Pages of the sea + chips.

Beverly,, Yorkshire and here it was happening to me again.

"Tanya: what on earth have I done this time eh?" I said while Flashing blue lights and screaming sirens followed us as we wended our way to a quiet little parking spot where the 'River Hull' meets the 'Beverly Beck' canal. In total five large shiny red fire engines squeezed into the same small space as ourselves. Brown hi viz clad firemen assured me I was not in the way as they ran past and out toward the river meadows to investigate reports of 'a horse in the canal'. Reportedly nothing was found and, as one young fireman put it:

"probably swam further down, found a sand bank and is now back wi is mates munchin grass."

Peace resumed and a quiet night was had before an exploratory trip into town the next day to view the famous 13th century Minster. 'No dogs allowed'. Well that cut that adventure down to size. The town centre proved friendly though and lightened my wallet some as we headed back to Rap3 carrying new jacket, trews and top.

I was slowly working my way south from Scotland and finally, after several failed attempts in previous years, tackling the English East Coast. Redcar, Staithes, Whitby, Fylingdale and Scarborough. All delightful and 'must visit again' destinations. I had to rest up in Redcar's large seafront car park for a few nights as I coped with a cold/flu type virus which this time specialised in efficient mass production of nasal effluent! Never mind, the excellent award winning chippy over the road gave me the comfort food blanket I needed for ultimate survival. I was also able to attend the 100year 1st World war anniversary 'Pages of the sea' event on Redcar's beautiful beach.
Walking among the hundreds of sand silhouette 'unknown' soldiers was particularly poignant plus, when I raised my eyes there in the distance was the stark and sharp outline of the huge, now dead, still & deathly, former British Steel Works.

"We all used to work there, my whole family and me." said the lady next to me as we both carefully agitated the smooth tidal sand to create our own personal 'unknown soldier'. The tide returned and restored smooth order to the memory honoured beach later in the day.

In contrast the stark darkening silhouetted steel works stayed. Such memories as it evoked still fresh, painful and not yet ready to be poppy'd over or 'tidal smoothed'.

A moving day articulated with accurate, precise and moving poetic excellence by Poet Laureate Carol Ann Duffy with her 'Pages of the sea'.

If you've not read it, please do.

Golf ball & Durham

"Ouch! What the hell was that" I said to Tanya as I gingerly rubbed the back of my leg. Something had dealt it a bruising blow and stopped me in my tracks. Tanya and I were enjoying a pre-lunch stroll along the bank of the river Tyne in a pleasant country park on the edge of Hexham. I looked around me and quickly figured out that for the first time in my seventy years of stumbling around this planet I had been struck by a meteorite. Well; as good as. I mean there can't be all that much difference between a golf ball travelling at high velocity and my, so say, fast travelling celestial object. The golf ball, now without its velocity, guiltily rested among the autumn leaves at my feet. The owner was spotted heading my way from the adjacent golf course which was alongside the, 'not effective this time' protective line of trees.
I was not badly hurt, just surprised. A pleasant conversation ensued with a very apologetic golfer who admitted it was also a first for him too, hitting somebody with his golf ball.
Tanya and I walked on and back to Rap3 for some lunch before moving onto Durham and, hopefully, weather permitting, a day or two of exploring and viewing Cathederal etc.

We had left East Kilbride behind a couple of days ago after a great visit & time spent with family and Grandchildren Mia, Aidan, Jenna and Rebecca. My; don't They grow. Always the decision to move on is a difficult one. Restlessness, itchy feet, the urge to move. At 70yrs of age I crazily still get all of those feelings and so it was  'Hawick' (pron - Hoick) in the Scottish Borders that became our first stop. Mainly because it is a motorhome friendly town with some lovely walks in the adjacent parkland and woods. The night was a very wet and windy one and despite being warm and cosy in Rap3 I was unexpectedly and suddenly brought down mentally. The trigger was simply that for some reason my brand new all singing, all dancing smart phone had lost all my personalisations of faithful Mrs Sat Nav. Not so smart after all! You would think I should be used to such things by now and mostly I am. However: I have started to notice 'differences' in my 'ability to cope' with bouts of mental lowness post my Oesophagael surgery earlier this year. So far they do not qualify as severe or serious but they are definitely 'different' . Not helping either was the onset of a sore throat which, if previous experience is anything to go by, will develop into a week of runny nose cold/flu.

