and I would walk five hundred miles

By the time you read this, if you read it less than three days after it being posted, I will be gallivanting around Great Britain, namely Milton Keynes, Watford, Oxford or London.

But I can’t leave you without a funny story to read, can I?

In 2008 I decided to spend my summer vacation in the UK, namely visiting my cousin in Manchester, meet the lovely Alicia for the first time ((I had met her on the webcomic forum of the guy who later wrote The Martian, which you should totally read. I got her a cool t-shirt.)) and walk around in Wales.

Good plan, right?

Well, on my second day, early in the morning, I was alone at my cousin’s place, I did something really dumb.

I got up from a chair, walked out of the room and rammed my right foot with full force into my cousin’s cross trainer.

Have you ever split your second toe lenghtwise with an axe? No? Me neither, but it felt exactly like I imagine that. I spent the morning letting cold water run across my foot. And because I don’t want to let something ruin my holidays I went out later that day, took a train out of Manchester and walked around some supposedly pretty historical village.

I didn’t appreciate it as much as you might think. But I tied my shoes as tight as possible and rangered on. In pain.
A day or so later I took the train up to West Yorkshire to meet Alicia for the first time and while I could walk, I didn’t enjoy it a lot. During the weekend I spent there ((and I had fun, really!)) I got a pretty bruise in the middle of my foot at the base of my toe.  Colours changed frequently and I’m almost sad I didn’t take pictures. Almost.

After that lovely weekend with Alicia, her friends, parts of her family and my toe I took a train to Bangor, Wales, because the main portion of my vacation was scheduled to be walking around on the beautiful ((and rainy)) Island of Anglesey.

It’s totally cool and there’s trains and buses going everywhere and…aw, screw it. The bus timetables where A LITTLE off and I probably nearly killed my ankle because I was walking funny most of the time and I spent what felt like most of one walking from the Holyhead train station to that beautiful lighthouse. Through pouring rain. On that day I learned that my camera bag was way more watertight than my jacket.

The light house was pretty though and maybe halfway there was an information thingy with interesting things about the birds of the area. And a roof. It was dry. Oh yes.

Oh, this is the light house:

South Stack Lighthouse

Bless the french couple who took me back to the Youth Hostel in Bangor in their car.

Another day was spend in Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch because you can’t be in Wales and not go to their gift shop if you have the chance ((really, there’s not really much more to see than the signs and the gift shop. It also is dry and heated, which I appreciated greatly at the time)).

A much sunnier day was spent walking ((in pain)) from a bus stop to a not frequently-enough served bus stop in front of the socalled “Anglesey Sea Zoo” where I saw fishes, had cake and touched shoal, rays and a shark.


So what do we learn from this?

a) I am a stubborn idiot
b) don’t go hiking with a broken toe ((I never had it x-rayed, but I assume it was))
c) Anglesey is beautiful, but make sure you have a car or bike or something else than your mangled feet and the bus service

2 thoughts on and I would walk five hundred miles

  1. It’s a bit funny I get to polish my mathematics when leaving a comment on your blog. Well, it’s best not to forget one’s lessons, I reckon. Just as it’s nice if your toes learned their lessons this time when they go gallivanting around London and the usual suspect places in your itinerary. They had to, right? Can’t very well leave the minding to Olie, I think.

  2. Pingback my travel bio - all around the world | Olli Crusoe Dot Net

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