As promised, a date has now been set for the official launch of the book, to be held at the Fulford Arms, next to the Police Station on Fulford Road in York, on Wednesday 16th October from 5 pm until 8. It may go on later if the party mood prevails...
Book-signings, celebrity photos, real ale and more!

Free courier service!

Many excuses are due to one and all for the prolonged gap since the last post.
 As many of you will know, Angela has been diagnosed with cancer since then, which has taken up our time and attention over the last couple of months. Although it has manifested itself in the pelvis we have been assured it is not connected to any of the seemingly obvious possible catalysts, i.e. hip surgery or long-distance walking. She is currently at home receiving care from the family and plenty of good home cooking!

On a happier note the book* has now been printed, having gone through various changes of shape and style, and is available for sale direct from York Publishing Services (tel. 01904 430868)** for £10.95 + p&p, or if you live near Fulford, York, by phoning Skylark Press on 01904 629000 or emailing skylarkpress@outlook.com, to request a FREE courier service to your door! Makes an ideal birthday/Christmas present or stocking-filler!!


*'FREEDOM TO ROME: a long walk', Nick Warlow & Angela Michel: Skylark Press, York, 2013, ISBN 978-0-9926947-0-8.

** The direct link to buy a copy in the most simple and straightforward fashion is  http://www.ypdbooks.com/travel-and-adventure/928-freedom-to-rome-a-long-walk-YPD00859.html


PS. There will be a PARTY to launch the book on its own journey in the next few weeks. Watch this space for further details...

FAQ

The questions people always have are:

“Why did you want to walk to Rome?”;

“Why did you want to walk to Rome?”; and, occasionally,

“Why did you want to walk to Rome?”

There are some others like: “How many pairs of boots did you get through?”; and then again: “Where did you sleep at night?”; “Which way did you go?”; “How long did it take?”; “How many miles was it?”; “Were you being sponsored?”;  “Were there any dangerous wild animals?”; and “What did you do when you got there?”

They are all quite easy to answer:

- 3 pairs of boots/8 soles.

- 33 nights with friends/friends of friends; 23 at pilgrims’ hostels;  22 at B&Bs; 21 at pubs/bars; 15 at youth hostels; 10 at hotels; 7 with Hospitality Club;  7 at hikers’ hostels/bunkhouses; 5 with Servas members; 3 with Couchsurfing; 3 in caravans; 2 in abbeys; 1 on a ferry; 1 with a random stranger.

- From York through the east of England to Harwich; ferry to Hook of  Holland; through the south of Holland to near Antwerp then across Belgium (Flanders) to Maastricht/Aachen; down through SW Germany via Frankfurt to the Black Forest; then up and down over Switzerland into Italy; round Milan via the plains of the Po, over the Apennines then down through Tuscany and Bob’s your uncle.

- We left our house in Fulford on March 1^st and arrived in St Peter’s Square in Rome on August 1^st, so exactly 5 months.

- A total of 1920 miles/3072 kilometres in 124 days of actual walking, so an average of about 15½ miles per day.

- We were raising money for Medecins Sans Frontieres to be able to stock mobile operating theatres in war zones and disaster areas.

- There were a few groups of wild boar and a couple of snakes, and once we came across a herd of unidentifiable wild animals ‒ something in between sheep and goats and deer.

- We slept a lot. It was boiling hot in Rome in August, so we’d go out and do the tourist bit in the mornings then have a siesta for a few hours then go out again at night. We stayed for just over a week which included a day in Ostia, the old port-city nearby, then got a ferry to Barcelona and made our way home by train and boat through France and England.

So that’s the easy ones answered. The difficult ones are the questions which people didn’t or couldn’t ask, like: “How did you manage to keep on going?”; “How many larks did you hear?”; “How many beers did you drink?”; and of course: “Why did you want to walk to Rome?”

 I can tell you roughly how many larks we had heard before we left England because

we were counting them, and the 200^th was heard at the same moment that we passed 300 miles on the pedometer, on the last day, heading for Harwich. There must have been another 50 or so on the continent but we began to see and hear other birds then like cuckoos and kites, storks and orioles.