So: the remedy please Oh master?

Slow down, take extra care of myself and observe/catch those mischievous, devious and numerous gremlins of the mind early on before they command any semblance of serious symbiotic power.

We did precisely that yesterday by using healthy action at 'Keilder Water'. Out of its comfy hidey-hole within Rap3 came bike plus green Tanya carrying bucket and off we went on the 26mile circumnavigation of the huge man made Northumbrian reservoir cum tourist attraction. OK; so we did not start till half past two in the afternoon which meant there was no way of completing the circuit before darkness. No matter; a respectable 11 miles of 'Tanya E-bike walk expodition' lifted mind, spirit and body gaining also a respectable 'gremlin neutrality'. Another thumbs up too to my Freego folding E Bike. It really has put the pleasure back into our cycling 'expoditions'.
........
Durham was OK. I found good wild camping in a quiet local country park. Quiet that is except it was Bonfire night and the local youngsters turned up with their fireworks, risk taking and showing off in front of the girls. I had to ask them to move their antics a little further away from Rap3 and Tanya at one point but they were a good lot and all wanted a cuddle with Tanya, who, these days, through I presume deafness, is pretty unfazed by fireworks. The black plastic bag came out next morning as I cleaned up after them. A small price to pay for a good evenings entertainment.

The Cathederal was a bit of a let down though. No dispute over it being magnificent and oozing history etc etc. But, unlike Salisbury, Wells and Lincoln. Durham does not allow dogs in. Not even if they are small and cuddly and being carried. Disappointing but hey ho the city centre was nice and the Riverside walks were much more to Tanya's liking anyway.
I enjoyed them too adorned as they were with autumnal russet and gold over still water on a cloudy but lightish day. As I walked with Tanya, pushing our bike, I reflected on our recent visit to Cashel forest on the East Bank of Loch Lomond where Kate's ashes lie. I remembered being up there a year ago and reflecting on the fact it could potentially be my last 'living' visit. My cancer journey was all in front of me back then. The Rowan tree we had planted among the mossy grasses and bilberry bushes seemed to be saying the same thing. It looked decidedly unhealthy and I feared it would not survive the winter. I was right too. My visit this year found a forlorn looking broken stalk poking out above the thick Reed like grass. I peered closer and then gasped. There, buried deep within the protective shelter of those grasses was a very healthy and vigorous leaf adorned new shoot.

"Well what do you know eh Kate. I've returned this year with surprisingly good health after being helped by the deep, protective and curative grasses of family and medical professionals and here I am being welcomed by your tree, also spouting new life from deep within protective grasses".

Nature's own Spiritual synchronisation at its best is what I reckon.

Friends from Spain & Lincoln

Picture it in your mind. Saturday afternoon with a mega sale going on at Ikea Nottingham on virtually all flat packed furniture. I have also been reliably informed Nottingham Ikea parking is seriously limited now the rest of the surrounding large retail shopping complex is fully up and running.

Enter two large Rapido motorhomes. They turn off the access roundabout into this Ikea retail madhouse to find themselves trapped with no way out. All they can do is struggle along with the rest of the very slow stop start flow and try not to get caught up in the increasing irritation as dozens of cars and families trying to park up to access Ikea. I was driver of number one Rapido Motorhome and my heart sank as I swung off that roundabout, hit the solid jam of traffic, and realised there was no escape.

Lenny and Win, my good friends from Spain were in the 'just purchased' second Rapido. A lovely motorhome by the way of which they were delighted but already stressed out by a long day of purchase which had involved a lengthy phone grilling from fraud prevention as Win attempted to transfer the agreed purchase price over. All that was now behind us. Ahead lay this Ikea nightmare which was meant to be a quick visit for them to pick up bedding for their motorhome as it was impractical for them to have brought it with them on their flight from Spain.

