa that looked to have been where they had chewed through and made a home, but they were no longer inside–they had probably moved in and then exhausted the food supply a while ago, and thus moved on. I decided to take no chances however, I definitely didn't want a repeat of the rat apocalypse from the other night! So I hung my food bag from the light fitting in the ceiling so that it wouldn't entice any critters that may, or may not hang about there. There was also a freaky looking old wardrobe in the room, which I had to open the doors of so as to make it less freaky-looking for me!

Once I was finished and was all set up, the room was very cosy indeed, I even found and old candle and by it's light, I smoked a cigarette and enjoyed the power of the storm which was still in force outside. Once tired, I got into my bed and was soon dosing off. I was awoken not long after by a shock–into my room had flown the huge bat from upstairs and he was careening wildly all over the place! I had earlier shut the door by which I had entered and that must have thrown the bat's flight paths out of whack, hence him being a little disorientated and unable to exit properly–whoops! I hurried out of bed and opened the front door for him, he zipped out in an instant into the night, what a magnificent creature and how blessed I was to see him fly so close! I went back to bed and slept until I was shocked into waking again! This time by a mangy old cat, who had climbed in through the window and was about to enter, when he noticed me in his pad! He let out a terrific, high pitched scream which woke me and we stared at each other for a moment. I apologised to him since I must have been in his place, but I told him I wasn't about to leave, saying instead that he could come in and we could share. I think he was rather put-out by that notion though, for he haughtily exited back into the night.

**Day 86**

Last night was amazing–such a fun camp. The Universe provided me with everything I needed and in perfect timing: Shelter from the storm, a brush to clean up, a candle for light, a bed and a cool bat friend upstairs! As the storm raged outside, I was warm and cosy inside having one of the best dreams of my life–all about making music and it was incredible! I was becoming more and more amazed at what the Universe could do, it seemed to have no limits if I was open enough. Thus I felt great today, my legs were happy as well! I ate breakfast, chilled and then, when ready I thanked the house and left. It was a nice day and I walked to Zaton, which was only about 2km from Dubrovnik, there I took a quick dip in the sea to cool off and found six slices of pizza in a bin which was awesome! I then decided to enter Dubrovnik. It looked absolutely gorgeous on approach, I found a tourist info place in the port area, and there managed to get a list of a few hostels in the city from a total bitch who was behind the counter (I got round her in the end). I was impressed by all the lovely little park areas within Dubrovnik, there was a lot of green and it seemed a well laid out, comfortable place. It looked like most of the green was concentrated on the western corner and so I imagined that I would probably end up there for my camp later that evening if I didn't find a hostel for cheap enough–the first place I found wanted 35E for one night! More than some hotels–WTF?!

As I was wandering to the next hostel on my list I met two backpacker girls and asked them whether they knew of a cheap hostel there. They gave me a card for somewhere near the old town and told me they were charging 20E a night which was acceptable. It was pretty far away, on the other side of town to where I would be meeting my parents tomorrow but c'est la vie hey! I walked on, Dubrovnik was bustling, it's inner marina area was lovely–filled with a wide array of new and old ships, with parks and benches and eateries all over. The new city curled around the marina in a backwards 'c' shape, there was lots of noise and colour but it didn't overwhelm me like most big cities, there was a nice space to it all–I quite liked it actually! The people were also very friendly and there were lots of travellers there. About half way to the old town, a guy with a rucksack stopped me and asked _me_ for information on hostels! His name was Niko and he was from south America, I explained that I was searching myself, and that we could club together if he wanted to. He agreed with a smile and we headed off.

The Universe clearly wanted me to stay in a hostel, because up to that point I was pretty much resigned to camping in the woods since the prices were so high, and the distance too much. I had 200Kune and now that I was with Niko, it meant that we could maybe cut a deal with a hostel for both of us. We saw a hostel signposted

just off the main drag and we decided to check it out. I talked with Mario–the owner, who was quite a character and we settled on a good price for me and Niko in an eight bed dorm–Exactly 200Kune a night each, which totally cleaned me out of Croatian dosh, Sweet!

It was so bloody fantastic to take my pack off and wander around without it for a while! I chilled out for a bit in the hostel while Niko went to take some pictures about town. I went through my pack and separated about 3kg worth of things that I didn't need, those items I would give to my parents when they came, and they would take them back to England with them. Any less weight in my pack was a major blessing! The sun went behind grey clouds and the day became overcast and chilly, some other dude came into the room and we began a very interesting conversation about Croatia and life. His name was Roy and he told me of how he came from rural, northern Croatia but there were zero jobs there, thus he had to come right down to Dubrovnik and stay in a hostel for three months and then return home. That was how he lived his life–only seeing his wife and kids for a quarter of the year. He described the poverty in rural Croatia which is totally hidden from the touristic, coastal areas, it made me think . . .

Poverty is when people don't have enough to eat, but that guy was going on about no money or jobs and describing _that_ as poverty, I was unsure. The rural areas of Croatia which I had travelled through (East of Zadar mainly) seemed fine–people herding goats, making cheese and honey and growing figs, plums and other things in abundance. Yes it was a simple, rural existence, but nobody was starving–I didn't see a single beggar except in the urban areas. Of course–if people want _money,_ then they must find a way to make it, and for most–that is a job. There can't ever be enough jobs though as far as I was aware, that would be impossible, especially with the advances in technology and machinery making many workers obsolete. My mind was mulling it all over

without conclusion–if there was truly poverty there and people were starving, then they should surely work the land which was rich and fertile in order to provide food, rather than try and find a job so that they can earn money, food is the important thing surely. If what he was saying was true then it seemed to me that the mindset of the people was in the wrong place, it seemed that getting money was the goal when it should have been sustaining themselves? Perhaps seeing other people or countries with money had made them jealous?

Money is such a strange thing, it provides no lasting happiness, yet people covert it so much–they seem to think it will end all their woes, fulfil all their dreams and make their lives great. We need to change this people.

Money is not the answer–money is the problem! I had many questions that I wanted to ask him, but I began to feel that I was annoying him slightly with them and so I was silent. It made me think of what it was to be British, I realised that there, I was probably seen as a 'rich English guy,' travelling with money that I had saved and not caring at all about the real issues. I saw that I was very lucky to have been brought up in England, since we do have it a lot easier there. The world is unfairly set up, how can a few small places have most of the wealth and power? I felt bad–as an English man I could see that I had access to so much more, true–to me it was all superfluous, but it wasn't to the people who didn't have it, to them it was everything. What gave me the right to have that 'more?' I didn't want to have 'more' than anyone else, I felt bad for it. Why had the balance of money and power ended up as it had done? Why couldn't it be equal? Was it war? Was there any chance of ever balancing it? Food for thought . . .

The hostel was cool. I had a small yellow bed in the corner of the dorm. I was really looking forward to seeing my parents tomorrow, I was determined to come across as cool and in control, healthy and positive so that they would worry less about me, and I could be more free. I was really looking forward to showing them just how centred and peaceful I had become, since walking out from their front door almost three months ago. I talked again with Roy, this time he told me all about the war in the 90's which had torn Yugoslavia apart, and how refugees from Croatia were treated: Families warring, factories and industry destroyed etc. It was incredible to hear it from someone that had actually live through it. His wife was Bosnian and that meant even more trouble for them both. We then talked of the universe and I discovered that he felt very similar to how I did on the whole thing, he told me to look into 'Bio-energy' which his grandad had practised, I was pretty sure the Universe had led me there in order to meet him and talk as we did. At dinner time, Mario came and asked if I wanted to see something cool? I followed him to the kitchen area where he and two other guys were cooking.

One of the guys was a fisherman and had brought in some of his catch to cook and share, there were two amazing fish with humongous mouths–I believe they were monk fish, he showed me how to prepare them and how to use the bones in a soup too. I didn't eat any since there was not enough, and after all the talk on poverty I felt so bad about taking anything, but we shared cigarettes and chatter. After a bit I excused myself and went to bed as I was so tired.

**Day 87**

I got up at seven, took breakfast, and then headed off. It was a drizzly morning and I walked slowly through the city, watching it prepare for the day. I arrived at my parents hotel about nine and asked whether they had checked in yet. They said they were expected at around 11, and so I waited in the lobby out of the rain–I got a few funny looks since I was still in my stinky cheesecloth vest and short-shorts, but they didn't chuck me out.

After waiting a couple of hours my parents arrived. I couldn't wipe the smile from my face, I was really happy to see them. My mum cried and my dad hugged me lots. We caught up over some lunch in the hotel and I told them everything thus far. We then went to their room and on the way I spied a plate of fruit outside someone's door, on a pile of used crockery. To my amazement, mum pointed to it and said, 'Go for it!' she must have read my mind and gave me the go ahead to loot it! This was a first–my parents had always hated the fact that I ate from bins, and chose a survival existence rather than got a job and a flat and was 'safe'. I didn't need a second signal though and I took all that was there to eat later on, mum even put it in her bag for me! We chatted some more in their room and then we decided to head to the old town of Dubrovnik, since mum was a big 'Game of thrones' fan, and she really wanted to see the sets there. We took a bus and got there half an hour later.

It was absolutely packed! Throngs of tourists all snapping away, were led down every street and alleyway the old town had. Every church was full, every restaurant packed–it was incredible. Mum and dad hated it and we didn't spend long there before dad called a halt and we made an exit. I wasn't that surprised–they were knackered since they had been travelling from four in the morning, it was something that should be done another day. We got a taxi back to the hotel and had a swim in the sea together. It was really nice, my parents loved the views and the sea so I was pleased, I was worried that they might be too hot and board, but they seemed OK. We then took dinner and then rested in their room a little. As I was about to leave and go make camp in the woods nearby, dad amazed me by suggesting I stay on their balcony on the sun lounger there. That was a big risk for my dad, he is very upstanding and hates to break the law or the rules, so for him to suggest that was a very big deal and I whole-heartedly agreed to it. I set up my stuff on the balcony and we went to bed.

**Day 88**

Sleeping on the balcony was fun but I was plagued by mosquito's all night long. Because I couldn't properly string my hammock netting up, they were able to bike the hell outta me too, but it was OK–I was just happy to have a place so near to my parents. We went for an amazing buffet breakfast in the hotel (the best thing about staying in a hotel I reckon!), then I got to speak with my sister and grandad over dad's phone. After that, I rested for a while as breakfast went down, and chatted with mum and dad before I left. They were nervous about me going again, but I think they were a bit happier for seeing me and seeing that I was doing fine. My pack was so much lighter since giving my parents the excess crap, I had also thrown away my walking boots since they had worn right through and I was now wearing a flimsy old pair of trainers which I had found in a bin–I was going to miss those boots, but I would give the trainers a go and see if they could cope! We said our goodbye's and I headed out onto the road once more–To Greece!

