It started as an amusing suggestion: “How fun would it be to walk to Scotland?!” Oh how we laughed…

Somehow this moment of stupidity transformed into an actual plan and far too quickly spiraled into a set challenge. As soon as sponsorship began to roll in, we couldn’t back out.

“Training?” People asked us.

“Nah” we responded, “We’ll be fine. Just 15 miles or so a day – no problem.”

No problem? Fast forward two months to the two of us gasping for air as we scurried on hands and knees up the side of a mountain. No problem? I beg to differ…

We had started out optimistic, beginning our 400 mile journey on June 9th from Bath train station. Laden with rucksacks packed to the brim, we set off along the Cotswolds Way, covering just 12 miles. By day 2 we realised that carrying our lives on our backs had a severe downside and that the bags were not only preventing us from walking at a decent speed, but also causing our bodies to suffer a series of bruises, blisters, cuts and aches, none of which were helped by all of the hills we seemed to be hiking up (England, it appears, is on one giant slope which we seemed to be constantly climbing. Typical.)

After speaking to a pub landlord that evening (and discovering that landlords are the wise owls of the walking world), we decided to ditch the bags, finding a way to transport them from A to B so that we only had ourselves to worry about. Things definitely became much simpler from there on out and we were able to fully appreciate the beauty of Jane Austen country. The views we saw were stunning and at points it seemed as though we had walked straight onto a film set. (Although we were still puffing, panting and dripping with sweat. Two flustered girls on the verge of collapse? Mr Darcy eat your heart out…)

Before we knew it, our time in the Cotswolds had come to an end. Just over 100 miles down with 300 left to cover, we felt in much need of a break. Fortunately, my Aunt and Uncle’s house is in a prime position in Derby, close to where the next leg of our walk was due to begin. There we had a brilliant evening of being overfed, with a hot shower and washing machine close to hand. Bliss.

The next day, rested and refreshed with family in tow, we started the next segment of our trek, finding ourselves at the start of the Pennine Way. After a pleasant day of walking and exploring, we bade farewell to the family and were once again alone with just our little tent and a field of sheep for company. After being spoilt rotten over the previous 24 hours, a field of animal poo was quite a come down.

Ah well, onwards and upwards.

Upwards ended up being about right, for just a few days later we found ourselves desperately grappling at the side of a slope leading us up to Kinder Scout; the highest point in the Peak District. Halfway up I braved a look down.

Bugger.

Reaching the top, we were keen to see the views all around but unfortunately, we found ourselves standing in a huge cloud that had settled over the peak. Inevitably, this burst and we were left battling wind and rain as we made our way along the rocky ledge, passing the path we should have taken up to the top, which looked an awful lot safer than our frantic scramble (learning to correctly read a map was also a part of the training we did not do. Ah the beauty of hindsight…)

After a few days in the lower region of the Pennines, we moved up to an area near to the Three Peaks. Not quite ready to climb all three mountains, we took a stab at Pen-y-Gehnt; the first of the three standing at 694m.

Two heart attacks later and we had made it to the top, fortunately with clear enough skies to see the surroundings. Although we had enough energy to climb down and walk back to our campsite, I cannot imagine how so many people manage to climb all three mountains consecutively.

“Challenging” I think they call it.

Pah! Absolute nutters seems more fitting.

Following this we moved up to Haltwhistle, right alongside Hadrian’s Wall, where were spent a fantastic few days walking the Wall and seeing the excavations taking place. Before we knew it, we were spending our last night under canvas; after 4 weeks in a tent, a hostel bed was much needed in Scotland! That being said, our tent treated us very well, withstanding wind and rain and keeping us nice and snug (sometimes a little too snug; on more than one occasion we woke up either kicking each other or in a position that can only be described as borderline spooning. Interesting.)

The final stage of our trip was spent in Edinburgh, roaming the streets, seeing the sights and spending what little money we had left on new clothes (not surprisingly, ours had turned into something resembling filthy rags).

Feet destroyed and covered in a whole array of bruises, but a 35 day walk down with 400 miles successfully completed. So far we have raised £611 for Marie Curie, with at least another £100 still on its way. Overall then, with any luck we will have raised about £750 in total, nearly doubling our initial target, for which we cannot thank everyone enough for their support.

As for now, all we need is our beds. It seems that, oddly, despite leaving the countryside over a week ago, the smell of farmyard still lingers.

Ah Mother Nature… Isn’t she lovely?