We were never going to be able to park two seven metre motorhomes in the tight car spaces. Especially as cars were littered everywhere where someone thought a car was vacating a space. Win climbed out and headed into the equal chaos inside Ikea to grab some bedding. Meanwhile Lenny and I gingerly edged our way endlessly around the car park moving on another few feet every time we blocked someone in. We were not too popular but we had no choice. Finally Win plus bedding were re installed in Rapido number two. We slowly and carefully eased our way out and away. A huge sigh of relief, a congratulation on having survived the day with two undamaged motorhomes, and a lovely meal cooked by Win in the new 'pre-loved' Motorhome eased all our woes. Our eventful day finally ended as we snuggled down for the night safe and sound at the CCClub 'Teversall' camp site just North of Nottingham. Tanya, bless her was just so pleased when we first arrived and she finally got her walk, a good doggy sniff walk too, at the 'Silverhill'. Country Park just across the road from the campsite.

After the 'Ikea' trauma we treated ourselves to a couple of nights at the campsite before parting company as L & W set off back to Spain & their new 'Motorhoming' life. I meanwhile have resumed my Northward journey with a slight detour Eastwards to Lincoln to visit the Cathedral.

Now is it me or are these 'happenings' travelling the same journey as yours truly? I arrive in Lincoln and duly park in a quiet leafy backroad. I lunch, then in the warm autumn sunshine assemble folding E-bike, pop Tanya into her green 'taxi bucket' and off we set for the town centre. My attention is immediately grabbed by solid car jams, screaming police sirens and multiple blue flashing lights everywhere. As I get closer to the centre the area becomes increasingly deserted and I am finally shouted at and flagged down by the boys/girls in blue.

"Y'cant go that way.... Ooh... lovely dog y'gotta there. It's an incident mate, a suspicious package in the bus station!"

I did, via a circuitous route, eventually find my way to the Cathedral atop its steep hill (Thank you E-bike) to find it only half open as a University Matriculation service was in full swing. Nevertheless it was an enjoyable visit & the city's role in the Cromwellian civil war made for fascinating reading.

A bit more history for you here. The word 'Magna' was added to the famous Carter (charter) after bad boy King John had died. Magna, which means 'great' differentiated it from the later 'Forest Charter' which, in similar vein to the Magna Carter came about to address the greed of the King and his Barons who were forever, and at will, expanding the 'Kings Forest' and in the process making life hell for any citizen within the boundaries. I don't know my history all that well and I've never done any real research but I'll bet the name 'Woodward' (Wood or Forest warden) has strong association with this period in history and in particular these 'boundaries' be they pre or post 'Forest Charter'

And the Cancer? Well all I can say is that I am so lucky/fortunate to be out here once again on the road in my Motorhome. My last Oncology appointment did throw up a minor problem however; and I had to once again endure a few weeks of anxiety and worry before ultrasound scans confirmed, as my Oncologist put it;

'Good, a most satisfactory scan result. Go and get on with your life".

It was just unfortunate how it  coincided with our lovely family holiday in Devon. The anxiety and worry surprised me in the way it affected me. It caught me off my guard and in turn I'm sure it affected those around me too. The family week was good though & I can thoroughly recommend 'River Cottage' Homity pies.... Yummy.

Coming home + other

Coming home, or, at peace with myself, was how I felt this morning as I walked with Tanya among the green and lush fields on the banks of the River Barrow, New Ross just west of Wexford, Ireland. Last night Mrs Sat Nav, guided Rapido3 plus incumbents to a remembered and 'stored as favorites' wild camping spot here on this tiny road next to an old and abandoned farmhouse. The loudest sound heard is gentle munching of cows chewing the cud plus chirping of swallows in delighted insect catching erratic flight.

This was a feeling of wellbeing not experienced for some time as this last year of my life has had its share of what Pema Khandro Rinpoche calls 'dukkha' , or pervasive unsatisfactoriness. As I slowly and leisurely walked with Tanya such feelings evaporated as the green ferns along the bottom of the hedgerow waved gently in the morning breeze and wafted all 'dukkha' aside.

 'Chang chub sem', in Tibet is translated as; "mind of enlightenment held by an awakened mind warrior.”  This morning felt as though my “awakened mind warrior.” had returned after a long absence of holding tightly onto the 'at peace' or, 'at home' part of my mind while other active, cancer fighting mind and body tasks demanded priority. 

