Optimism high and blissfully ignorant of the pain awaiting me 22 miles down the trail.

I should be on a train clattering down the tracks sitting exhausted but blissfully staring out the window at the countryside that only hours before I’d been hiking. I should be exhausted from four days of hiking the North Downs Way, satisfied with having covered nearly 100 miles. I should be reveling in the glory of achieving such a challenging accomplishment.

But I am not. I am sitting on my couch watching a World Cup match resting blistered feet and a mildly bruised ego. After all, I was somewhat certain that despite my lack of conditioning and slightly strained knee, I would rise to the challenge and impress massive masses of people who knew I was plodding toward the coast. Unfortunately, reality hit at mile 10. There was a slight reprieve about mile 14 but at mile 20, on a steep downhill, the bottoms of my feet felt like they were shredding. And they were. It was also about the spot where I learned that it is possible for shins to cramp – and keep cramping for quite some time.

Still optimistic at this point that views from the cliffs in Dover were just days away.

My hiking companion and I limped into Otford, ate dinner at The Bull pub and I pretended the reason I didn’t get up for two and a half hours was because I really had no place to go, having reached our Day 1 destination. It wasn’t until I got up to go to the loo that I had to confess the real reason I hadn’t moved was because I couldn’t – or my body wouldn’t. There was certainly a full blown rebellion from waste down.

But the pain didn’t diminish the enjoyment of 7 hours of hiking. We set off at 6:30 am and made our way out of the city up a rise to the trail that unfortunately paralleled a major thoroughfare. Soon enough it diverged however, and we enjoyed quiet rolling hills covered in maturing wheat. Views across the valley were more than worth the effort to get out and see them.

As we sat at the pub and I had to come to grips with reality that the dream (delusion?) was over and the best option was the train station two blocks away, I determined I’d return. The North Downs proved itself a formidable opponent for a middle-aged, under-conditioned hiker. But although I may be short on accomplishment this time, I am long on determination. I will enjoy the view along the cliffs after having walked miles to get there.

Here are a few other images from an enjoyable day outdoors.

One of many rolling views of the valley to the right.

About mile 8. Optimism still running pretty high.

Our watering hole first (Yes, we used a filter).

Four Cows of the Apocolypse - don't think they were happy we nicked their water.

The trail down to Otford and the end of a long day.

I haven’t blogged for close to three months. I could say my time has been filled with intensive sprints up and down steep grades, weight workouts that would make a rugby player wilt and long hikes through the English country side building the stamina of a Kenyan marathoner – all in preparation for my Dorking to Dover hike (wrote about it here) along the North Downs Way.

I could say all that….but it’d be a lie. Truth is I’ve spent time running around London chasing after a bunch of guys from The Upstream Collective with a video camera, over to Paris where I suffered through delicious chocolate crepes, long lines at EuroDisney and a sprint along slick cobble stone lanes through Pere Lachaise Cemetery to spend five minutes at Jim Morrison’s (The Doors) grave site before sprinting back to the subway in an attempt to make an appointment on the other side of town (and was one minute late).

Somewhere along the way I strained a tendon in my knee (aggrevating it by paying more attention to the Eiffel Tower than walking in the dark) so haven’t been training for the 100 miles that lie ahead. Undaunted, but mildly concerned, I’ll launch out this week for the big trip. Concerned because to complete the ramble (as we call it here in the UK) I’ll need to cover about 25 miles a day to finish the trail in  four days.

Some of the challenge of the trip is that the North Downs occasionally brushes past a few villages but unfortunately more times than not an additional 1-2 miles is required to hoof it into town. Not interested in the extra mileage so for lunch I’ll dine on the packaged cuisine of PowerBars and Oberto beef jerky.

Most of my countrymen don’t know that “pubs” is actually short for “public houses” and aren’t just for for sampling wheat and barely in liquid form. Pubs also offer lodging – cheap lodging in many cases – and I’m counting on cheap lodging since I’m not hauling a tent, sleeping bag or much of anything else. Along the way should pass some castles, hike along an old Roman Road, see a bunch of WWII stuff, choke down several pounds of fish ‘n chips in the evening and walk along the white cliffs that lead into Dover. Provided I survive it all the way to Dover, I’ll enjoy the train ride home and post an account of the big adventure in a week’s time.

And aside from taking occasional  “creative license,” the story will (mostly) be accurate.

There, it’s out there, public for all to see and for all to heap on me humiliation if I don’t follow through. I’ve talked an impressive game, telling friends and neighbors of my plan soliciting, “oohs” and “ahhs,” and statements like, “That’s quite an ambitious plan you’ve got.”

It is ambitious. I’ll be hiking the North Downs Way that cuts across southern England from West to East, going through Canterbury and ending in Dover at the White Cliffs of Dover, overlooking the English Channel toward France. The pathway (as trails are called here) is roughly 132 miles from its beginning in Farnham to its end in Dover. It passes within a half mile of our house and from here to Dover is about 100 miles, or what would be an average of about 20 miles a day to make it in five days. I may give myself a sixth day to account for lingering in Canterbury and visiting the Cathedral.

Another name for North Downs Way is Pilgrim’s Way. The two are separate pathways but converge for most of the trip to Canterbury. The Pilgrim’s Way is the route many a devout Catholic annually took for making penance at the Cathedral. This pilgrimage was canonized in Canterbury Tales, by Geoffry Chaucer.

Walking, or “rambling” as it is called here is a serious hobby (there is a national rambling club with many local branches), so to say I’m going to make this trek immediately grabs attention and a fair amount of surprise that an American would be endeavoring something so bold that requires so much physical exertion. Even without having done it, just the fact that I’ve even considered it,  garners credibility. But make no mistake, I am certain if I don’t follow through I’d have accomplished exactly what many Brits would expect of an American.

Overlooking Dorking from the North Downs Way above Denbies Orchard, near the beginning of my Dorking to Dover trek.

Brits are people of considerable resolve, especially the older generation, many of whom I usually encounter on a hillside somewhere while rambling. Remember, these are the people who had bombs raining on their major industrialized cities during WWII. They emerged from rubble realizing they were not dead and believed if that is the best the Germans could offer then it will be virtually impossible to be defeated. They pulled themselves together and determined to carry on. Most Brits don’t grumble much so to milk the great Dorking to Dover ramble of as much pre-ramble drama as possible could potentially backfire.

So, last night with map spread on the table, highlighter in hand and Web browser open looking for places to bed down each night, I launched into the initial stages of actually planning my adventure. There is equipment to buy, meals to plan and boots to break in. Of course the accomplishment won’t be complete until there is a T-shirt: “Dorking to Dover 2010: the ramble of all rambles.”