The morning started early in Wooler. It was a 4am wake-up call in order to begin the long 18-mile journey to Lindisfarne. So, at 5am, our bags were packed, we had communion together in the hotel lobby, and we began our way through the sunrise to Fenwick, then on to Lindisfarne. However, the night before I was beginning to have trouble with my knees and my right hip. Taking medication, rubbing with a high powered icy-hot, and sleeping with ice on my legs, I still did not feel completely prepared for the walk ahead. By 9am (around 3 hours or less into the trip) I knew I may have not made the best decision in starting the walk from Wooler; the cab to Fenwick may have been a better call. However, here I was … somewhere between Wooler and Fenwick, in pain, trying to move my knees up hills and through rocky pavement and trails. At this time, I called out to the two walkers about 100 yards in front of me (as I was the last one) that I was done; I could walk no longer. They waited for me to catch up and did some stretches and gave me a pep-talk; so I continued on up the hill toward the miles that would take us through the cow pasture. Within that time, I lost sight of everyone. No one was around.
The middle of the Cow Pasture
The picture above shows my location when I knew my body could no longer make the way to Fenwick. I would not make it to the shore to cross the causeway in time to Lindisfarne. No one was around, and I had no idea what I would do. I had no cell service, I had no way to reach anyone from Mac’s Adventures, or our group. All I had was the cows around me, and the farmer driving his 4-wheeler herding them to another pasture. What could I do? The answer was to pop another ibuprofen and keep walking. I made it up the hill where I encountered a beautiful carved statue of St. Cuthbert, and a a few houses around what seemed to be a busy road.
I stood at St. Cuthbert for around 15 minutes before deciding I would ring the doorbell of the nearest home to see about a cab. I had a pleasant conversation with the older gentleman who informed me there wasn’t a way to get a cab to Fenwick. I thanked him for his time and patience with me as a stranger, and I continued up the hill about another mile. Here I stood for 30 minutes. Looking at my phone time-after-time to see what I could possibly do. I ate some trail mix, took a swig of water, and headed out into the woods again, with another benchmark in front of me: St. Cuthbert’s Cave. It took a good 45-minutes, but I made it … one small step at a time, pain in every move. And it was inside the forest of pine trees and beside the rock formation of a cave that I met two lovely friends that would be a seed of God’s grace along this pilgrimage. The Finale post will share this experience, and the one word of God that stayed upon my heart.
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