I walked about 20km in all, then I had to stop. I should have taken my dad's advice and got some proper walking boots when I had the chance in Dubrovnik, but I wanted to test out the trainers, so I didn't. There was nowhere after D'nik where I could buy boots, I was stuck with the trainers and, as I found out after just a few km–they were definitely not up to the task: They didn't support or protect my feet at all, and thus my feet were in extreme pain–waaaa! I was also pretty tired since the last two night's had not been so good for sleeping, as well as that, I also had something wrong with the heel of my right foot–there were weird black things embedded under the skin, they looked like splinters and there were loads of them. I thought perhaps it was rubber from my old boots that had broken down and got pushed into the skin? Whatever they were, they were causing immense pain and annoyance and I was unable to get them out. Nothing I could do though, I wasn't going to quit cos me feet hurt, the Universe had sent me a few signs to affirm my direction: Coins mainly–so that was good. I decided to camp up since I had stopped and since my feet were so bad, I got to just past the airport at Clipi and found a hidden place, there I set camp, put some Germolene on my feet, and got an early night, hoping that my heel healed (lol) and that tomorrow I would find boots–please Universe!

**S**

**eptember 9 th -14**

**th 2016. M**

****

**onte Negro**

**Day 89**

I got a much needed, great night's sleep. I got up with the dawn and hit the road. I walked in 3-4km stints and rested a lot, but the trainers were definitely hampering my progress a lot. After 15km I arrived at the boarder to Monte Negro and my feet were destroyed. There was a queue of cars about half a mile long waiting to get through, which I wasn't about to tag onto. I boldly walked straight past everyone and through the boarder gates as if I was in charge of it all. No one stopped me until I was past the passport checks, then a dude with a gun hollerred at me and I thought I had better stop. He waved me to the passport checking office and I said, "Ohh!"

as if I had no idea what I needed to do, Ha ha! They fell for it and asked for my passport, which I duly produced with a flourish. Checked, stamped and waved through, I crossed into Monte Negro! I was quite apprehensive about travelling Monte Negro, I hadn't heard anything at all about it and I imagined it to be quite rough and inhospitable. My first impressions of it were very different though–it looked absolutely amazing! I noticed immediately that there was much more fresh water there, I saw streams all over the place, sparkling and free, and where I couldn't see streams, I heard them–gurgling behind walls or hidden in forests. The good water supply meant that the land was lushly coated in all manner of flora, in a most healthy and happy way. After the extreme dryness of Croatia I had expected M.N to be even dryer, this was a very pleasant surprise. As I descended the hills towards the sea, M.N was laid out before me and it was beautiful, I was very excited indeed.

I found some marzipan in a bin and munched away on that for a while, the bins in M.N seemed to be very good, so far anyway. I had yet to find a supermarket and I was eager to see whether I could busk there too. The litter situation was better there as well which pleased me immensely, and another bonus was that there were more fountains with cool, free water in towns–this was a great place to travel! I soon came to Herceg Novi, a wonderful little town which was built on the cliffs and slopes hugging the sea. It was really quaint, busy like a big town will always be, but small and intimate too. The old town area was exquisite, with an amazing old church and walls on the topmost point, and little pedestrianised walks all about it, lots of really cool old stone-work everywhere too, but no boots in the small sports shops that I found. Ah well, I reasoned–I had already done about 25km so I needn't walk any more, perhaps I would find boots in Kotor on the other side of the beautiful inland sea–the bay of Kotor (a world heritage site). Or perhaps not? It was a lovely sunny afternoon, my supply situation was good and so I decided to get out of the town and find a place to camp. Interestingly, the lettering there looked very like Russian with its backwards N's and Q's and things, also they seemed very fond of the star as a symbol there too, and the busts all looked stern and kinda Russian too. I don't know, but it seemed very ex-communist? Not that I was judging, It was just something that I noticed.

Low and behold I came across a big sports shop as I was leaving Herci Novi–sweet! They only had one pair of walking boots which weren't great, but they were my size and anything was better than the crappy old trainers I had! I bought those and threw my trainers, put them on and continued–Much better! I eventually made a very dodgy camp on a roadside hill. There were ants absolutely everywhere so I hung my hammock, it was the best that I could do in the area, there was very little space to camp there since it was kind of like a riviera–village after village, all right on the water and only one road going along. I probably walked about 30km in the end that day, I had no idea as to the time when I finally made camp, but it felt late! My food situation was now OK but it was mainly bread products and chocolate–not a great diet! I was feeling good though and I went to sleep happy.

**Day 90**

I still found it difficult to get comfortable in my hammock if it was hung up–I much preferred sleeping on the ground now, how strange after so long of loving the hammock hanging up! It rained a little in the night and the morning was overcast, but onwards–I began my walking! There was a ferry port that I could see in the distance at Kamenari, which was transporting people across the small gap at the mouth of the bay, if I was to use that ferry it would save me two or three days walking, I was so sad as I walked past it–I tried not to look! I knew that I wanted to finish the journey asap, I felt that I had attained the things I wanted to attain, but I had to be patient–not long to go. I reckoned on one week there in M.N followed by two weeks to get through Albania. I was so close! I walked from Denovici to Bijela that morning, I began to think that M.N must have been a mix of Muslim and Catholic, since I was seeing a lot of Mosques and Churches wherever I went. Once more I made a vow to ditch my day bag which had mysteriously reappeared . . . I reminded myself that I should be trusting

the Universe more and not worrying about food. I also had a few Euro's left from before and so I could always use those if things got tight.

Once I was past the temptation of the ferry port, I turned a corner and the bay opened up into a magnificent inland sea. I was so glad that I had decided to stick with it and go the long way round, because it was magnificent! To the north, the mouth of the bay opened into a wing-nut shaped sea-water lake. I was unable to see the left or right parts of it at that point due to the gorgeous, multi-coloured hills on either side of me, but directly opposite the opening of the bay lay Perast, at the foot of a giant hill–almost a mountain she lay, upon the shore looking like a rose-topped pearl–absolutely exquisite. I gazed across and imagined what it was going to be like there, I would know soon. The sea was clear and perfectly tepid and I stopped for a quick dip and some food. After moving on, I followed the road along the waters edge through strp and on towards Risan. Just before I got to Risan I noticed a big cave next to the road (Sopot), I love caves–I had to explore! I dumped my day sack on the ground and retrieved my trusty wind-up torch from my rucksack, there were a few people already in there but it wasn't officially 'manned' or anything. The cave was awesome, it was strewn with boulders and went about 100m in, along a flat channel. It was obviously very dark and none of the other people there had torches, so they could only get about 50m in with the natural light. Me, I continued, winding my torch constantly as I went (my torch goes out otherwise), and by its pitiful light I was able to explore further.

It was huge! The initial corridor led to a massive chamber that looked like it was full of water, I wasn't sure and so I threw a stone: Nothing for about two seconds then a 'chink' as it hit solid ground. So not a lake–a chamber. I looked for a way down into it and found a set of old, crumbled steps. I left my rucksack at the top of the steps and descended further. Some time ago it must have been lit up and touristy because there was an old hand rail, and old lantern lights on the ground. It was wet here and there but not too slippery and I kept on going, the blackness swallowed me up, my little torch provided only a thin light that extended a few pitiful meters. It was absolutely amazing, it kept going and going, once I reached the bottom of the steps I dropped down off a shelf into another big chamber, I was very surprised that there were no bats there, or evidence of bats–there were no bat droppings on the ground at all, the cave seemed to be lifeless. My footsteps echoed from the walls as I hopped from rock to rock. I found that I had reached the floor of the second chamber, there was a large 'puddle' of freezing water at the bottom and a small squeeze which looked like it led further still. I stopped for a moment to have a think–did I continue through the squeeze and beyond?

I looked at my torch and the light that it gave: It was pathetic, but it was light. I wondered what it was like without it. I switched the torch off. Blackness–so complete and utter that it was as if I was blind, my god! I realised then that if not for my torch I was utterly fucked! There was simply no way I would ever be able to find my way–there was nothing to distinguish left from right, no glimmer in the distance, nothing. Shit I thought–

what if my torch died right now? I decided that the best course of action was not to go any further, I decided to get out, as I should not be attempting this kind of cave without at least a back up torch, and maybe some string or something. I turned around and retraced my steps back to the dead end . . . Wait, what? That wasn't there before? I had followed my path exactly, hadn't I? I went back to the puddle and got my bearings. Once I was totally sure of where I had come from, I headed off again and I came to the same dead end . . . Shit, I thought.

My legs began to shake a little, and my steps became jerky and hurried, I tried to slow down but all I could hear was my heart thumping. I stepped in some soft, sandy mud–I didn't remember that being there. I began to find it very difficult to breath, nothing looked right, I kept returning to the puddle but then losing my orientation. I was panicking, I realised–that was how easy it was to get trapped in a cave, that was how people died in caves. I could see myself falling in my panic, breaking my ankle, crying out for hours with no response, slowly starving to death, a skeleton for future explorers to discover . . . Stop panicking, I scolded myself! "That doesn't help you at all." I said. I told myself to breath. I paused and breathed a little slower. The way out was there somewhere–I would find it. I tried again from the puddle and this time I saw a broken step hidden in the far wall, it had been impossible to see due to the angle since I was now below it–it was the shelf that I had dropped off of! I clambered back up, found the steps and my bag, and breathing hard, I made my way back into the topmost corridor. I saw a tinge of light–the exit, I had made it! Once outside in the sun again, I sat for a minute and just breathed. I was honestly so thankful to be alive, it was an incredible experience, but I vowed never ever to explore deep caves again without a backup torch and some way to mark the route!

Once I had recovered, I headed out through Risan to Perast. Perast marina was a very nice, small and friendly town, very picturesque. Taxi-boats offered to take me to one of the two tiny islands, upon which had been built

a Mosque and a Church respectively. Restaurants lined the waterfront but I couldn't eat. I was extremely tired though it was still just early afternoon. I continued walking and made good progress, now on the other side of the 'wing-nut' heading toward Kotor. I met a guy on a bike called Sebastian who asked me if I like to get naked?! I said yes I do–in the sea! But I didn't fall for his advances lol! After another hour I made camp in a very nice, hidden patch. It was a ground camp so I was pleased, there were mosquito's but my netting was up so it was all good. I had gotten rid of the day sack once more which pleased me greatly, I was shattered and sleep came quickly.