Beer, we discovered, is the chosen drink of the pilgrim, and by the time we got to Italy and joined the Pilgrims’ Way to Rome we already understood why. What better drink could there be at the end of a long hot day’s walk? Wine is not thirst-quenching enough, lemonade or Coke is too sweet. Fizzy water came close, but didn’t quite hit the spot.

We did manage to keep on going. Partly it was due to the fact that we had a destination to aim for, partly that we had committed to fulfilling a promise to all the people who had sponsored us. It helped if we broke each day down into sections, so we would do two or three hours then have a break; another two and stop for lunch; then a chunk of two hours, or two smaller bits of an hour and a half, before arriving at the next destination for the night, depending how far we had to go. This varied according to the terrain and also the availability of places to stay, so sometimes we would have to go further than we wanted to because there was nowhere to stop sooner, like the day we crossed the Alps at the St Gotthard Pass – there was no option but to keep on walking for hours in the pouring rain on the other side until we arrived at a place with a bed.

I suppose the answer to the question “why?” is hard because the answer changed as we went along. At the beginning we said we wanted to go for a long walk to celebrate, because finally Angela could walk again after a protracted problem with her hips had led to them being replaced with metal and ceramic joints. In the middle we were doing it because we could ‒ we were of a certain age with no responsibilities which demanded our presence at home, we could let out the house for the time it would take and we were still fit enough to undertake such an adventure. At the end we had done it because we had never been to Rome and we were just glad to be there: after all it’s one of the places everyone should see before they die. And then through and under it all lay a thread we had to follow ‒ which ran beyond specific times and places but made a connection between here and there ‒ the pilgrim’s trail, a microcosm of life’s journey, like treading an ancient labyrinth. People in the Middle Ages may have travelled to Rome or Santiago or Jerusalem to gain extra points towards their chances of going to Heaven, but I bet that when they’d done it many felt rewarded enough by the very experience of doing it…

SOME SPRINGTIME PICTURES

Our first steep climb in Germany.

A mossy glade in Holland.

The Fens, England

April scene.

Beech woods in Germany.

Spotted on the wayside!

  in the midday heat 

extract

and now for a wee taster...    



(From the introduction)
...In many ways we were extraordinarily naïve long-distance walkers. For a start we had no extensive training or experience: we had once in about 5BC (Before Children) walked from the south coast of Spain to the highest peak in the Sierra Nevada, about ten thousand feet up, in three days, and five years ago went up Helvellyn one day at the end of January, and that was about it. We practised for this trip by walking out of York for 15 miles and getting the bus home on several weekends through the winter. Furthermore we had no specialist hiking gear. We went to an outdoor gear shop and bought lightweight rucksacks, sleeping bags, trousers and a T-shirt or two, but didn’t take a tent, along with all the accessories needed for bivouacking out on mountainsides like cooking-pots, gas stoves etc. We didn’t buy new specialist anoraks, relying on our old showerproof jackets, and we didn’t buy those special hiking sticks like ski-sticks. We did need to buy a couple of regional maps in Germany but once we hit the E1 we only needed Arthur Krause’s excellent guide (Kompass, Innsbruck) until we got to Italy, where we had to purchase one local map to make the connection back to the E1, and then from Pavia had the invaluable collection of maps of the Via Francigena with directions in Italian and English (Terre di Mezzo, Milan).

The trip was planned with meticulous foresight in the certain knowledge that:

a)  we didn’t want to book every night’s accommodation before we left;

b)  we wanted to be able to change each day’s route or destination at the drop of a hat depending on the weather, tiredness, hunger, etc. ;

c)  nothing would go according to plan anyway, but

d)  we would cover at least the minimum number of miles needed to walk from York to Rome....

(So we got as far as Holland, and left Goudereede on March 26th)...

DAY 26   GOUDEREEDE – OUDE TONGE (26 km.)   Even warmer.  c19º


(We went off through the village) to find the Deltapad, a long-distance footpath which goes across the Maas/Rhine delta towards Antwerp. We had been advised that it went through an area called the Slikken, which until 1971 was a large mudflat and salt marsh influenced by the tides. After the building of the dams, it became dry land populated by scrub, bushes and small trees, but the path took us through a kind of primeval swamp. We had to take our boots off and wade in the water, which soon became knee deep for about two kilometres. It seems that at high tide – or perhaps at exceptional spring tides – the water is pushed up above ground level. In any case it wasn’t rainwater as it hadn’t rained for weeks. A unique biosphere is created: the pools contained quantities of frog-spawn, and who knows what was lurking in the mud underfoot, but we pressed on, thinking “this must surely end just around the corner”. We had been warned not to wander into the undergrowth beside the path for fear of catching Lime disease from ticks, but no-one had mentioned the fact that we would have to negotiate this replica of the Florida Everglades!

