Over the past five months or so I’ve been trying to convince everyone (myself included) that I’m quite sensible and will be fine travelling solo to the other side of the world… and then I go and prove the exact opposite by not only getting lost, but getting lost in the Dorset countryside whilst accompanied by two other people – one of them being “a seasoned scout leader”.
Less than 12 hours earlier, the weekend had already started off on the wrong foot. Having arrived at the station 15mins early for our train we found the ticket queue to be longer than The Great Wall of China and of course only one window was open. Typical. We got to the front of the queue with minutes to spare and just as we were about to pay, the bright spark serving us decided now was the time to cancel our transaction and see if there was a better discount we could use. There was not. We made it through the ticket barriers just as the train pulled out of the station. Balls. Onto plan B… we could get the train to another station and change instead of waiting an hour for the next direct train.
20mins later we arrived at said station. Pretty certain of the train we needed to get, but not trusting ourselves, we went and asked a train man to confirm it for us. The guy on the customer enquiries desk (who was on the phone the entire time he was talking to us!) couldn’t have looked or acted more disinterested. He mumbled the train we needed to get, which was not the one we thought, and off we went to catch it. Of course once we were on it and it had pulled out of the station we realised it was the wrong one – which meant another change. So in short, we ended up getting two slow trains, only to end up at a station just a little way down the line, waiting for the train that left our initial location an hour later than the one we missed…
Anyway, after arriving at our destination, doing some food shopping (where we excitedly bought marshmallows to toast over the fire but somehow forgot the skewers) and finding the campsite (which was run by a complete fruit loop!), we started looking forward to the weekend… starting with our morning run.
Now, in case you’re not interested in how this all happened, these are the main lessons I learnt that day and the main points I want people to take note of:
- Always ALWAYS look at a map and figure out a route before setting out
- Take a phone
- Take a camera
- Take some water
- Take a small amount of cash
- Wear sun cream
- Listen to your common sense
- Do not trust maps that have been drawn by locals and stuck to village notice boards
Now you can stop reading. And for those of you who want to hear about the full extent of my stupidity, here’s how it all unfolded:
9am: Alarm goes off. I eventually crawl out of the tent, get ready and spend the next 30mins waiting for the others to do the same.
9.40: The OS map has been unfolded and the other two are arguing about looking at the map. I stay out of it and subsequently don’t take a look myself. Neither do they.
9.50: We set off into the unknown Dorset countryside promising the friend we’re leaving behind that we’ll only be around half an hour.
10.05: We’ve been running for 15 mins. The thought enters my mind that we could turn back now (thus making the run 30mins - genius) but we’ve just turned onto the main road and I figure there’s probably a lane that’ll loop us back round to the campsite in a few hundred yards. The others have looked at the map after all…
10.20: Nobody told me Dorset had hills! The road we’re running along resembles the foothills of the Andes. There’s still no right hand turn in sight.
10.30: We realise we’re going to be nearer to an hour and joke about our friend calling search and rescue. The skies are brilliantly blue and it’s starting to get hot, but for whatever reason none of us mention turning back. There’s definitely a turning on the right and we must nearly be there, so it’s not like we’re not lost or anything.
10.40: YES! We’ve found the turning! The excitement is short-lived when we realise the road takes us uphill. The sun is also getting hotter. I contemplate the health implications of licking a puddle.
10.45: We arrive in a village. East Lulworth to be exact. There’s no one around but there is a tap! We decide not to trust the water and opt to put it on ourselves rather than in ourselves.
10.50: At this point we finally realise that none of us actually looked at the map. Luckily we find a hand-drawn map on the side of an old wooden bus shelter which seems to show the main roads. If the map’s right then we just need to go to the the next junction, turn left and we’ll be there. So off we go again, jogging in an attempt to get back faster. (I’m not convinced we were going any faster than we would have been simply walking.)
11.10: We found the junction!!! The only problem being that there are no road signs. Option A – turn right and run about 200m to the only signpost we can see. Option B – turn left (which is uphill) and follow what the dodgy hand-drawn map said. We end up opting for secret option C – sit in the middle of the main road and talk about how ridiculous this whole expedition is.
11.15: We’ve taken option A, only to find that the signpost doesn’t mention anything that was on the map. Our intentions to ask for directions are completely steamrollered when a delivery van man simply waves back merrily as we try to flag him down. The next two cars don’t even acknowledge our existence. So much for the good of the British people. THANKS A LOT GB.
11.25: Having decided to head back the way we came and up the hill we had initially avoided we find a woman in her garden and ask for some directions. She responds with “you’ll need to go two miles down the road into Wool village, then take the turning on the right and it’s about another two miles from there…” She could’ve said anything after that. I was no longer listening. All that was going on in my head was buzzing and a little voice saying “2 + 2 = 4 MILES!!! Why God WHY?!”
11:35: After a brief chat and much buzzing in my head we left the woman’s house and headed back down the road again, past the signpost where the delivery van man had waved at us. Bastard. Then we walked/jogged for what felt like days.
11.55: Finally arriving in the village, we pop into a bakery (torture) where we ask where the nearest place to get a taxi would be. The station was the answer - which means more walking.
12.00: Like a mirage in the desert, the smallest station I have ever seen appears in front of us and… YES! ONE EMPTY TAXI! IT’S D-E-S-T-I-N-Y. In we jump. The driver is worried we’re going to sweat all over his seats but we don’t care ‘cos it’s OVERRRR!!! 5 mins later we’re back and I’m running AGAIN to get money for the taxi!
The friend we left behind is not too impressed, but luckily none our other friends haven’t arrived yet and thus are completely unaware of our stupidity. We relay our story and swear never to speak of it again. Ever. Until now… sorry guys!
The thing is that despite the fact that we felt guilty about leaving our poor friend alone in a field for two hours, it was actually quite fun. At no point was I annoyed or frustrated with myself because it was all quite funny and a bit like being on an adventure. This probably means I haven’t learnt anything from the experience (let's hope there's no repeat in Oz). My only mild regret was that I didn’t have a camera on me. It wasn’t until eight hours later when I realised the full extent of my sunburn that I felt any real pangs of regret. Three words: t-shirt tan lines.
Oh and you’ll be happy to know that the rest of the weekend was pretty awesome. Aside from the detachable pan handle being accidentally left on the roof of the car, eventually falling off into the middle of the road as we turned out of a junction and subsequently being run over and squashed by a BMW, everything else went pretty smoothly!
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| our route: 12k, 2 hours, 1000 calories burned |
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| just to give you an idea of distance... |
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