Part one
2019 - 2021
2019
We all know where this is going, no month is necessary. I am now in a managerial position at my hospital trust, as well as working as a surgeon. Our daughter is finishing her masters at University College, London (my Dad’s alma mater) and then she is coming home to save up for a year’s travelling in Australia, prior to finding a proper job. Our youngest is studying Media Production at City College in Norwich and, following a difficult few years, the middle one is hoping to do a foundation course prior to going back into higher education. He is also living on and off in Airbnbs.
We have discussed our fantasy walk often, now starting perhaps closer to home. Yvonne Wilson, a retired colleague I go walking with, and Darren Morrow, a current colleague with a penchant for long distance walks, have both offered to help us if we need it. My Dad is 98 but still driving and living independently and Rich’s Mum has cancer but is also still managing on her own (though she has given up driving). Our preliminary plan is to do the walk in 2020 but, even before Covid, we can see that this might prove difficult and nothing has been finalised, except that our first stop will be at The Ostrich pub in Castle Acre.
There is a storm coming.
Early 2020
Sunday and I’m reading about the consequences of Covid 19 in Northern Italy. Like Norfolk, they have an ageing population. There are cases in London and I am rattled. Covid would be devastating for our population. I call Tim Leary, Chief of the Surgical Division and my managerial boss. He and my anaesthetic opposite number, Mike Irvine, have come at things from an anaesthetic angle: how can they anaesthetise someone who might be infected with a killer virus? We arrange to meet with our surgical Service Directors the following day. All of us agree to suspend elective operating except for very urgent cases. Government advice at this stage is non-existent. We are in this on our own.
By March we are locked down. Cathy is no longer going to Australia – lockdown came a week before she was due to depart. Robert has been collected from Saleem’s ‘shed’, where he has been living. Although Robert describes it as a shed, it is in fact a well-appointed, self-contained building and Saleem has been very kindly keeping a discreet eye on our son. Robert is mentally very unwell and weighs less than 60kg, despite the broad 6’4” frame he has inherited from his father. We cannot visit my Dad or Richard’s Mum and the long period of isolation affects both of them badly. I cannot see my remaining sister, Janet, or her family either.
Mid 2020
We have put all our surgical doctors on emergency rotas and some, including Darren, have to shield. I am working hard, while the rest of my family is for the most part stuck at home, battling with remote working wherever possible. I take off my clothes and shower as soon as I get in because we do not know who has Covid and, as yet, there is no vaccine and no cure. Operating is performed in full PPE that makes my nose bleed.
By the summer, things are a bit more relaxed and we all go on holiday to Scotland in August. The five of us climb Cairn Gorm and run the gauntlet of Scottish midges on our descent. The break is really refreshing, but we haven’t talked about our walk for weeks. There are more important things to consider.
November 2020
Janet calls. She has found our Dad trapped on the floor and incoherent. She has called an ambulance. He is now 99 and up until the day before was driving to get his shopping. I have seen him only a handful of times since the beginning of the pandemic. The following day, I am called by a lovely medical junior doctor from the Royal Surrey County Hospital. She doesn’t think my Dad will last the day and can I come as soon as possible? I drive down with an overnight bag to find that Dad has rallied. He has been put on a palliative pathway though, so my sister and I can visit. We both stay, together with her husband Philip, at our old family home. The bed I’m sleeping in has not been replaced since before I was born, so I get up early and go to the hospital, leaving my sister and her husband to have some much-needed rest.
I stay the following night at my father’s bedside, as he is frail and frightened. He is better in the morning and the palliative team decide to treat him with some antibiotics. I am so grateful that I have got to spend this precious time with him and my sister. I go home towards the end of the week, while his placement in a nursing home is being arranged.
By the end of December, we are back in lockdown again, thanks to the very virulent delta variant. I am not really permitted to see my Dad as my sister is his designated visitor, but I am allowed one visit as I have driven so far to see him. He cries when he sees me and again when I cannot lie about whether he can ever go home. He just wants to go home or be with our mother (who died in 2017) and who can blame him?
