Following the wall was easier said than done. There was no path whatsoever, the bracken seemed taller than ever, and the ground it was growing on contorted and virtually impossible to walk on. My side of the wall there was a kind of rocky trench but it had a stream in it. I somehow stumbled down this feature in a semi-delirious state, shouting out all sorts of things into the night air. I repeatedly fell. It was so hard to stay upright on this terrible terrain. At one point I fell into a hollow on my back and like a stranded beetle with arms and legs waving in the air I couldn’t right myself for some moments.
My friends, the SNOD marathon never, ever gets as bad as this.
I did find eventually find an old crumbling wall cutting right across my route and beyond it, a fence. I had finally arrived at the bottom of the mountain and reached the edge of the forestry. It was just a matter of turning left and following this wall down to the far corner where there would be a stile, and once over it not long until civilisation.
The LG - yes, but I think Capt. R F Scott and Co. had it somewhat harder than me! (I'm still a little puzzled why they didn't set out for that 11-mile journey to reach another cache of food, if their lives depended on it. I think they had got to completely empty and probably semi-conscious on their feet and unable to think clearly.)
brer - your original target a year or two back was to do 12 marathons in 12 months. What's happened to you?
'I do not think I can hope for any better things now. I shall stick it out to the end, but I am getting weaker, of course, and the end cannot be far. It seems a pity, but I do not think I can write more.' T Rex