**Day 91**

It rained a bit in the night, but nothing too bad–I had a good rest. I got up just after dawn and continued the walk to Kotor, it was much further than it appeared but I just relaxed and walked on. I said hello ('Dobra da') to everyone that crossed my path, most people were really nice but one guy proved the exception: He was one of a group of three builders who were working on a driveway as I walked past, he seemed to hate the fact that I had said hello to him, and I could see straight away that he wanted to start some trouble. Maybe he was having a bad week, maybe he was frustrated, maybe he was just an asshole–either way–he wanted blood. He said 'What?'

and I repeated 'Dobra da.' his two mates had waved, so I knew he understood. He started laughing and saying some shit in native that I couldn't understand, I just went pfft, flexed, and carried on. I found it so odd why someone would react in such a way, I was angry about it for a while but as I walked on it dissipated. _I have no_ _time for such negative people. People who are negative like that, from the get-go, are just **wanting** to be_ _negative, all they will do to a positive spirit is corrupt you. Never get involved with such a person, not even to_ _try and help them, they don't actually want help, they just want to lash out at the world. Maybe one day they_ _will stop being dicks, but don't worry about it, it's their decision._

Kotor was lame, which was a real shame considering what a fantastic area it was in. The old town of Kotor however, was awesome! Once through the ancient walls I wandered for a while among the tiny, crooked streets of polished stone. It reminded me very much of a mini Barcelona or old town Dubrovnik, but with considerably less tourists–it was still busy, but not thronged. Military-style battlements and walls were built directly into the cliffs above the city, statues and faces and frescos, it was really cool! I found a pizza, some pastries with cheese in, and a bottle of pop as I exited the city and headed for the tunnel–the only way through the cliffs there.

Luckily there was no restriction for walking through the immense tunnel and so I waltzed right in. It was dark–

lit only by dull orange lamps, it stank of acrid smoke and there were dead cats all along it. The cats seemed to be entering the tunnel city-side, hunting for something and then getting caught by the constant, heavy traffic.

They then hid in the small alcoves along the sides of the tunnels and starved to death, it was pretty horrible to see. Once through the tunnel, signs told me that Bar was 50km away and Budva was 20km–nice! I found a baby tortoise which was the cutest thing ever (I had to let him go though, so I popped him down in some nice woodland) and then stopped for a cup of tea, since my feet were hurting. Tea was very cheap–1E! Once rested, I hit the road again towards Budva.

It seemed to me that Monte Negro had it right: All along the main road that I was travelling upon they had their industry and retail sites and no houses, which meant that the towns could focus more upon houses and amenities and staying pretty. For a walker though, it sucked a little as the roads between towns were long, boring and crap to look at. I carried on walking well into the afternoon and once past Jaz, I was almost at Budva and the coast so I started to look for a camp. I found a dark and wet forest but It didn't feel right so I pushed on, eventually I found my camp at a building site that looked to have been abandoned or stalled. It was right on the cliffs overlooking the wonderful coast and I set up on a roll of old carpet that was there. I ate dinner and had a smoke as the sun set upon the sea and I sat on the cliff edge. It was magnificent.

**Day 92**

I slept well, rain fell again in the night, this time with thunder and lightning but my tarp kept me dry. I got up early and packed my camp away, just in case the site I was on was not abandoned after all. I then began the walk down into Budva, in the valley just east of me. Budva was an older M.N town built around a wide bay with a fantastic, central island that looked just like a listing cruise liner–seriously! The original town was absolutely tiny, hidden away behind tan walls in the western tip of the sprawling new city. Even though the city was large, it was actually very nice, a lot of new building was taking place and it seemed to be gearing up to receive lots more tourist traffic in the near future. I could see why–it was a very nice combination of sea and

city, with wild countryside nearby. It was an overcast morning but it was warm still. I went along the promenade and found crepes with chocolate and nuts, a loaf of good brown bread and lots of drinks to choose from, all in all–a great breakfast! Next I went through Becici, another nice place with nice beaches, then on to Milocer where I thought I spied a cliff jump in the bay–I was knackered and hot anyway so I decided to go down and swim. I found a lovely, tiny beach with sand that was almost stone–the rough kind that sticks everywhere, but the sea was wonderfully warm and calm. I swam out and climbed the rocks where I had seen the jump, It was pretty small but I enjoyed it–landing amidst the fish and then swimming back to shore.

On I went after that, through an amazing forest of pine towards S.Stefan. The church bells sounded just as the sun came out from the clouds and it was magical. I saw a very special hidden-away spa resort in the forest which must cost a bomb to visit, but it looked so nice. I was filled with the beauty of that wonderful country, and just when I thought it couldn't get any better, I rounded a corner and gasped. The beach tapered out into a narrow spit of raised land that led out into the sea, it then blossomed into a tiny island, upon which stood the 15th century village of Aman Sveti Stefan. Consisting of only around 30 houses, a church and some trees, all packed neatly together like perfect origami, I knew I had found a hidden gem! I carried on and the next town (Sveti Stefan itself) blew me away too: Pristine houses, Cyprus trees and a gorgeous bay, it was heaven on earth. I continued next through Petrovac which had a nice beach, then Buljarica, calming my mind and settling into what looked to be a long, lonely walk up into the hills. It had become roasting and I lost my sense of reality a couple of times as I walked on. I wished that I could teleport myself through time to the future, where I would be at home, recovering from the journey after having completed it . . . I kept on going. I waved to future MossDogg and future MossDogg waved back to past MossDogg an hour later, when I got to the point that I had seen.

I stopped in a small shop where I bought some bread and sauce for later, and had a wonderful conversation with the girl working there. We talked about travel and dreams and all that, I like to think that I spurred her on a little. It reminded me of another interaction that I had earlier on in the day, in another small shop–The woman asked me what I was doing and as I told her, I watched all the signs of attraction blossoming, it was very interesting because then, I began to tell her how I was surviving on my travels–finding food in bins or on the road side, washing only in the sea, camping in the woods etc. She went from blatant attraction to blatant disgust–I found it hilarious! I actually got to watch her body language changing bit by bit: Her lips curled back slightly, her eyes widened as her nose crinkled, she took a step back and her hands came out between us lol.

The pain from my feet brought me back to reality, I had almost walked through Sutomore–a horrible little city and so I decided to find camp asap since Bar was now very close. In the end I found a place on a bed of pine needles (my favourite by now!) near to the railway tracks. I spent an hour trying to remove a small, dead tree stump from the centre of the camp with nothing but a blunt-edged rock. Sweat covered and exhausted half an hour later, I had to admit defeat and leave the stump where it was, deciding instead to cover the whole damn area with as many pine needles as I could, thus burying the stump . . . After an age, I finally finished camp, it was dark by that time, and I was worn out and I still had not even eaten, but I had camp. I ate and then got into bed. Once in however, I discovered the camps flaw–the ground sloped downwards way more than I thought, making my head was much lower than my feet and there was no way I could sleep like that. Cursing I turned over and rotated 180 degrees. Now my head was higher, so that was fine but the tarp that end was very low to the ground, so low that the netting was not raised and lay all over my face, which meant the mozzies had free reign . . . Shit! I was too tired and it was too dark to adjust it, coupled with the fact that it was still baking hot, I didn't predict a good sleep.

**Day 93**

I didn't get much sleep at all and I was already awake when dawn began. I took it as my cue, de-camped and struck out for Bar. On the way I stopped for a rest and a bite to eat just after Ratac, some guy came over and asked if I was gay and did I fancy going to the nudist beach with him?! I was flattered but declined, I guess the short-shorts were working their magic! What a shit-hole Bar was! There was a massive church/mosque thing all covered in gold which was awful, the city itself was huge, sprawling and unfriendly. It was clean enough, but it had a seedy sort of feeling about it, the people were really 'in-your-face'. I got some food for later and then headed out via the closest exit. I found that I had hit the main road (the E851) which would take me to Ulcinj, I needed to head for Kruta however, which meant taking a country road to the east at some point. After Kruta I would pick up the E851 which would then take me all the way to the boarder of Albania!

It was mega frikin hot and the road was mainly uphill, it was hard going but it was gorgeous. I got to Zaljevo–

up in the mountains. There were grapes in gardens alongside the road that were so fat and juicy, I had to take a bunch :) Also there were pomegranates and cool spring water ran in a channel alongside the road–I was well provided for! _The people of Monte Negro are terrible drivers BTW–they honk a lot and they honk if they get_ _honked! They cut each other up and seem to have no regard for the highway code and all that. Beware if_ _driving there. Take care._ I didn't think it was possible, but it was getting hotter, walking was very tough. I think I had athletes foot–there were cuts in the joints of my right little toe and they seemed to be opening up, very sore too. I came to the country road that I needed to take (not numbered) and so struck out east.

I was soon totally exhausted–the road went on forever but it was gorgeous, it wound through the rich and verdant rural hillsides, up and up. At one point I heard a loud rustle in the bushes next to me and then a plop! A massive snake had fallen from the bush onto the road and was looking straight at me! I was pretty sure it was a slow worm since it had a very odd shaped head and a 'knowing' look in it's eyes, but it was the biggest slow worm I had ever seen! I tried to shoo it off of the road and back into the bushes but it didn't take too kindly to it, and so I had to give up and walk on (I wished it luck though). A little later a big flock of sheep emerged from another hedge (the shepherd was nowhere in sight), they then proceeded to casually block the road! I got through, but several cars were stopped and a cacophony of honking and shouting began as I walked on.

Pomegranates, figs, grapes–all could be found in ripe abundance along that road that, yet I was finding it extremely hard to stay 'in the moment' and enjoy it. Being so very close to my goal had made me all the more aware that soon I would finish, soon I would rest! My feet were literally screaming at me and the thought of finishing and resting made me want to fall to my knees in tears of relief. But then I would realise that I had not yet finished, and that I still had some way to go–That was the hard part: Yanking myself back into the present and the sweltering heat . . .

I tried to rest as often as I could and to stay hydrated. I knew that I could only go as far and as fast as my body wanted, time was not important, I told myself to focus. I met a grizzled traveller who had slumped against a wall for a rest, he had a big staff and was smoking a rollie. He asked me if I was going to Albania, to which I replied that I was, we didn't understand each other after that but we waved, and I'm pretty sure we wished each other good luck. I guessed that meant I was pretty close to the boarder? I crested a hill and beyond lay a massive valley and then mountains, I was pretty certain that the boarder was in those mountains somewhere. I kept on walking and then all of a sudden the road I was on was joined from the right by a major road.

According to my map this was incorrect, was I lost? I had asked for directions earlier and the guy had told me that Krota was 23km away, I had only done about 5km so that couldn't be Krota, unless the guy had meant that the boarder was 23km away, thus the place I had come to was indeed Krota? I saw a sign nearby–it was Krota!

What a surprise! Essentially I had just teleported 10km _(only in my head of course)!_ Having 10km suddenly vanish from what I believed I had to walk was a massive positive boost to me, I felt so much better and continued onwards with a lighter step.

I stopped for a rest at a big on-road diner sort of place, there I sat outside in some shade and ate my bread. A lovely black dog with white toes and beautiful brown eyes came over and sat with me a while. He had no tags but his teeth and coat were in very good health, was he a stray? I couldn't decide. I offered him some of my food but he wasn't interested, I guess he wanted meat, of which I had none. I began to chat with him a little and in an off-hand way I mentioned that he should come along with me, but I warned him that I was headed into Albania and then into Greece before flying back to my home in England, where he could not then follow. I left it at that and he rested as I ate. Then I walked off and yup–he followed me! I was worried though, since I primarily walked on the roadsides and there was often no curb and pavement. I needn't have worried at all though, that dog was the most streetwise thing I had ever seen! He knew exactly how to behave on the road and lorded it about as I was walking, checking this and that house out, sniffing and peeing on whatever he fancied.