After emerging from the swamp with freezing fizzing feet we walked beside reclaimed land next to herds of semi-wild Fjord horses, deer and oxen which have been introduced over the last 30 years to graze upon the recently sown grasses. We finally came upon a sea-dyke we could walk upon with our faces to a stiff breeze, past whirring wind turbines, looking out over the inland sea on our right. We passed the bridge over to the next island and found our way to Oude Tonge, a fishing village, where we looked for a place to stay and discovered a little hotel in the main square.

There we stopped for the night, after having a beer at The Goat, where various members of the landlord’s family and friends engaged us in conversation and gave us useful tips about travelling in southern Holland while a 70-year-old African parrot cackled hilariously in the background....

( Later - much later - in the Black Forest)...

DAY 74  FORBACH – OCHSENSTALL (22 km.)  Cool but clearer.  c12º

We set off on another cold morning to rejoin the E1 at the top of the hill near a reservoir, meeting an old couple in their eighties dressed in very old-fashioned hiking gear – or was it just their traditional Sunday best? ‒ on their way down towards Forbach. The track continued to wind its way up and up: when the sun came out it was quite warm but very chilly in the shade. And there was a lot of shade! Occasionally the path, which was a gravel track wide enough for a forestry vehicle, would emerge from the dense dark canopy of the pinewoods and a wide panorama would unfold on our right hand side. There were a lot of groups about again – “Sunday walkers!”, we caught ourselves smirking once ‒  some of whom seemed to have to shout at each other even when walking very close together, and many off-road cyclists who spent a lot of time whizzing downhill and not much time struggling up, as far as we could see. The path ran alongside the main road, the picturesque Schwarzwaldhoherstraße (Blackforesthighroad) to a bikers’ caff, where a delightful narrow footpath veered off to the left into the woods up to Ochsenstall, which is an amazing old wooden chalet-type bunkhouse, specially built in the early 1900s for summer hikers and winter skiers (*Fig. 20). The walls of the large café/common room downstairs were covered with old photos of tanned men climbing sheer rock-faces in plus-fours and fingerless gloves, or ladies standing on skis with long dresses covering their ankles, with captions like “OCHSENSTALL, 1908”. The place is now run by a young couple, and she said she’d cook us whatever we fancied since we were the only guests. However as it was getting dark another walker arrived: Konrad, a German of about 35 or 40 who spoke Russian and Polish and had done a lot of farm-work all over Europe. He was walking on the Westweg heading north from Basel and told us there were quite a few cheap places to stay the next night in Kniebis. He said he might set off with us in the morning and go down to Mummelsee, which is a small lake famous in German folklore.

(to be continued...)

Book to be published!!

BIG  NEWS

Nick has been scribbling and typing for months to put together a book, by popular demand, ever since he and Angela got back from their mammoth walk from York to Rome last September, 6 months after leaving home.
After preliminary conversations with a publisher we are looking at getting it up and printed by July this year and will have a thousand copies immediately available for purchase by you and/or all your friends!
It will be called  FREEDOM TO ROME : The long walk;  more information will be posted here as it arrives.
For those of you who don't know the authors, they are us:

Angela Michel was born in Germany in 1955 and moved to England in 1974, where she has resided ever since. She has worked as a teacher at a school based on the principles of Rudolf Steiner for many years as a language teacher and a class teacher, and has also been leading various community choirs in York, Leeds and Hull as well as singing with Soundsphere and Chechelele. She has mothered 3 children who are all now fine upstanding adults;
Nick Warlow was born in Wales in 1952 and has lived in France, Scotland and Yorkshire. He has worked as a barman, Spanish teacher, cleaner, lumberjack, nursery and kindergarten teacher/manager and most recently at the British Library. He has been singing with Chechelele for about 15 years and has fathered 3 children who are equally upstanding; two of them are shared with Angela.