Such mind and body priorities are still required as I am not completely there yet. How beautiful though, to have such a friend / warrior return to assist and support me on my ongoing recovery journey. Maybe I'm now 'ready enough'. To explain that I'll take licence and quote again from 'Pema Khandro Rinpoche' (Dec 2017)

'The message of Yeshe Tsogya's extreme circumstances is this: when enlightened intent is relentless and unwavering, then, the profound basis of mind reveals itself to us in all its radiant glory; even though we are sometimes good self, sometimes bad self, and at still other times confused and suffering with our own problems".

You’re Ready Enough.
Believe it.
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A couple of days on now and such a pleasant experience / contemplation has reinforced my onward, more normal journey.

Wales & a visit to my Stepdaughter & family in their beautiful family home which is slowly and surely emerging from the dark, damp, and neglected old pub they bravely purchased and are now restoring. My visit was enhanced as my step son and his daughter also visited but also by this year's warm dry weather, not something Tally, Carmarthenshire, is renowned for.

Onward via Ferry to Ireland and yesterday's camping stop at 'Crosshaven Fort' overlooking Cork's magnificent natural deep water harbour. Yesterday was also my first E bike expodition with Tanya to explore Cork City. I have to say it all worked well. We used railway /cycle paths almost to Cork City centre and back again. Along the way I spotted last nights very pleasant camping spot by the river, the new sports stadium, and a lovely park where on our walk this morning we were entertained by a lively Otter.
.............
"Can't camp here tonight" intoned the Killearney Country Park ranger as he informed me I was now banished from one of my favorite overnight spots. He said there was a new sign saying 'no overnight camping' and; "look there's the post hole where it should be".
I never question such actions, especially when I realise said Ranger suspects me of nicking his new sign. I just agree and move on. I do not want to be anywhere where I'm seen as a problem.
As very often is the case come such rare moving on incidents, an alternative spot had been noted earlier in the day. I call it providence; a problem solved before a problem exists. Twenty minutes later we were snug in our little forest meadow out of sight from everyone.
..........
CRUNCH .... BANG!! Right outside 'Beach Box' the holiday shop and launderette my son and wife run in Castlegregory, County Kerry. I'd only arrived five minutes earlier to meet n greet them but then found myself directing /controlling the traffic as the Italian tourists hire car was extricated from its embedded position in the side of my sons car. Half an hour of mayhem ensued on the narrow but busy road before some normality resumed plus two very disgruntled people glued to mobile phones connected firmly to hire car and insurance companies. My sons car suffered surprisingly little damage whereas poor Italian tourist plus wife/partner had to bus it back to their lodgings in Tralee. I don't think they were too happy with their car hire company.

After all the excitement I am now settled in at my sons home and looking forward to helping out  where I can over the next few weeks of busy holiday trade. I have a suspicion my role could well involve spending lots of time looking after one lively five year old grandson Kaden. A real test for my post surgery recovery and recuperation eh!

Wish me luck....

The Recovery journey

Twelve weeks on from major cancer surgery and I seem to be doing OK. Fingers crossed eh. I am of course talking of the physical. The body. My body. A system now compromised, a lot lighter and lacking in the stamina I enjoyed before my affray with Oesophagael cancer. The system, albeit compromised, is working though and still supporting an awakening mind. I mean, what use is a body if it is not to support a forever developing and awakening mind. Which conveniantly brings me to the questionable psychological nature of my recovery.

"I would not recommend making any major decisions until you are six months post surgery".

This was the good advice I received from my surgeon at our last meeting where he also informed me the Biopsy results on all bits removed from me were good enough for him to announce me as surgically 'cancer free'.

Receiving this news is huge. It is empowering, overwhelming and totally, from my psychological point of view, unexpected and uncontrollable.
I am impulsive by nature and being given another chance at life my impulsive nature soon, with purpose and determination, overruled any good advice from skilled surgeons. I rapidly emptied out my bank balance and welcomed motorhome 'Rapido3' into my life. She is a beauty, a 2015 model with all the bells and whistles I require and she is in pristine condition.