He drank from puddles and I found him some meaty bones in a bin, I thought it a pretty cool partnership! I was flabbergasted really–he was so chilled, as I walked along he explored and came back when he felt like it.

As darkness set in I found an awesome camp in the grounds of an old, derelict mansion or hall of sorts. I had to climb the gate but 'Boner' (as I had named the dog) couldn't get through. I wrenched it open for him but he had already gone off somewhere else, I had no idea where. I continued and explored the place. It had big grounds set with many trees and small out-buildings, in the back corner under the trees, I cleared a patch and laid my camp. Ah well, it was for the best that 'Boner' had gone I thought, before we had struck up a friendship and got too attached. Once camp was set I heard a rustling and suddenly–Boner appeared! He sat by my side as

I chilled a bit before bed, he was so cool. I was about 5km from the boarder and well ready for Albania – my final hurdle! I lay down and slept with my friend laying just outside. Thanks Universe!

**S**

**eptember 14 th -22**

**nd**

**2016. A**

****

**lbania**

**Day 94**

I heard a rustling in the night but I was unsure how to react: Aggressive–in case a wandering dog or boar was near? Or friendly–in case it was Boner? I waited but the rustling ceased and I slept again. When I awoke there was no sign of Boner, I figured it was for the best since I was about to cross the boarder, but I was a little upset too–he was good company, he made me want to get a dog of my own! It was an overcast day, perfect for

walking those hot countries, the boarder was about 5km east and I set off. I soon came to it and passed through without any problems. I was very glad to finally see what Albania was like, since I had been harbouring a growing sense of unease about the country for a few days–It seemed fine, the Albanian people appeared friendly enough and my unease began to evaporate, no problem! There were two cafes literally on the boarder, and nothing else for as far as I could see. The cafe on the left looked to be a native Albanian cafe, while the one on the right was clearly for the tourists, with a big old coach car park and signs all in English. _I very rarely go_ _to the touristic side when a choice like this comes up, I much prefer going out of my comfort zone and trying_ _new things._ I went into the Albanian cafe and asked for some tea, I felt very much the outsider but the tea was cheap and hot. I saw a map there, it looked like 10 days worth of walking to make it through to the boarder in the south, a lot of the journey was along the coast too so I was pretty happy, come on Moss!

Well, I was wrong about the Albanian people being nice, but right about the unease! The Albanian cafe choice was a bad one that time–the guy brought me the tea and all was fine, then I ordered some food. After half an hour I asked him whether it was coming and if we had understood one another, he told me that it was. After another 15 minutes, and seeing other people get food that was exactly what I had asked for after just five minutes of them having sat down, I realised that I was being fucked with. I asked him how much longer and he replied,

"You eat that side." He then walked away.

It pissed me off majorly and I left seething, asshole! Rubbish was everywhere, worse than I had seen it anywhere thus far, it was dumped en-mass wherever people felt like it, including every single river I came across–a total and utter disregard for nature, it made me sick and even more angry. The skies cleared and the heat pressed in. I trudged along through the parched countryside, at least there was a nice gravel path on the side of the road–it was much nicer for my aching feet! I walked about 5km, there was nowhere to stop and rest at all, it all felt too dodgy. I felt like a target, everywhere I went the people would stare at me and sneer–there was no way I was setting my pack down. I was on guard, which was very rare for me. I finally managed to find a place hidden and shady enough to rest, it was right next to the wide, brown river. I then found out what the many tall, thin towers that looked like church steeples were, it must have been noon too cos the tower started to sing! There were speakers all the way up it and they blurted out a lovely Islamic-sounding, peaceful lament.

That was nice . . . Open sewers running parallel to the road, that was not nice . . .

I was beeped at a lot while walking alongside the roadsides there, not in a good way either, I was also shouted at a lot–dick heads. _I know that I'm not exactly painting the best picture of Albania ATM, but this was honestly_ _what it was like for me. I try not to judge anyone or any place too harshly, but so far–Albania deserved it._

_Sorry!_ There were amazing converted mopeds careening along the roads, the front ends had been turned into a kind of trolley, filled with all manner of things from fridges to families! The driver stood on a platform on the back of it and operated custom-made pedal and handles–it was ingenious but incredibly dangerous and No one wore helmets! The buses were all unmarked mini-buses that seemed to stop wherever they wanted, then cram as many people as they could in, and then trundle off in a cloud of smoke. I walked until about 5pm ish and then went into a hotel that I was passing to get a feel for prices. _I was pretty worried about freedom camping here_ _and since there were no hostels, hotels seemed the best bet._

It was 15E for a night which wasn't too bad–I could do that if I had to. I continued and found another hotel so I could compare, they were also asking 15E. It was now half six and I was totally knackered so I said yes to that, it also meant that I could eat there too–a hot meal, That would be a great thing indeed! All was good, we agreed on the 15E and I was left in the room. The guy then returned five minutes later and asked for my payment, I got a 50E note out since that was all I had in my stash, he looked at me dumbly and then told me that they didn't

have enough change to take my 50, he also told me that they don't take credit card . . . Really? I had a feeling I was being taken for a ride again–a hotel that didn't have 35E in the till or a credit card machine–bollocks! It was becoming apparent that the Albanian people did not like the English. C'est la vie I chimed to myself, and left the hotel.

It was now late in the afternoon and darkness was encroaching, I was in a country where I seemed to be discriminated against due to my nationality and I felt very vulnerable. I forced my panic aside and continued along the road. I was hungry now too, with no supplies save for my emergency muesli. I came across a street merchant who was selling vegetables. I bought two tomatoes with a 20 cent piece I had found and continued.

The sun began to set in a most beautiful reddy-pink and I was forced to make camp in a shitty little place I found, down a dirt track off the road. There were thorny plants and trees everywhere and poop from cattle, which begged the question: Would they return and trample on me in the night? It was hidden though and that was the main thing. The ground was infested with brambles and sharp, spiny plants, I had to rip out most of them before laying my hammock down or I wouldn't sleep at all. I couldn't string my tarp up properly due to the lack of trees and had to make do with a half tarp above me, I just hoped that it wouldn't rain.

**Day 95**

I had to battle with mosquito's for most of the night, it was swelteringly hot and thus I couldn't cover myself, but that obviously made the mozzies go nuts! Eventually it cooled down a little and I was able to get into my bag where finally I could sleep. I got up early so as not to be caught my any farmers or cattle around there and then hit the road quickly. I wanted to get to Lezhe today, there I could hopefully pick up a map from a tourist office and change up some Euro into Leke, then hopefully the hotels would be more inclined to grant me a room. After last night I was desperate for a good sleep. I didn't feel so on-edge today, I had done a free camp and so I knew that I could if I had to out there, also I had completed a day and it was only going to be a few more such days until I was finished–no worries! The morning glistened with dew, all my kit and clothing was damp, damn! I walked south-easterly, as the sun rose on my left, the fog in front of me made the far away buildings look like a 3d picture, made up of contrasting layers of greyscale–it was really pretty. I completely zoned out as I walked along 6km of pure, straight road. Corpses of stray dogs baked in the sun and left just a smell behind. Farm hands collected hay. My feet soon had enough and I had to stop. I got a tea and some food at a nice little place on the roadside, I had no idea if I had been overcharged or what, there was no menu or price list or whatever . . . Then again, I was just pleased to have eaten well, so be it.

'Shitet' I found, means 'for sale' in Albanian. Thus I saw tons of cars along the roadside with word 'Shitet'

written in big letters on cardboard left in their dash. It gave the impression that they were abandoned due to being bloody awful, and I amused myself by picturing their owners dumping them in anger–maybe kicking a tyre as they left, lol! My mind-state was pretty good considering, the initial culture shock had worn off and I knew what I had to do: Keep pushing. I did 10km more and arrived in Lezhe, what a total piece of shit that was!

There was no town map and so I couldn't find the tourist centre, no one seemed to want to help me either–as soon as I spoke English I was ignored! I decided to try French and then German too, but met with similar results–I asked a policeman, he didn't know apparently, I asked three old ladies on the street, they turned their faces away from me in disgust! Then two guys came over and asked if I was OK. I told them I wanted to find the tourist info place there and they told me that there wasn't one! According to the map I had seen on the boarder, there was . . . Lezhe had a big blue 'I' above it's name which had told me this. So either those guys were lying or? The guys said that they could take me to a camp site which I said was very kind however, It was only 2pm and I wanted to do at least another four or five hours of walking before I needed a place to camp. Him and his mate began to get a little pushy, trying to get me to go to their 'friends' hotel next, they didn't listen to me and so in the end I told them no, and I walked off–no maps, no Leke . . . Pretty fucked really, but I was glad to have got out of that town unscathed.

I was pretty shaken up, I just wanted to get the hell out of that country and finish the quest,it was not a nice place to be wandering through for me. I walked on another 3km then rested. My water situation was fine since there were discarded water bottles everywhere along the road side. My food situation was very different though: I had to eat half of my emergency muesli earlier, now all I had left was the other half–that was it. If the next town didn't have a currency exchange then I seriously doubted my prospects of getting food. My feet absolutely killed, but it was now a race to get through and I pushed on. At about 4pm, the sun still blazing and the road still snaking out in front of me as far as I could see, I began to worry. I worried that I was very lucky

last night with my camp and may not be as lucky tonight. There were precious few forest areas there, much of what I saw was either towns, farmed fields or rocky, treeless plains. I decided not to take any chances and began looking for camps or hotels/hostels there and then.

I came across a cheap looking hotel and went inside, I posed as a New Zealand guy and even spoke in French to avoid detection (the people there spoke no English supposedly), but I was told they had no rooms available.

More bullshit–there were no cars in the car park, no guests in the bar! I tried the next hotel where I posed as a Frenchmen, ironically they spoke no French there, only English! That turned out better, 15E for the night but then they tried to add an additional 15E just for dinner and breakfast, I told them that they were asking too much, since looking at the menu I highlighted the 2E Neopol spaghetti–that being all I wanted. The guy pointed to the steak at 6E to which I lied: "I'm a vegetarian!" In the end I told them I would pay for my food as I went thank you very much and they relented. I decided to get the payment out the way now and handed my 50E over, it all seemed to go down OK and then the head guy said that I was to be shown to my room, the other guy then began to lead me off but I refused to go since I had not yet been given my 35E change! They told me not to worry and it would all be fine but I refused to budge until I had my change–it was totally ridiculous! The head guy then relented and went to another room to get my change, returning with the cash a moment later, why were these people so damn difficult!? It was like everyone was trying to rip everyone each other off and I was a prime target!

My room was good–sort of. It consisted of three small single beds, a chair, a TV and a bathroom. My bed had glow in the dark dinosaur stickers all over the headboard, I'm pretty certain I had been given the worst room possible for a 'last laugh'–the kids room or something, ah well! I chilled for a while before dinner. I was hating Albania, my head was screaming at me to just pack it all in and end it now but I reminded myself–only eight days to go Moss . . . It was funny because I realised that it was pretty much a vision quest again: I was at constant war with my subconscious. I went downstairs and asked if it was OK to eat now, but immediately I was called over by the manager who asked me to sit at his table with two other guys. I did so, I was ready for anything by that point, I really didn't give a fuck anymore. A girl came over–the interpreter, she was carrying a 50E note, mine I guessed–there was clearly a problem . . .

