DAY 204 - FRIBOURG TO BERNE: 19.7 MILES (39,400 STEPS)

12 November, 2011

19.7 miles (Total 2021.8 miles) 39,400 steps (Total: 4,352,201 steps)

‘But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.’
He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven by William Butler Yeats

Fribourg looks like a very interesting place; at times I wish I wasn’t walking to such deadlines so that I could pause and drink in some of the history of the places I am having the privilege of walking through. The weather remains cold, damp and foggy. In one of those clever bits of planning I managed again to book a hotel that was about as far off my required route as it is possible to get whilst still being designated ‘Fribourg’.

Anyway, the bonus was that I got the opportunity to walk through the impressive University campus—I always get a slight shiver of excitement when I am close to a university and think that if I could have traded a few of my ‘fat cells’ for a few extra ‘grey cells’ then I would have loved to have spent my days in academia teaching, researching and writing. Still that is idle speculation; we need to make a difference where we are, use what we have and love where we live, because we can’t impact where we are not, and use what we have not—and you don’t need a PhD in Quantum Physics to figure that one out.

I set off early the next day in the direction of Berne—the freezing fog hadn’t lifted much and I hadn’t slept much. I could really have done with an extra layer of clothes, but they were in my rucksack which was now waiting for me in Berne having made its way up from Montreux thanks to the ‘assistance’ of Tom Goodwin in Geneva and the ‘insistence’ of Xuelin in London. I was also running low on batteries on my computer and camera, but again the re-charging and power chords were in my rucksack. I decided to splash out 14 Swiss Francs on a USB charger which would keep my phone and my iTouch powered up until Berne and then use the last bit of juice in my laptop to download a couple of sermons by Paul Francis and Rob Parsons from my favourite church—Glenwood in Cardiff www.glenwoodchurch.org It was a great decision as my ‘spiritual’ batteries had been running rather low for a few days and also needed to be re-charged.

I walked out of the hotel not looking forward to the three mile trek back down into Fribourg town to reconnect with route 12 and to find a crossing point for the Sarine River and then I noticed that just outside the hotel there was a foot path, the Route de Grandfey which pointed to Dudingen and would actually save me about five miles. I set off, I confess, expecting to be disappointed, but it was worth the chance. I then came to a very high railway bridge and thought that was it, but I then noticed that built into the bridge was a foot and cycle path.  My spirits began to lift even if the fog didn’t. I felt quite moved by the sermons and it was as if in the midst of the fog God was thinking, “you know I think I’ll give Michael a bit of a break today; I think he has earned it…”

As I walked I got this picture of God as a judge on the ‘X factor’ and he was playing the role of Simon Cowell, who else—hope Simon isn’t offended. I was on the stage and had just given everything I had got in the performance of my lifetime. I finished with a flourish took my bow and a polite ripple of applause came, but then quickly subsided. Cheryl Cole, ‘Our Cheryl’, tried her best to be nice as possible to a fellow Geordie, but even she struggled to come up with any positives other than “I think you’ve done really well to get this far, like, pet”.  But all eyes were now on God/Simon as he swung around in his chair looking skyward, and after a pause, where he glanced at his notes, he began: “Let’s face it Michael you were a crap.  In fact, that was the worst performance I have ever seen on this show.  As a politician you are a karaoke singer at best and don’t even get me started on your performance in business, but you know I kind of like you” (few cheers, led by mum). He continued, “Listen I can’t put you through to the next round” (few jeers, led by mum)…God swung round on his chair again to face down the audience, well, mum, and then turned back…”I can’t put you through to the next round because this is a talent show and you haven’t got any (jeer, mum again), but you know what, you have something which will last longer than the moment of fame this show can offer, because you have dreams.  You get knocked down, you get back up, you don’t give up, you don’t get bitter or blame, you believe in other people more than you believe in yourself, you think of other people often more than you think of yourself, and there is a kind of courage about you that borders at times on the reckless: I can use all that, just not on this show, but here is my personal mobile number to keep in touch.”

The picture made me smile, but was also quite comforting. I think that just about sums me up, when Martin Luther King has a dream it is “that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed. That one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.” When I have a dream, it is of being compared to a karaoke singer and booted off the X Factor. Still I have got His personal number now and I might just give him a call this weekend to see if anything has come up.

I arrived into Berne at 5:00PM and managed to pop into ‘Bigoudi Coiffure’ on Zwyssigstrause and got a good old short back and sides so I could look smart for church on Remembrance Sunday. They were very kind and interested in my walk. They did a great job with ever decreasing available material and I received a free cup of coffee with the bill—40 Swiss Francs or about £25—I must of looked a bit surprised, being more used to £6.50 cuts at the student barbers on Saddler Street in Durham and so they quickly produced a “10% Off” voucher for my next visit. If anyone if is planning to be in Berne and wants a haircut then let me know and I am sure we can agree a reasonable price for the voucher, though payment will be required in Swiss Francs.