January 2021
My Dad dies peacefully on 4th January. The funeral on 21st January 2021 is a cold and sombre affair. We have limited it to close family only as Robert is still very light despite two hospital admissions and is shielding. Janet’s son Timothy is also classed as extremely vulnerable as he is undergoing chemotherapy for a brainstem glioma that has returned with a vengeance over lockdown. It’s good to spend time with all of them and Helen’s family too, a welcome light in very dark times.
I have spent most of the month writing and rewriting rotas and facilitating as much elective surgery as possible. I am exhausted and the walk is nowhere in my headspace. I am bone tired, but everyone has to keep going. I constantly remind myself that my Dad said that the worst of it would be over by September/October 2021 and he was the wisest man I ever met. As ever, he was not too far wrong.
30/09/2021
As Covid starts proliferating again, I mention the walk in passing to a few people, perhaps to give me something to look forward to. I don’t want anyone to hear it ‘on the grapevine’, so I decide to tell my secretary, Gemma, about my plans. She is really enthusiastic and tells me that I should write a blog so people can follow us on our journey. As ever, it’s a seed that takes hold and I can’t quite seem to shake the idea. She also tells me we need a name and a logo for the venture and so The HocWalk is born (with apologies to JK Rowling and huge thanks for not copyrighting the font).
October/November 2021
Richard’s Mum, Maureen, has also been progressively deteriorating over the last few months. Rich had already arranged to travel up to her home in Cumbria to see her, but she is admitted to hospital in Carlisle acutely unwell. He drives the six hours anyway, but he is not allowed to visit because of the virulence of the new omicron Covid variant. He never sees her again.
Rich is due to travel north once more on 1st November. He does not want to drive there over the weekend as I have Friday, Saturday and Sunday on-call, but, as a consultant, at least it’s non-resident. Maureen dies at home in the early hours of 1st November. Her funeral is held on 15th November 2021. Rich does a beautiful eulogy and the service is well-attended in the lovely church at Hayton. Few people come back for the wake, probably because of the Covid risk.
04/12/2021
It’s already December and nothing is planned. In particular, I have not requested the ‘Career Break’ time off work. Until that is approved, The HocWalk is not officially happening. Rich and I sit down with a Road Atlas (yes, really) to work out approximately how long it will take so that I can request the requisite leave time, and I start the Excel spreadsheet that will become our walk bible.
When do we start? How far do we do in a day? Can we incorporate any known routes, and do we want to? Do we have rest days and how often? When will we finish? We decide to walk around 15 miles a day for 5 days with 2 rest days after that. We don’t want to be in Scotland in July because of the midges, but we want to start after the children’s birthdays in May and June and, as Darren has told us, we need to get to Cape Wrath before the ferry closes for the winter.
First things first, when does the Cape Wrath ferry close? The answer is 30th September, so ideally we want to finish the walk before then to avoid a long walk back from the point at the end of the trip. We then roughly plot the days, including rest days, that it will take to arrive on or before 30th September. We add in a week’s leeway in addition to the rest days just in case. Rich measures 15 miles out on the road atlas with his thumb and I write down the stops in the spreadsheet. He swears that this will be accurate and who can argue with the doyenne of map-reading?
The beginning itself looks to be difficult as we soon realise that we can only navigate the fens by locating the river crossing points. East Anglian bridges are few and far between and these will be determining the skeleton for our early route. It turns out that most waymarked routes are not going to help us (we had wondered about the Pennine Way originally) and the only one we are including in its entirety is the West Highland Way. By the time we get to Glasgow, we’ll most likely be desperate for someone else to be route-finding.
06/12/2021
Yvonne and I have not met up to walk for over a year because of Covid. We were due to meet in August after we went on holiday to Shetland, but Robert had the delta variant. We rearranged for 15th November, but that was the day of Maureen’s funeral. Third time lucky, we meet up at her house on 6th December.
It is cold and rainy, but we decide to go anyway. As we are packing to leave, my sister Janet rings. She is travelling to the Isle of Wight, but her son Timothy has been taken to his local A&E with increasing headache and confusion. We agree that she’ll keep me posted. It’s been a hell of a year.