Nothing was said at first, the girl simply pointed to the corner of the note where 90 days of my sweat had rubbed some of the print off just a little. She looked at me and then told me that the banks wouldn't take such a note, "It's a fake." Totally straight up like that! I was stunned, this was not possible since I had got the notes from the bureau de change in England. I just stared at them all in disbelief. The manager asked me (through her) why I hadn't got any Leke. I told them of my encounter with the people of Lezhe and how I had wanted to get change but was basically run out of town, it sounded hollow as I was telling them, did they even care? Did they just want me gone, now that they were pretty sure I was English? Fuck it I thought, lets play my ace and see what they do! I nonchalantly produced another, crisper 50E from my butt area (I had 4 x 50E notes that I had not yet touched–my emergency stash for flights etc. They had sat in a pouch in the small of my back since I left, hence why they were covered in my sweat). I waved it casually and said, "Will this one do?" I did my best to act board and thereby give the impression that money wasn't a thing for me, that way they might think that I would spend lots. The girl inspected it. Once satisfied she nodded to the manager and everyone suddenly became much more amicable, dinner was back on! I asked for pasta, cheese and tomato, it was very nice but whilst I ate I realised that I may have made a mistake: By acting as if I had loads of cash on me, was I asking to be robbed in the night? Would they? I made a mental note to jam the door and finished my food. When the bill came I noticed that I had been charged 3E more than the menu promised, I couldn't be bothered to argue any more and let them have their cheated money to stain their souls. I then headed up to bed after getting my original 50E back off the girl, she advised me to wash it–which I duly did in my bathroom sink, then I moved the chair and TV cabinet in front of the door, wedging it against the bathroom door-frame thus barricading it shut. I felt pretty safe. I needed a map and badly, also Leke worse, and I really wanted to call my parents–they would be worrying, I hoped tomorrow would see that list completed. I lay my head down amidst the dinosaurs and began to sleep, then the music and banging started!

**Day 96**

luckily the noise didn't last long, maybe they did it to spite me, maybe not–whatever. I was up before dawn and headed out at first light. It was a cool morning which was really good, since now I knew–blending in was a must for me in Albania, I had to change my look a little. To that end I swapped my wonderful short-shorts and

nothing else ensemble, for a less conspicuous, trouser and cheesecloth vest get-up–I would be hotter but I believed it was worth the price. I walked for miles as the sun rose, past Lac and onto a big motorway. Nobody had any regard for the rules of the road, I was walking along the hard shoulder of the motorway and I was passed by a multitude of other 'illegal' users: Bicycles, mopeds, other walkers and even a horse and cart travelling the wrong way! I had 1E worth of Local currency (my emergency Euro stash being pretty much useless until I could change it up), 500ml of muesli and a small bottle of water to my name, but the Universe came through for me even in that wilderness! I found three slices of ant-infested bread, lots of water in various bottles, half a caramel desert thing and two signs from the Universe that showed me I was on the right track (which meant everything to me): Some Milka chocolate and a 10Leke coin (I now had 1.10E worth!).

I kept on walking, I was like a robot. I didn't smile or say hello to anyone I passed–It wasn't the way out there, no thoughts, only walking. The road was totally straight for miles and miles and miles, I could see a big place in the distance. I stopped to rest at a derelict service station. I was really worried about my parents, since I had told them that I would contact them a week after I left them in Dubrovnik and it had been well over that now, there was simply no way for me to do so though–no public pay phones there, I didn't even see any in the hotels I had come across. The sun was mercilessly frying me and I couldn't strip off there either. I was stuck sweating in my cotton, I mused that I might actually have to have a shower later on. I walked and I walked.

I was 'dinged' out of my sweaty trance by two bikers. They were Italians and they had a map! They were very friendly and were amazed that I was walking. I was so relieved to meet friendly people and we chatted for ages.

They showed me the map and I saw that I had about 30km to go until I got to Durres, then Kavaje around 15km further along the coast. I couldn't see any context though, so I had no idea as to how far I had come or how far was still to go, there were no distance signs on the roads there to help either. Meeting those friendly faces perked me up and gave me some much needed strength. I then began to look back over all the people that I had met upon my journey so far, all those people that had wished me well, wished me strength and 'bon courage.' I repeated those words over and over: "Bon courage Moss." And it gave me more strength–I would not give in. I decided that I would do this for them, for me, for my family and for the Universe. I carried on.

At about one I had to stop and rest. I found a place that accepted Euros and bought some pasta, after that I walked on again. I came to the turn-off marked–Durres and was about to take it, when I saw a map of the whole of Albania on a big sign–Nice! I was so lucky to have noticed it because if I had continued to Duress and then south, It would have meant an extra two or three days of travel! After looking at the map I changed my route to head through the capital (Tirana), and then south-east into the hills, thus crossing at a different boarder farther north than I had planned. I was very pleased with my new route, since it saved me time and also–because I was now headed for the capital city–it meant that I would have another shot at finding maps and changing money up, maybe even a phone or internet cafe too?! I walked on. I had seen lots of hotels so I was confident that I would find somewhere for the night, when the time came to begin looking however, I was not so lucky: Not a single hotel for hours and hours, just buildings that looked like hotels but were called: 'Moblilerie's'–furniture showrooms–one after the other all along the road. Honestly, there must have been around 50 of them all in a row, it was like a furniture showroom valley! Then finally, as my legs were literally about to give in (11.5 hours walking)–a hotel!

I wasn't messing about any longer, so when the guy there asked 20E for a room I looked him dead in the eyes and told him that it was too much, I would pay him 15E. He stared at me for a while but I just stared right back, I had become something inhuman–no compromise left and he knew it, he said OK. I paid him and he took me to the room and then left me to it. The air-con didn't work and the shower was cold but fuck it–It was Albania, I had learned to expect shit and make the best of it, I was pleased just to have a room–I would have been happy with a cowshed that night! The hotel wasn't serving food apparently, but there was a store just across the road and they took Euro which was fantastic. I got heaps–bread, milk, juice, pasta sauce and cheese, enough for dinner and maybe a day and a half after. Back in my room, I was so hot and so filthy with sweat that I took a shower–my first in months ( _Not that I smelt bad–I believe that we are indoctrinated to believe that the human_ _smell is bad, yes it can be strong but is it actually bad? If you smell yourself after a day of not washing then_ _you will usually smell of sweat, after a few more days the body begins to regulate itself and your natural,_ _balanced human aroma will assert itself–Mine is quite spicy. The thing is, they want us to wash with their_ _beauty products, they then want us to use their moisturisers, then their fragrances etc. It's a massively lucrative_ _world-wide market and how do they make us waste so much money on it? They tell us that 'we stink.' Sorry but_ _living things all have a scent, how can it be wrong if it is natural? What is wrong, is that we are so fucking_

_mindless that we all listen to what the media wants us to believe–we all agree, without even actually smelling_ _and the smell is then judged before it is actually understood and experienced–yes it may be strong sometimes,_ _but would it actually be offensive to your nose if you had not been told that it **should** be?). _ I also washed my clothes while in there and then dried myself and my kit on the balcony eating as the sun set. I felt good then, I had done 35km and I was alive, I was about 10km from the capital city and I was ready for it. I would sleep well I reckoned.

**Day 97**

I didn't sleep well in the end, the broken air-con meant that it was baking and somehow, mosquito's had got in and buzzed in my ears and bit me all night long, I killed six or seven–but there were always more. Eventually I got the air-con working by warming the batteries in my hand and then quickly setting it while it was powered, but the mozzies I couldn't sort. Still, I had to continue and I was on my way by 7am. I walked to Tirane which–

as I expected–was a piece of shit. I managed to get maps there though and I also changed up some money, I couldn't find a phone or internet cafe though. After looking at my new map I saw that the boarder was about 230km away–about a week, that put a little damper on my spirits as I thought it was closer. I forced that negativity aside and told myself to keep going. I made it through Tirane and out again without any issues, I did however, stop to chat with a barman that I passed who was pretty friendly and I discovered a bit more about the Albanian people. He asked me: "Why are you in this shit country?" (genuinely–his own words).

I told him what I was doing, and I found out that his dream was to travel to the UK and work there for a year.

He believed that if he did so, he would build a ton of cash in the bank and then he could return to Albania and live his dreams–get a lovely girlfriend, a nice car and house etc. etc. I was astounded. No wonder the people of Albania seemed to be so unhappy: They were chasing money and material dreams but it was so much further away for them. No wonder they seemed to dislike British people so much too–we were inhabiting the very place that they all want to get to, and our boarders were closed to them–they were totally jealous! I tried to explain, that if he believed he would only get a 'nice girl' if he had money, then she was not really a 'nice girl' at all. I told him that he should look for inner peace and that money does not make you happy, he disagreed and ended our conversation by storming off in a huff! I laughed and continued.

After Tiran the terrain began to change markedly, I had come to the first hills of the Albanian inner countryside. It looked a lot nicer there, more green, less built up and smoggy. The people were still mad though.

Later in the afternoon, I did find a guy who was amazing though–he was hanging out at a drinks stall on the road and he lent me his mobile to text my dad who then called back. We spoke for ages and I told him I was doing well and that I was almost done, I had to fight to hold back tears and sound strong for him–inside I was so tired and desperate to finish. Still, I was incredibly happy to have spoken to my dad and I thanked the guy who lent me his phone over and over, he then told me that there was a tunnel coming up into which pedestrians were not allowed–police were there to enforce it too. It meant that I would have to take the long way round, up the hairpin bends of the hilltop pass adding about 15km to the journey. He offered to give me a lift and I died a little inside when I passed him up on that offer! We said goodbye and he drove off.

I walked onwards and came to Ibe, I was now way up in the hills and finally I had begun to see some of the beauty of Albania: Rolling hills stretching out into the distance covered in green, little rural hamlets using traditional hand-tool farming methods, hidden amidst the folding valleys, the sun bathing the land in a hazy orange light. I began looking for a camp but once again I found nothing, there being very few trees and little cover. I passed by a gate beyond which, a family was enjoying dinner on their terrace, one of their number–a young man of around 15–hailed me with a smile. I stopped and we chatted, his name was Adi and he and his family were very, very nice. After I had told him I was looking for a place to camp for the night, he asked his mother whether I could come in and stay with them in the garden! His mum said yes and my relief gushed from me!