I arrived into the centre of Berne, next to the Bubenberg Platz at 6PM to the most amazing sound of church bells ringing out across the city. The city is absolutely beautiful and a buzz with activity. My hotel was plumb in the centre, right next door to a Starbucks. I was glad that I was going to be able to stay here for a few days. It was a wonderful end to a good day. I slept well.

DAY 203 - REFLECTIONS ON THE FIRST 2,000 MILES

11 November, 2011

Bulle to Fribourg

17.4 miles (Total 2004.1 miles) 34,800 steps (Total: 4,312,801 steps)

Today was a significant day because of numbers:

It was of course 11/11/11 and wearing my red poppy I paused at St Suplice just outside of Gruyere to remember the sacrifice of those lost their lives in service of their country—some might question whether there is any contradiction between wearing a poppy, supporting in doing so the British Legion and remembering those who gave their lives in service of our country, and undertaking a 3000 miles walk for peace. I don’t see any. I am a patriot and proud of my country. No soldier in recent history has taken the decision to go to war. They serve with honour and courage the decisions of the nation expressed through our elected politicians.

I have had, and still have, some serious reservations over the decisions taken to intervene militarily around the world by politicians, but I can’t have anything other than respect for the sense of duty and sacrifice that our armed forces display in carrying out the wishes of their political masters.  I also believe that the most fitting way to honour the memory of the millions who gave their lives in service of their country, is to devote every ounce of our energy to ensuring that in future other courageous service men and women do not have to do the same.  That requires not a change of thinking amongst the military, but a paradigm shift in the courage, imagination and wisdom of our politicians.

The second number that was significant on this day was ‘2000.’ It was the point just north of Bois de la Glane that I completed my 2000^th mile on the walk. When I began the walk I had aimed to do an average of 10 miles a day so it was gratifying to come in at 2000 miles on Day 203. A couple of kilometres further I paused to reflect on this other milestone over a cup of coffee. Milestones are important to me on the walk.  I can’t fully explain why one step should be any more significant than another, but it is because it marks progress towards as goal. As I reflected on the last 1000 miles, I recalled all that had happened since I crossed the first 1000 mile barrier at Konjic, Bosnia and Herzegovina at the end of July.  I won’t rehearse it all again here, but there were so many encounters with wonderful and inspiring individuals, experiences of the magnificent beauty of nature and the discovery of the immense inner human resources available to pull us through the most challenging of times, but then I posed another question to myself.  What had actually been achieved on the Olympic truce during the last 1000 miles, for that was the sole purpose of the walk?

Here the answer I confess was less uplifting.  Sure everyone I had met was very interested in the truce and very nice about the walk, but I recalled that in April I had written on my home page of the web-site before setting off from London these words:

“In October 2011 all 193 member states of the United Nations General Assembly will gather in New York to sign a Resolution declaring their commitment to observe to “pursue initiatives for peace and reconciliation in the spirit of the Ancient Games”—in the past everyone has signed it but no one has  ever implemented it. We think that is a missed opportunity.  We want to see the Resolution brought into reality.”

Sure enough on October 17, 2011 the UN Resolution declaring the Olympic truce was adopted unanimously by all 193 member states of the UN, but at the time of writing I am still not aware of a single confirmed initiative been taken by any one of the 193 governments who put their name to the resolution. As a result the resolution is still a very long way from being brought into reality.

This may seem an over-pessimistic assessment for I know of at least seven countries who are actively considering options for implementing the truce including my own, but ‘considering’ is not ‘confirming’. I must confess that this dilatory approach to a resolution calling for truce and the promotion of peace compared to the sense of urgency with which the international community seem to be able to muster unlimited resources behind resolutions calling for military intervention remains as perplexing for me now, as the day I decided to embark upon this walk.

I seek to console myself with the fact that there have been some amazing opportunities to talk to people about the truce for the first time, especially young people in Sarajevo, Ljubljana and Geneva, but no consolation can seem to assuage the feeling of disappointment that despite fine words and promises, the truce is no nearer being implemented now than at any time in the past.

As I am half tempted to switch from macchiato coffee to Merlot wine, I reflect further that the battle may not have yet been won, but neither has it been lost. There are still eight months before the resolution is due to take effect and there is still another 1000 miles to go on the walk. This optimistic line begins to lift my spirits again and I quickly thought of another couple of dozen celebrities, statesmen and journalists who I could email again that night in the hope of building some popular momentum behind the truce to give substance to the promises of the politicians. I know no-one has ever responded in the past….