Once again I question my actions in regards to sanity but the decision making was based on good research and good understanding  of my impulsive questionable mental ability. What was going on in my mind was every time I thought seriously about changing my lifestyle and staying in one place my heart sank into a sort of grayish blackness.

"I really would like another few years of my travelling lifestyle so sod it, I've been given another chance at life and I aint about to go and waste it. Let's just go for it"

And I have!
..........

This is my 2nd night out and 'Rapido3', although slightly smaller is coping well. During this 'shakedown' stage I have chosen storage locations for all my stuff on a bit of a; 'well it fits there so that'll have to do' basis. Slowly stuff gets moved around and eventually some sort of order emerges from the muddle. Comfy bed though.

I'm at one of my favorite places tonight. A peaceful and quiet old orchard at the back of one of my previous customers farm. This time my visit has been rocked as my good farmer friends wife has been diagnosed with terminal leukemia.
This on top of another good friend in Scotland who is as we speak in the final grip of a relentless and all consuming cancer.
As an 'at present cancer survivor' this double whammy does not so much bowl me over as make me sad, reflective and spiritually puzzled as to why. Not only why is cancer so prevalent but also why am I a survivor? The thoughts go deep and are existentially challenging. At the end of the day though all I can do is be there with empathic listening.
The 'Tibetan book of living and dying' states it clearly.
"Never underestimate the benefit to others of concentrated listening even if only for a few minutes".

Time to take Tanya for her evening walk and then to clamber into that comfy bed. Life goes on.

Post Oesophagetonomy

Guess I knew it had to happen and sure enough here comes the pain.
Last Friday was when I had my Oesophagetonomy operation. Since then I have enjoyed the all encompassing luxury of an Epidural managing my pain.

"On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being the worst pain possible what is your pain level sir?"

'Zero' I would blithely reply.

I did not get away with it Scot free though. One ingredient of the Epidural medication mix supported an Allergy I have, of which I was not previously aware, to many of the wound dressings used. This, plus fact my epidural delivery tube loved 'beeping' no matter how I tried to lie down gave rise to some sleepless nights as my skin went on red chilli flavoured allergic fire.

So this mornings removal of Epidural pain relief support was something special. The large dressing sticking all the paraphernalia in place in the middle of my itching back was first removed. Bliss number one. Then lovely nurse massaged a soothing balm into my back. Bliss number two. Finally, due to Epidural being partly a needle in the spine, I was told to lie still, on my back for one hour, within the comforting coolness of the healing balm. Bliss, big bliss number three. In fact big heavenly bliss.

So you see I was having a really good day up to this point. The good time continued too as my sister and hubby called in to see me and I accompanied them on a walk down the hospital corridor dressed in my latest hospital gown fashionably dress accessorised with accompanying five wheel rolling stainless steel drip supporting dangling tubes which protruded from underneath my gown and they were connected to.... mmm! .... another days story maybe?

Oh! I forgot; special for this season too, my nose drain elegantly supported by good old fashioned white surgical gaffer tape. Those coloured nose support tapes are just soooo last year! As I, and my trusty Physio helper returned to the ward I felt the first twinge of real pain in the muscles around my middle which, my trusty surgeon informs me, have taken a real bashing.

Good old NHS though. The new, Morphine pain relief regime was promptly explained to me. You don't even have to go out on the street to buy it down here in Bournemouth. So here's me at seven thirty at night enjoying my fourth 'cup o tea' of the day and reasonably comfortable but now acutely aware of the extent and number of 'surgical slicings' I, or rather, my body have been exposed to.  Coughing, after, I am informed, having my right lung totally collapsed is a new and, let's just say 'different' experience.

Ho Hum and on we go.

A wondering dilemma

My Oncologist spelt it out clearly. He was professional, understanding and, I felt, compassionate toward my dilemma. His phone call to me was in response to my requesting a self funded further CT scan before my major Oesophagael surgery in a few weeks time.