I strung my hammock up between the two trees in their garden–it was just right! It looked like rain would come soon so I raised the hammock and put up my tarp. All the while, Adi was chatting away to me and

examining all my kit. Though we couldn't understand each others words, we understood each other through gestures and expressions. His mother came down with a plate of cooked meat and potato which she gave to me, I was blown away by her kindness–she asked nothing in return, enjoying the simple act of giving. I wolfed it down as Adi ate his desert of sunflower seeds beside me. Even though Adi was very kind and welcoming, he

also highlighted to me how very different the Albanian culture was for me–I found it hard to get on the same level as Adi: He was hasty and in-your-face, even at times aggressive and yet all the while, I sensed that he was trying to be a good host–it was a strange and unnerving combination. He seemed interested in all the material things I had, he wanted to know everything that I had in my kit and how much it was worth, right down to the rings on my fingers, I began to wonder if he planned on robbing me? I know that was a bad thought, especially since he and his family had taken me in, but as I mentioned–body language and expressions were triggering warning bells with me.

A little later on, a friend of Adi's came over and we were introduced. He was a much smaller, shyer boy with broken teeth and an aura of worry. He spoke better English though and it was through him that I discovered some of the reasons why the Albanians were the way they were: He told me about the school system there, he told me that for the boys, all they do is fight, he said you either win and become popular and safe or you lose and become hated and bullied. He told me that the girls in schools are taught to be quiet and basically serve the boys. He told me he hated school and that it was a terrible way for someone to be brought up. This was exactly what the guy in the hostel of Dubrovnik had told me and it explained much. I could now see why Adi was so direct and aggressive–he was forced to be so. It was no surprise then, that the men in Albania were aggressive and that being 'Manly' was a must. The Albanian people were being stunted: When they should have been learning about the world and knowledge, they were encouraged–it appeared–to be animalistic and materialistic.

Why was this not discouraged? It seemed to me that improving the educational system would be a big help for Albania, it would improve tourism due to a more friendly atmosphere and I'm sure it would also improve the littering situation which was ruining their beautiful land, it was heartbreaking to see . . .

Then it poured it down and it didn't stop. We sheltered under the porch and watched a traffic jam caused by a parked bus. In the end Adi had to open the gates of the house and direct the traffic through their private lane in order to fix the jam–it had become impossible for anyone to move since some idiots had tried to overtake from both sides and were then blocked, another example of thoughtlessness and aggression there. The rain kept on coming, eventually creating a small lake under my hammock, my bag got soaked before I noticed and rushed to move it. Adi's father came out–an older man who seemed to live in solitude in a converted garage. He carried a huge metal rod and proceeded to smash holes into the concrete of his driveway under my hammock. The water drained thorough the holes and the lake began to empty but I felt so bad–destroying his driveway for me to spend one night there, they couldn't do enough to help me it seemed. Albanian's–get on their good side and they will fight to protect you, but beware being on their bad side lol! The rain stopped for a while and in that time Adi asked me if I had any drugs on me. I didn't, and I told him so, also telling him that I didn't drink or do drugs at all. He didn't believe me and kept asking me to give him some cannabis . . . In the end I gave him three cigarettes that I had rolled, I felt pretty bad about it though since he was 15 and when he smoked it, he hid it from his mother, I hoped to god she wouldn't find out–stupid Moss! He smoked it like a pro though, he clearly smoked already and must have been smoking pot too, that young–my heart went out for him–his childhood was being hastened to an end by his own actions. The rain began again and the night was upon us, so we said our goodbye's and we went to bed.

**Day 98**

The rain turned into a storm with thunder and lightning, it howled and flashed all night long. The rain fell fat and thickly and it found ways to run into my hammock, seeping into my sleeping bag, down my back and onto my skin. What could I do? I tried to sleep. I got up around half six, said thank you to Adi's mother and hit the road (Adi himself had gone to school already so I couldn't wish him well). I arrived at the tunnel that I was told about, yup–no pedestrians allowed, shit. I trudged fatalistically onto the old road. It was very steep and very windy, but it was also very quiet and very picturesque. That old road used to be the only way from Tirane to Elbasan and as such, it used to be very important and busy. Since the tunnel had been built, all the businesses that had flourished along the old road were now in disarray–bars, restaurants and hotels, they were all either shut down or dying. Every single restaurant that I passed had it's own stray dog or team of stray dogs to guard it and they were crazy _(I am not very good with dogs as it is . . . )._

The first one I came across was lying in the middle of the road just outside his restaurant. As I got near him, his ears pricked up and he eyed me, I got closer. He sprang up and began savagely barking at me, snarling through curled-back lips as he approached madly. He was very quickly upon me and I fully believed that I was about to be attacked. All I could do was avert my eyes, turn away from him and try to walk past him, utterly

terrified. My problem, was that I wasn't actually sure if he was stray or belonged to the restaurant owner, so I was loathe to lash out at him or shout at him just in case. I got past him, he was still going crazy and I didn't look back. At the next restaurant, I faired little better: This time there were two, once again they barked and snarled ferociously as I approached, so I turned my body and tried to continue past them. Since there were two of them they were able to block my path though and I was soon backed against the wall, nowhere to go. Luckily for me, a guy came out from the hotel and shouted, 'Hess!' at the dogs. They seemed to shrink at his confidence and then when he threw a pebble at them and hollered 'Hess!' once more, they fled leaving my way clear. I passed them and they growled at me, so I thought I would try the magic word myself: "Hess!" I cried, like I was the very voice of God–and it worked! They backed off and I was free woop! By the time I approached the third canine guard party I was ready, I had even picked up a stick as a nice prop to add some extra 'weight' to my performance. They looked at me and began to growl and move but I raised my 'staff' and spake the command:

"Back!" They were cowed by my confident delivery and shrank before me, I heroically moved into their

midsts, daring them to try it, my face a grim effigy of power _(inside I was pretty scared!)._ One began to move again but once more my voice rang out, "Back you fiend!" I felt like Gandalf, a powerful sorcerer and they seemed to know it, I was through unscathed and all was well from then on.

The sun came out and I stopped to dry my rain-soaked kit. I had around 20km to go before I hit Elbasan. Once my kit was dry I walked on like a boss. I went off track a little, which involved some rock climbing and sheer drop navigating but I found another tortoise and said hi, and then I was approaching Elbasan itself. It was only about 2pm and I had already walked 25km, I then saw a sign that told me Kapshtice (my boarder crossing) was only 160 km away, which equated to about five days–I was overjoyed! It meant that either the previous signs that I had seen were utter bollocks, or I had been doing 15km extra a day (45km total) than I thought, for the last two days . . . Either way–it was a great thing. Elbasan was a nice surprise, after the other cities and towns of Albania I was expecting a shit-hole, full of unfriendly people and smog. I was met with a clean, affluent city, well laid out and actually quite friendly–nice one Albania! It was huge too, almost as big as Tirana _(it wasn't_ _actually that big, but it felt that way)_. It had a 'ghetto belt' around the central city but it wasn't bad at all, it didn't feel dodgy, it was pretty clean and friendly even there and I stopped to buy some lunch at a tiny bakery run by an old, toothless crone. I walked on and found that the S3 road I was on would take me to the E852, which would then take me all the way to Korce (which was only 20km from the boarder), so it should be a nice, simple journey. I helped some guy bump-start his car in the city which was fun.

On my way out of Elbasan, a car pulled up in front of me and I was waved over to the window. The guys inside asked me if I wanted a lift, I told them about my journey and I asked if they could spare me some water since I was out. One of the guys leapt out of the car and quick as a flash, he had the boot open and was rummaging through. He produced a full bottle of water and a small bag of food which he kindly gave to me. I took his email and thanked them and they drove off. I felt pretty damn good. Some kids playing basketball across the road shouted hello at me. I shouted hello back and smiled, they then replied with a lovely 'Fuck you!'

Guess some you win and some you lose–I wasn't bothered anymore. There were stalls selling fruit and veg all along the road–it seemed just about every house there had one–the owner would sit from dawn till dusk waiting for passing trade, it was incredible and I decided to buy from the locals as much as I could from that point on.

I then found out that it was 5pm, that had gone quick! My feet were killing me and so I started to look for a place to camp or a room to stay. I reasoned that I could get another hour of walking done but also that if I did, I might then be screwed for a place to stay and so I stopped at the first hotel I came to. It was 25E for the night . .

. I'm not ashamed to say, I said fuck it–OK! I knew that I only had a few days left, I needed to stop, I didn't need the stress of finding a camp late at night and so I went for the expensive hotel. It was great lol! I was allowed to smoke in my room, I had a big double bed and a great shower. I only found one mosquito and killed that so I was pretty confident of a good night's rest, even the air-con worked! In the calm of my room, as I smoked I read back over some of my journal. It was really interesting to read about how the voice of greed had been pestering me before, now I felt so different and I could honestly say that the voice no longer bothered me, it felt very good. I prepared for bed.

**Day 99**

I slept really well even though the couple next door were shagging loudly for ages! There was only one more mosquito in with me but it didn't bother me until I was awake. I got up just after dawn and made a move. The day started good but half an hour into my walking, the rain hit with a vengeance. I was forced to stop and

shelter under the eaves of a corrugated iron street-sellers shack, after a half hour it calmed down and I continued on my way. 10 minutes later and it hit once more though, It began to thunder too and the shower became a storm, this time I found shelter in a small cave just off the road. The rain didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon–damn you Albania! If Croatia was personified as a woman then Albania was definitely a man! A little while later, another guy came rushing in my cave to escape the rain, I smiled and made some space for him to sit and we shared the shelter for a while. Eventually the rain ceased and we went back to our business, the guy waved, put on his hi-vis vest and continued his work shovelling the mud from the road, I carried on walking. Frikin' five minutes later and the rain hit yet again! I ducked into another tunnel but was spotted by a traffic cop who told me I wasn't allowed to go in there–the hell!? So he sent me–half dressed–into a storm, the dickhead! Luckily there was a gas station five minutes up the road but I was totally drenched by the time I got there.

Even though I was soaked and dripping everywhere, they let me sit in the cafe of the gas station. I bought a cup of tea and began to warm myself up. There were four other guys in the cafe and they were all pretty friendly, I tried to explain what I was doing and they were quite impressed. I shared my nuts and seeds with them, the woman that ran the cafe took the piss though, and emptied pretty much half the pack into her greedy hands. The guys were OK though, in fact they offered me cigarettes after that which was nice. After another half hour of waiting, the rain stopped and the sun came out so I got back on the road. I felt very lethargic, the voice in my head that worried about food and stuff was back, how funny–after being so proud that I had 'beaten'

it last night. The voice told me that the boarder was too far and I wouldn't make it, it kept on suggesting that I should give up, find a cab and get in it. I told myself to focus, focus! _I_ was in charge, not that pitiful voice.

Every step I took was a step closer to Greece–the finish line, then I could hop on a bus or whatever, lay my bag down and begin the journey home. I just had to keep going, don't stop, but it was so hard. The sun dried me off as I walked into Librazhd which was a shithole, the river entered the town pretty and blue and it exited on the other side a thick brown, nuff said. Once out of the town I found my lunch in a bag hanging from a sign, I took it without bothering to check what it was. Around the corner I opened it up to find a tomato and a big hunk of buttered bread! I also found some orange juice in a bottle just up the road but when I opened it, it exploded and narrowly missed me–it was piss, you win some you lose some . . .