….actually that is not true, I have a conversation with Monique Coleman tomorrow who is an American actress best known for her starring role in High School Musical. I am very excited about her interest in the truce as I have been told often enough that as fifty year old Tory peer I am just “too boring” to interest any media in the truce other than perhaps The Church Times in a slow news week—and there ain’t been many of them recently.

CAVEAT: I need to insert a caveat here—I haven’t been sleeping well, sometimes not at all over the past two weeks on account of my shoulder. The freezing damp weather around Berne is not helping either. The painkillers seemed to have lost their affect and I am typing this missive with one hand.

So let me finish on a high note: Later that evening I found that another event had occurred 4000 miles away in Texas that was of profound significance to us as a family. At 11 minutes past 11 on the 11^th day of the 11^thmonth of the 11^th year our eldest son Matt proposed to his long term partner Heather in San Angelo. It was wonderful news—I dashed out in search of a glass of Champagne to celebrate, but when I found it was £11.50 a glass I opted for a Diet Coke and on that day it tasted like a glass of the finest Dom Perignon.

DAY 202 - MONTREUX TO BULLE: 19.4 MILES (38,800 STEPS)

10 November, 2011

19.4 miles (Total 1986.7 miles) 38,800 steps (Total: 4,278,001 steps)

On the map it looked as if the route to Bulle via Blonday and Chatel St Denis skirted around the base of the mountains that rise steeply behind Montreux—I was wrong. My normal walking pace is 5km per hour—if I stride out then I can get this up to 6km per hour, but faced with a steep climb this can slow to 3.5—4km per hour. Why is this important? Well as I am for the most part walking along busy roads, I try to avoid is at all possible walking in the dark. That is a challenge as the number of daylight hours is closing in during winter. So, I knew that when I arrived in Blonay, about 10 km up from Montreux and I was three hours into the daylight, I was going to be in trouble at the end of the day. So it was….

As I walked out of Semsales a freezing fog descended on a twisting road, blocking out what little light was remaining for the day. I reached for my torch, which was okay, but the battery was very weak—the last time I had replaced the batteries was in Croatia—I always carry a spare set in my rucksack, but that was back in Montreux.  Being the incurable optimist that I am, I imagined that the fog would lift once I emerged from the next dip in the road and there would be a petrol station which sold AAA batteries. No such luck. I walked to Vaulruz and just as I was emerging the torch went altogether and no amount of shaking was going to bring it back to life. Fortunately I had a few kilometres of footpath through the town before needing to go back onto the road in pitch black and fog. The fog was so thick that I could hardly see the oncoming car headlights until they were about ten metres away—I would then skip quickly onto the grass.

Strangely enough my greatest fear was not that I would get hit by a car, but that I would slip down the grass ditch at the side of the road and hit my fractured shoulder again. Fear keeps you on your toes and there is much that is much to be said for it.  I was also worried that I was missing signposts to Bulle in the fog, but fortunately had my Blackberry on GPRS so I could locate myself, well within 1.6km, which was as good enough.

I then came into a small town called Vuadens and saw a very welcome sight—a neon ‘Co-op’ sign!  And they had AAA batteries—it is always slightly irritating in these ‘austerity times’ when your torch only requires three batteries and you need to buy four, but I wasn’t complaining—too much. It was now 7:30pm and it was back onto the country roads again, but with my powerful torch which served both as a warning to oncoming traffic and a guide to avoid me slipping down a ditch or tripping on a rock.

I arrived into Bulle at around 8:30pm—almost 12 hours after I had left Montreux and imagined that in the fog I would be able to pick out the Hotel Ibis neon sign where I was booked to stay—no such luck. I asked directions and followed them as far as my basic French would allow me to do so with confidence, but was still wandering around the streets of Bulle at 9:00pm, very wet and very tired. I then had a bit of luck as I went into a bar to seek directions; there was a lady, Florence Cuennet, who spoke excellent English and engaged the patrons in a deep debate about how to reach Hotel Ibis. What transpired was that unfortunately I was on the wrong side of the motorway—if I had a car then I could be there in a few minutes through a tunnel, but on foot I would need to retrace my steps and walk for about another hour.

A few of the women clearly felt a maternal side coming out towards me as I stood there soaking wet, with an arm in a sling and they urged me to take a taxi through the tunnel. I explained the nature of my walk and why I needed to walk—they were impressed by the walk, but deeply unimpressed with my desire to go back out to walk another hour to travel a couple of kilometres. Before I knew it Danielle Roulin was taking matters into their own hands and dialling a taxi and pouring me a complimentary glass of wine (pic). I began to soften in my pious and puritanical approach to the rules of the walk and enjoyed a few minutes conversation before the taxi arrived and took me the short distance to the hotel; and as I did, I gave thanks for getting through another tricky day.