Without medical knowledge I figured it as the only way I was going to know if my cancer tumours had reduced enough for me to make the decision surgery or no surgery. My Oncologist pointed out the danger, of another dose of ingested radiation so soon after my last scan, plus, he stated quite clearly a scan so soon would show little difference thereby leaving me with the same quandary as before alongside the addition of a sizeable credit card bill to boot.  Persuasive evidence.

He was skillfully accurate as he firmly said; 'I have to make my mind up now on the evidence and facts already available' . Hmmmm!

Now; I have never doubted the skill and professionalism of the NHS during my Oesophagal cancer journey. The fact they are offering me a 'curative' option is, in this day and age of cancer complexity and commonality, nothing short of a miracle. My 'curative' NHS surgical option also has a weight of solid evidence available via Internets multiple sources and through personal attendance of survivor groups. A clear, straight forward and powerful lobby.

The downside of this major surgery is merely a compromised body and lifestyle should I be fortunate enough to become a survivor.

So the dilemma, I face is, and I freely admit to it, of my own making. But never the less it is a dilemma that has caused me (and those close to me... Nuff said!) mental lowness, anxiety but most of all frustration.

Being on the edge of huge medical breakthroughs while having on offer 'Clinical Excellence' based on historical evidence is a place cleverly designed to foster such Frustration. You, ie the medical profession, cannot move fast. The mobile phone market, on the other hand, can move fast. Their research is ongoing and live and, as we all know, causes app failure and continuing updating. But it doesn't kill people. That's why the medical world  moves slower and with caution. Clinical Excellence based on historical evidence is there as an NHS discipline because it kills as few of us as possible.

For me, there is no doubt the rise of Genetics, Epigenetics and Gut Biometric science is going to revolutionise medical science and practise over the next decade or so. At present though, and in reference to cancer, such choices come under the heading of 'Alternative'. Exploring and searching for a 'Curative' option down such 'Alternative' pathways has taken me to a place familiar and recognised from my life history. A place where I am pretty good and do on the whole 'try my very best' with usually some success. I do not however; go to a place where total obsession, dedication and precise planning are prerequisite requirements. It just aint me.

What this 'Alternative' research and ongoing practice has given me is greatly increased knowledge and, I believe, a physical body in a much improved cancer fighting/surviving state. What it has not given me is enough solid evidence to enable me to be courageous enough, or to make clear enough judgement, enabling me to say no to the offered curative option of major surgery.

I am sad but not dismayed or particularly surprised by this conclusion. What I am faced with, as always, is the difficulty in now moving forward with this 'Curative' surgical option while at the same time carrying with me the frustration of never quite knowing whether my 'Alternative' had done enough in conjunction with my chemotherapy, and strict continuation of 'Alternative', to enable my rejuvenated physical systems to deal effectively with the cancer residue.

I will always be left wondering.

El Chorro

This post dated 26/01/2015 is one of my favourites & I mistakenly deleted it. This is it now reinstated from back up. Unfortunately 'Blogger' does not allow me to replace in sequence.
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Quote from the 'Rough Guide' for Spain;

'Fifty kilometres NW of Malaga Garganta del Chorro (gorge of ... ) is an amazing place. An immense five-kilometre long cleft in a vast limestone massif, which has become Andalucia's major centre for rock climbers.'

Well here I am. Perched in a prime spot right above 'El Chorro' the village, complete with train station, and looking straight down the first part of the gorge. I tell you it is worth having to park next to the local bin compound for such a view while tucking into a, made it all myself n it's one of my better ones, chicken curry.

The place, as stated, is a rock climbers, mountain bikers and walkers heaven. Not a hundred metres down the narrow track are two vans full of young Brits here for the climbing. The place is not what you would call Mediterranian warm but then it is January and there is snow on the higher peaks. All OK by me. I'm snug as a bug in Sadie.

Last night I stayed near the Buddhist Stupa at 'Benalmadena Pueblo'. A favourite place of mine where I have a quiet and safe wildcamp spot overlooking the coastline all the way up to Malaga. There is a 'teaching' at the Stupa this coming Sunday which I will attend. So; three days to explore the area before I need to return for the 'teaching'. Healthwise I am not feeling too bad either. Its the Onions, Garlic and Avocado I reckon. (they were all in the curry!) Weather forcast is looking good and 'on the improve' for the next few days therefore a good chance to explore the high hilly Andalucian hinterland.