I continued after eating my food and waved to an awesome looking camper, it turned around and stopped just ahead of me and so I went to chat. Inside were three young people from Germany–proper hippies, and they asked me if I wanted to come with them to the lake. Man oh man I wished I could have said yes, but of course I had to decline stating that I was almost at my goal and I had to walk it or fail. I took their email though and will perhaps see them in the future I hoped? I found an old railway line which ran alongside the road, according to my map it would take me exactly where I needed to go, but with fewer hills and a bit straighter so I took to it. It was pretty difficult going since I was walking on the sleepers in the middle of the tracks, they were rickety and slippery and I had to either lengthen or shorten my stride to cope, but it meant that I was off the road, in the countryside and going through some awesome tunnels. The rain came back but there was a tunnel ahead and I chilled there for 10 minutes until it passed. I noticed that if one walks into a pitch black tunnel whilst focussing only on the exit ahead, it creates an incredibly surreal visual effect, like time had stopped or something. It was pretty cool! I followed the track for a few hours through the countryside and thoroughly enjoyed the walk, it would make a lovely cycle trail if converted. Then suddenly–more bloody rain! Torrential again and just up ahead was some kind of building so I made a bee line for it. It turned out to be an amazingly cheap restaurant and so I ate a hearty school-dinner style meal for just 3E, I needed that! I then returned to the railway walk, tunnels and coolness for a while and sure enough, it rained again–this was getting ridiculous! It came down really bad and I was in the middle of an old forest when it hit, a little further up I noticed a cave-like tunnel, just wide enough for me to fit and I sheltered there.

I sat upon the rocky floor, took my pack off and began to write. After I was done writing, I saw that outside the sun was going down and it was darkening. I couldn't really camp in the tunnel since the ground was so rocky, but there was no way I was heading out in the rain and so I was forced to wait some more, every second built up my worry–trapped in a narrow tunnel with night closing in was not a good situation. So I started to roll a cigarette, and as I did so I said to the Universe, 'Universe, if you stop the rain then I will chuck this fag away–

whatever state that it is in.' I continued to roll . . . The next thing I heard was a tremendous rushing of water from behind me! It turned out that the tunnel I was in was the inside of a bridge over a dry river, and it was swiftly 'un-drying' due to the storm! Water cascaded into the opposite end of the tunnel about 10 feet from me, it began to create a river that was headed my way, and would hit me in a matter of seconds, and there I sat with

my bag and diary on the floor in the middle of it, rolling a fag! I scooped up my diary and cigarette stuff in one hand and then with the other, I swung my bag up onto my shoulders, then I jumped up and put a foot on either side of the tunnel wall as the water gushed beneath me. Then I realised that I was stuck–if I waited there, then the water level might rise and I would be forced to get in the river to escape, or I could go now, get a little wet and then continue to get wet in the rain. Not much of a choice at all really, but I chose to move–splashing a couple of steps into the river and then hauling myself up the bank once free from the tunnel.

So the Universe had forced me into the rain :( I was not happy. But two minutes later the rain stopped!

Actually, I realised that it was the perfect time to have left: If I had stayed, and rolled and then smoked the fag, I would have probably felt bad and then left later than I ended up doing so thus wasting time and light. I thanked the Universe for pressing me onwards. I did another half hour as the sun set and then the rain hit once more. By that time I had left the railway and was on the road, up ahead was a large roadside shack selling food and so I headed there. Inside I bought an apple and sat under the roof while it poured down around me. I was now pretty screwed again–I couldn't wild camp since the ground was now sodden and it was raining still, I desperately wanted to find a settlement and get a room instead, but there was no sign of a settlement nearby and my map told me that it would be hours until I made the next one, so that was out of the question too. It left only one option–find something derelict or natural like a cave, but how? I could look for hours and not find a thing.

In the end, I waited until the rain had slowed to a patter and then I carried on walking–I had no other choice.

I was cold and damp and I passed an abandoned shack! I don't know why but I decided to forge on, I guess I was grasping for a hotel room, even though I knew I wouldn't make it. Why did I pass that by? It had been a gift from the Universe, it was exactly what I needed but I didn't take it! I knew I was a fool and by the time I realised that, I had gone too far to turn around. The rain began to pick up in intensity and I knew I was about to begin the worst night of my life–alone and soaked on the frigged ground as rain pelted me all night long. But I saw what I had to do. I stopped and I took a deep breath, I apologised to the Universe for grasping and begged that it would give me one more chance, I asked that it give me a place to spend the night, any place at all–

please. I continued. After two minutes my salvation appeared, there just off the road ahead, was a small abandoned bar. One of the back windows had been smashed and as I clambered in out of the elements, I

thanked the Universe over and over again. I knew that I didn't deserve it, I knew I had failed miserably after all the lessons that I had been taught, and yet _still_ , the Universe delivered to me. It was perfect–warm and dry with space to lay my camp. It was extremely dusty but that was fine, it meant that it was not used and that water wasn't getting in anywhere. I set up camp on the dusty marble floor as the rain turned once more into a storm. I finished rolling that cigarette, I smoked it with hands that shook with relief. I was close to tears I was so thankful, but I decided to save them for Greece and my victory celebration . . .

**Day 100**

Awesome sleep! I awoke to a sky that was white with clouds, would it rain? I prayed that it wouldn't, not another day of storm dodging–my boots were still damp as it was. I thanked the Universe for the shelter, packed my stuff and hit the trail. I felt so much better thanks to the good sleep and began walking with a smile on my face. About five minutes in and it began to spit . . . Please no! Luckily it stopped. I followed the main road for a while because the railway track was too muddy and slippery to use. I got to a small town and took a footpath through the hills as the sun began to break through the clouds. I saw a group of school children coming the other way along the railway track so I figured that it must not be too bad there and switched to walking on that.

As I passed the kids, every single one of them smiled and said hello, some even stopped and asked my name and whether I liked their country! It was a lovely experience and very good to see, it definitely had a better vibe up there in the countryside south-east of Elbasan. With those kids being the future of Albania, I would say that it was much improving. _I think money and media have really corrupted the poorly educated Albanian's of the_ _mainland, drugs too–like cannabis and heroin, which I overheard even old people going on about getting hold_ _of while in some urban places._ Up there in the hills it was gorgeous, the sun was warm and bright as I followed the tracks, tall and slim traditionally created hay mounds were stacked here and there to dry, donkeys 'hee-hawed' loudly all over the place–magic. I got to Perenjas which was an OK, medium-sized town with a college and a vibrant collection of college students moving about. I found some fresh peppers and a tomato discarded in a bag and I bought some peanuts, bread and raisins (My new trail mix–full of protein, fats and carbs).

Once out of Perenjas the road went totally crazy, winding back and forth at crazy angles up into the steep hills, so I made my own way off road and tried to shortcut the turns. I went along goat herder tracks through the short

grasses and saved a lot of distance. At the top of a rise I found a sign that told me the boarder was 99km away–

three days maximum! Three days and I would complete my journey! I continued and once again went off-road when I saw the chance for a shortcut. This time I followed cattle trails through the hilly scrub-land arriving at the shores of lake Ohrid at about 2pm (it felt like six)! Pogradec could be seen in the distance on the southern lake shore and since it was only two, there was a good chance I could walk the 20 odd km, arrive in the settlement by nightfall and find a room. Why was time so strange I wondered? It felt like I had walked well into the afternoon but it was only 2pm? It was hard to believe, especially since yesterday went so fast and yet I had thought it was still early when darkness came, it seemed that time stretches or contracts sometimes . . .

I followed the lakeside path and gazed upon Macedonia out across the water, incredible–dark grey ominous mountains as far as I could see, it looked mighty indeed. Egrets and cormorants fished alongside me, stalking the waters, there was noticeably less litter there too which was awesome. I walked and walked, always towards Pogradek which never seemed to get any closer. I passed lots of street sellers–now hawking fish rather than fruit, big live salmon in roadside tanks. The sellers would put one specimen on a string, wet it in the tank and then walk out into the middle of the road waving it at passing cars who had to swerve to avoid them–crazy! I saw a derelict factory up ahead and made for it, thinking perhaps to shelter there for the night but it had a community of dodgy-looking men outside its doors, I was pretty sure they were shooting up. I continued and almost got to Pogradek itself, but in the end I was so knackered that when I saw a quaint little hotel–a little run down but quirky–I knew I had found my shelter for the night. The mother and son there spoke English and I took a lovely old single room for 17E. I ate there too, having veg and rice and pickles and got some rest afterwards. My room overlooked the lake and I could see Macedonia too, it was really nice but I was too tired to appreciate it for long and was soon in bed. Phew!

**Day 101**

Considering the 'shag-a-thon' that occurred next door, the guy slamming doors at 4am and the tiles above me that reverberated every single footstep taken in the bar–I slept pretty well. I definitely prefer the peace and wildness of camping in forests though! I travelled through Pogradek in the early morning light, it didn't seem like a very nice town though and I continued quickly through. I felt tired and light headed, but focused. I bought a ring of dried figs from a street seller and continued up into the hills along the SH3 and then down the other side. My feet killed. I realised that it had felt late in the day when it was so early those times before, since I had been getting up at half five and beginning my walk around six, this had meant that by 2pm I had already walked for seven or eight hours–No wonder I thought it was late! It also explained how I was covering way more distance now: It meant I was getting an extra two–three hours walking in a day, doing 40km rather than 30km and sometimes even more that that!

It was overcast when I began walking and it was still overcast by lunch time, rain looked possible too. I arrived at a junction where if I continued on the SH3, I would get to Korce and beyond which was my planned route, however, I saw that if I took the new turning east, then I might save some km, but it might also be a terrible road and then in fact _add_ some km instead. . . In the end I decided to take a chance (also it took me off the main road which I hate being on) and I went the new way east. It turned out to be a fine choice, the road took me to the base of some lovely hills where the town of Podgorie was the main hub. I didn't go through the town though, as I saw a chance for another shortcut–taking a wild route through fields and over hills, it saved me more km and I found myself emerging from the wilderness on a farm track, then re-connecting with the road which I followed due south-east.

I walked another couple of hours and then the rains began, They started light and I turned to see the state of the sky behind me: Massive grey clouds were chasing me and thunder crashed in the distance–I didn't have long to find shelter but I was on a totally empty plane, no buildings and no shelter, all I could do was pick up my pace slightly and hope to come across something. I was so lucky, the rain held off until I came upon a village with a food shop and then it poured down without mercy. I sheltered in the shop and the old woman there was very kind, she let me sit on a stool and wait out the rain. We tried to communicate a little,; I told her what I was up to and she told me that she had lived in the village and run the shop for 20 years. I said that it must have been lovely to live so peaceful a life? She told me that she didn't like it and was desperate to leave, but that she was now too old. I didn't really know what to say to that and just went: 'Oh . . .' I bought a big wedge of incredible goats cheese from her, as well as some chocolate (cos I could!), then thanked her and since the rain had finished, I carried on with my journey. Just as I was leaving I asked the old woman where I was, she told

me that I was in Zvezde. I was totally taken aback–Zvezde was almost at the end of the road I was on, I had walked a huge distance–I was almost a day from the boarder, a day ahead of myself! All I had to do was cover another 10km and I would be on track for arriving at the boarder by lunch tomorrow–wow, I was going to make it! I trotted onwards my goal in sight.