The rain worsens and Yvonne comments that my kit is a bit out of date and I’ll need some new to do this walk. Some of it is over 30 years old and bought for the Coast to Coast walk, so it’s amazing it’s not completely threadbare. Needless to say, I am completely drenched by the end of the walk and have also had to use her ski pole for some of the muddy bits. It occurs to both of us that my fitness is not what it should be. The pandemic has meant that I have stopped regular Zumba classes, not been to Cumbria to climb and have visited patients on wards less and less to minimise contact. The omens are not great. Just as well we are going up to Cumbria the following day for some practice.
07/12/2021
We are packing to go up to the hills and start clearing Rich’s mother’s bungalow, with its stunning view of the North side of Skiddaw. Just as we are leaving, Janet calls again. Timothy has worsened and is being transferred to the Hospice in the Weald. She is cutting short her break on the Isle of Wight. We agree that I will go up to Cumbria as planned and come to visit Tim at the weekend.
My sense of foreboding increases as the day progresses and I send regular WhatsApp messages to Janet and Tim’s wife, Zoë. Ultimately, I call my sister Helen’s husband and he agrees that Janet needs me by her side right now. I am distracted all evening and cry myself to sleep. Over breakfast the next day, Rich tells me that we are going back down South. We sort out some of Maureen’s clothes so we have at least achieved something and arrange for wonderful Tony the taxi to pick Rich up just off the A1 and I will drive down to Kent.
The next few days are a surreal blur. Tim’s wife is staying with him at the hospice so very kindly lets me stay at their flat. It’s clear that things have been difficult for them for a long time. Janet’s daughter Alex drives down from Wetherby and brings her daughter, Ariella, who I meet for the first time. A rare silver lining in the gloom. Tim has improved on steroids and stabilised by the weekend, so I wend my weary way home with a promise to be back in two weeks’ time if not before. Tim reminds me that Thomas needs new trousers. How does he know this?
17/12/2021
I accost Darren after work to ask him about kit. Darren knows everything there is to know about both walking gear and internet shopping. He tells me about a website for kit called Ultralight Outdoors and a bespoke lightweight pack manufacturer called Atom Pack. He offers to bring his kit in next week for me to have a look at it. I check the websites. Ultralight Outdoors is in Teeside and Atom Pack is in Keswick and they both do face to face appointments by prior arrangement.
18/12/2021
I am going down to the Hospice in the Weald again. Thomas wants to come with me but new Covid restrictions are in place, so he is not allowed to visit. I am planning to go there and back in a day, so I don’t pack an overnight bag.
When I arrive, Tim has clearly deteriorated, but is not too bad and smiles when I tell him that the trousers are excellent and thank him for the advice. I spend the day with him, Janet, her husband, Philip and Zoë, and the day passes amicably. In the evening, Zoë goes home to get some rest, but suddenly Tim is struggling to breathe. I call Zoë and go and pick her up to be by Tim’s side. A kind nurse takes Janet and I aside and tells her not to go home. Janet and Philip get a relatives’ room in the hospice. I agree to stay in the recliner in Tim’s room to help Zoë look after him overnight.
The next morning, he becomes more peaceful for a few moments then gently stops breathing altogether. He is 43.
19/12/2021
I am due to start on-call tomorrow cross-covering with Darren. As we sit with Tim’s body in the hospice, a WhatsApp message comes through. Darren has Covid. I message back and tell my colleagues that I don’t think I can work tomorrow either. I get personal messages back from my colleagues and Rob, our Service Director, tells me not to come back to work before Friday which is Christmas Eve.
My children have lost their grandmother and their cousin in the space of only a few weeks and I am grateful that I can be at home with my sons and there for my daughter, who is isolating in London following a positive Covid test. We are all devastated, even though it was expected. There is no reason now not to do The HocWalk in 2022 and walk every step in remembrance.
27/12/2021
I am finally not working today and Cathy has come home having recovered from Covid, so we celebrate Christmas Day. It is a relaxed and surprisingly joyous occasion. The turkey has just about lasted though needed a good wash before cooking.
I finish on-call on the Friday and then have a few days leave in lieu of the Bank Holidays worked. I am going back on the 6th of January and I plan to submit my ‘Career Break’ leave forms that first day back.