The road made a turn in the wrong direction, it felt all wrong and I couldn't check my compass since I had left it two nights ago in the abandoned bar as an offering–Shit. It turned out to be OK though, I soon saw a sign for Bilisht, which was my goal for the day and the last town before the boarder. In the distance I saw an orange sign just off the road, as I gazed upon it trying to decipher what it said, the letters formed and I saw that it read–'Go on!' I couldn't believe it, but it filled me with strength–the Universe was pushing me forward! Up close I saw that the sign actually displayed something about oil prices, 'go on' had been a figment of my imagination but I knew I had seen it whether real or not. _What makes something 'real' anyway? Real is simply_ _something that we experience with any number of our senses, and so real is in the mind of the beholder._ Though I was absolutely shattered having travelled 35km already, I knew that I had to make Bilisht that night, the Universe was helping me too. Then I realised, tomorrow I would get to Greece! Tomorrow I would begin my journey home! Then I looked up, and there in the sky before the hills of Greece was the most perfect double rainbow that I had ever seen in my entire life. After the violet of one rainbow it went back into the green of the next, cascading down through the colours back to violet again. I fell to my knees on the side of the road and thanked the Universe. Then a small flock of eight or nine swallows flew by, just in front of the rainbow too–the Universe was acknowledging my thanks! It was showing me it's love, filling me with the strength to go on.

Honestly, what are the chances hey? I swear it is all true, I walked on . . .

My feet were on fire, though I could see Bilisht in the distance it was still about three hours away for me–a lifetime when one's feet hurt so much. Those hours seemed to go on forever, I had to stop often cos there were times when I simply could not walk anymore. It was twilight when I finally arrived on the outskirts of the town, surely there would be hotels there since it was the biggest place before the boarder. I saw none, still–the Universe had urged me to go on and go on I would. I arrived in the centre of town and still there were no hotels, what the hell was I going to do? It meant that I would have to carry on out of town and into the hills, camping on the plains. I couldn't walk anymore, there just had to be a hotel or something there, I reminded myself–go on. Then I saw my chance: It was a derelict hovel right next to the road, the bottom door was ajar and I made for it. I peeked inside and was met by the feral gaze of a small pack of stray dogs, I backed slowly out–Shit. But the hovel had an upstairs too and no way of getting up there except by climbing, that meant none but the most determined would be able to get in and no dogs either. I chucked my bag up through an old window and then climbed the wall and got in. It was very dusty, there were two rooms with no windows and a big hole where the door had been, but it was deserted–I was safe. Someone had stayed there before on a cardboard mattress but had not been there for a long time. In one of the rooms I found a bunch of wood including a full length door and with that, I covered the gaping door-hole. I lay my camp out on the cardboard and took off my boots, my feet were in agony so I massaged them for a while. Then I ate and went to bed. Well deserved indeed I thought!

**S**

**eptember 22 nd**

**2016. G**

****

**reece**

**Day 102**

I was up excitedly with the dawn. It had rained all night long and was still spitting just a little, but the sky looked good. I packed camp and began the final day of walking towards Kapshtice and the boarder beyond. It was a very cold morning, I wished that I had kept my jacket, since all I had now was my cheesecloth vest–at least I had kept my long trousers. If it rained I was fudged since the road was totally empty of trees or shelter of any kind. The road just kept going and going, I went through Kapshtice–where the hell was the boarder? Again I wished I had kept my compass . . . I got stopped by cops, there were two of them, one of them (the big one) got out of the jeep and came right up to me, right in my face staring at me. I stared back and didn't budge, nothing was said for a few seconds. Finally he asked me for my passport, I produced it and waited as they checked it out. It was all good and then they were nice as pie! They told me the boarder was just ahead, only a few km, I carried on. There was a mountain of litter all along the road, mainly the massive duty-free fag boxes, I was disgusted but it was a good sign that I was close. After another hour I approached the boarder! I got through the Albanian side without a hitch and then got through the Greek side no worries too, I was there, I had made it in one piece–I had walked to Greece!!!

There was no time to celebrate however, I had to get transport to an airport and get out of there. All I could see were hills around the boarder, no settlements at all. I asked a group of taxi drivers if they take Leke (the Albanian currency), they shook their heads. There was no bank or currency exchange in sight, I asked them and they confirmed that there were none here, they told me I would have to go back through the boarder to the Albanian side where the was a bank–shit. It took me 20 minutes to go back through the boarder, but I made it and I found the bank. Inside sat a girl who smiled politely as I came to the hatch, I asked if she could please change my Leke into Euros, She said that yes they usually could, but that unfortunately the machine involved was not working today and it was her first day so she was unable to help me at all, Marvellous! What the hell could I do? I was trapped there: No other banks–that was it. Then a shady fellow, round as a barrel sidled up to me from the shadows and said, "You needa exchange?"

I looked at him, this dodgy fat bloke from nowhere, he held in his hand a thick wedge of Euros and waved them slightly with a grin. What other choice did I have? I said, "Yes, what is your rate?"

He didn't seem to understand this and things began to get a little heated, I could see that I might lose this chance or worse so I began to count my Leke out in front of him and indicated that he should do the same for what he would give me. This he understood and counted out a fair deal in Euros. We swapped our notes

together keeping a hand on each until we had the other. It went pretty smoothly I felt and shook the guy's hand, he gave me a wide smile and then vanished around the corner again. Shit! I thought, what if the money he had just given me was fake? What it if was printed out or something? Then I realised–what choice did I have?

I proceeded to go back again through the boarders and was met with the same people who checked me through the first time. Obviously they were more than a little suspicious as to why I was going in circles through the boarder, with a big rucksack and a cheesecloth vest on a freezing September morning. I explained what had happened and they had a good laugh about it then let me through. Finally–I had made it to Greece–again . . . I talked with the taxi dudes again and asked them to take me to the nearest place with airport links. I was told that it would cost me 50E! I thought that was a crazy amount and so I offered 35E. That didn't go down very well and the guy walked away, I followed him and offered 40E, he shook his head, I then offered 45E . . . The guy had me over a barrel and when he smiled and shook his head again I knew it. I looked at the road–there was little chance of getting a hitch on since it was practically empty, my feet were fucked and I had promised my body that I would not walk once in Greece. "Fine!" I exclaimed, "50 Euro."

The guy took me to his taxi. I remembered that it was only money, what was important was that I got home safely, what choice did I have? The Universe was probably enjoying my capering and I imagined the mirth that I might be inspiring, it felt pretty good. The taxi guy drove us off into the Grecian hills. Greece was spectacular, so much green, so many beautiful white-walled towns, such warm sun. We arrived in Kastoria, a gorgeous town on a glistening lake, It had been a long drive so I can see why he wanted 50E, I didn't begrudge it him. On leaving he told me to hop on a bus to Argos Orestiko where I would find me an airport, and then he bade me good luck. I thanked him and headed for the buses. It was easy to find the bus I needed and I was soon at Argos O. Once there I walked about 2km to the airport 'Kratikos,' as I approached it in the midday sun I noticed a few minor details:

1- it was deserted.

2- it was tiny.

Still, what could I do but go in and check it out–I trusted the Universe and it had led me there. I found a few lovely dough balls in syrup on the roadside en-route which was a nice bonus! Inside the airport I found that it was actually in use, but that they didn't fly to the UK–it was an internal airport. They told me that I could fly to Athens and from there, the UK. The only problem was that I was out of cash and they had a problem with their card machine, oh great! Another woman came to check out what was going on and after they had a discussion, they managed to find a way for me to pay online and thus within an hour, I was on a small jet flying to Athens!

From Athens I booked a flight to London, waited a night in the airport and then got on my plane the next day.

As it took off I realised that I was doing the thing that I had wanted to do for weeks–I was going home. I had completed my quest and I was going home, but I felt no different. I was still MossDogg, I was the same guy and then I saw it–I had always been me! The truth about life is that we don't add layers to ourselves, we strip them away, discovering the truth of who we are and what we are capable of beneath, as we go. I was going home and it felt so good. Thank you for coming with me :) MossDogg xxx

# Document Outline

  * Mossdogg. Philosophy, Spirituality and Extreme Travel: 'How I Walked from England to Greece.' 
  * Dedication
  * Synopsis
  * A conversation. 
  * How I Walked from England to Greece. 
    * April 2016: England. Background. 
    * June 2016: England. Packing
    * June 13th – 17th 2016: England
      * Day 1
      * Day 2
      * Day 3
      * Day 4
    * June 17th – July 14th 2016: France
      * Day 5
      * Day 6
      * Day 7
      * Day 8
      * Day 9
      * Day 10
      * Day 11
      * Day 12
      * Day 13
      * Day 14
      * Day 15
      * Day 16
      * Day 17
      * Day 18
      * Day 19
      * Day 20
      * Day 21
      * Day 22
      * Day 23
      * Day 24
      * Day 25
      * Day 26
      * Day 27
      * Day 28
      * Day 29
      * Day 30
      * Day 31
    * July 14th-July 22nd 2016. Germany. 
      * Day 32
      * Day 33
      * Day 34
      * Day 35
      * Day 36
      * Day 37
      * Day 38
      * Day 39
    * July 22nd-31st 2016. Austria
      * Day 40
      * Day 41
      * Day 42
      * Day 43
      * Day 44
      * Day 45
      * Day 46
      * Day 47
      * Day 48
    * July 31st-August 12th 2016. Italy
      * Day 49
      * Day 50
      * Day 51
      * Day 52
      * Day 53
      * Day 54
      * Day 55
      * Day 56
      * Day 57
      * Day 58
      * Day 59
      * Day 60
    * August 12th-16th 2016. Slovenia
      * Day 61
      * Day 62
      * Day 63
      * Day 64
    * August 16th-Sepember 9th 2016. Croatia
      * Day 65
      * Day 66
      * Day 67
      * Day 68
      * Day 69
      * Day 70
      * Day 71
      * Day 72
      * Day 73
      * Day 74
      * Day 75
      * Day 76
      * Day 77
      * Day 78
      * Day 79
      * Day 80
      * Day 81
      * Day 82
      * Day 83
      * Day 84
      * Day 85
      * Day 86
      * Day 87
      * Day 88
    * September 9th-14th 2016. Monte Negro
      * Day 89
      * Day 90
      * Day 91
      * Day 92
      * Day 93
    * September 14th-22nd 2016. Albania
      * Day 94
      * Day 95
      * Day 96
      * Day 97
      * Day 98
      * Day 99
      * Day 100
      * Day 101
    * September 22nd 2016. Greece
      * Day 102