I set off not bothering with Mrs Sat nav as I was only going to nip back down the N340 coastal road to Fuengirola to a Carrfour supermarket.

Mistake Steve. Big mistake.

Took the wrong turn off did'nt I.

"S'funny Tanya; how come we've ended up down Fuengirola's main, and bloody busy, drag. Ho Hum; concentrate now, Aha! thought so, she's now going to try n reverse into that spot which she aint gonna do cos a large swanky Jag like that aint gonna fit where a battered Ford Fiesta has just pulled out. No good you'se lot behind beepin yer horn at me. We all gotta wait till she of smart Jag importance cottons on. Ahhh; There she goes. She figured it out at last and here we go, all moving again. Hey! Will you look at that Tanya a big parking lot with loadsa motorhomes. Winker on, hang a right and we're in".

We were too. A handy spot to remember. Water available, two minute walk to the beach plus a supermarket just across the road. I thought I would stay the night but after doing my shopping and taking on water I just left. No messin. Turned the key, swung her round and just left.
I wanted the hills not a busy Costa del Sol holiday resort motorhome park.

This time Mrs Sat nav was given full employment in a managerial role. She beautifully guided via smaller roads (read narrow bendy and bumpy) to this lovely spot overlooking 'El Chorro'.
- - - -
This area is stunning but decidely Brit land. On my sightseeing trip around the area today I have met: Glasgow couple gathering up all their gear for a days climbing in the sunshine: X pat Dad on a trip with his children to where his wife's, their Mum's, ashes are scattered: Older English lady now living in France but staying locally to paint: "The light here is so stunning my dear": Retired Irish couple from Dublin up from their apartment in Estepona to view the ruins of 'Bombasta'.

These ruins were further down the hill and were the eigth/ninth century stronghold of a local rebel Muslim turned Christian Bully boy if you like. Todays world is unfortunately still very much affected by similar unsavoury characters. Don't agree with the rules so lets do some killing, raping, plundering, land grabbing and enslaving to scare the shite out of everyone so as we can have it all.

Irish lady was upset as she could not find these ruins. I've found even earlier ruins though. By accident. I happened to be parked for the night right by them. They are a series of sheltered Southerly facing wind and rain carved shallow caves occupied from prehistoric time. I noticed the worn steps carved into the rock leading to some of them.

I enjoyed a wonderful meditation in one of these deep overhangs on a precipitously steep slope. Slipping and falling would have been curtains for sure, but you could see for miles. They were indeed sheltered from the cold wind but caught the considerable warmth of a January afternoon sun. I could see and strongly feel why our earliest ancestors would choose such an attractive spot to settle in.

The ruins still attract too. The local herd of bell ringing sheep seen far below on the opposite side of the valley have left clearly visible hoof marks and wooly body imprints evidencing their regular and recent visits.

I've ended up staying two days/nights in this quiet and peaceful spot. Saturday, that's today, has been busier but most of the sightseeing traffic gaze curiously at Sadie as they pass us by on their way to the Mirador (viewpoint) half a kilometre further on.

Earlier today I grabbed binoculars and we took a short walk to the other side of this mountain top resevoir to watch the Griffin Vultures soaring in the updfafts of the huge gorge. Mesmerising and spectacular. Tanya was fine as these birds are on the lookout for dead carrion.

One of their own was unfortunately and decidedly dead just under a tall aerial tower adorning the peak. So sad to see this recently beautiful and giant master of the air deceased. I chanted a wee mantra and restored soaring wings to his/her spirit. I swear the others knew as eight to ten of them stacked and soared in circles above my head. I could hear them chattering away as I quietly stood there. I moved on and so did they. Unexplainable and enriching.

OPA plus a Wiltshire Pasty.

"Two months ago" I exclaimed.

"yes" he replied. "Two months and four days". 

Sat to my left, a gentleman the same age as myself who, two months before had undergone a major surgical procedure called an 'osophagetonomy'. To my right a fifty four year old guy who had gone thru the same op seven months previous.

This was my first 'Oesophagal (cancer) Patients Association' meeting with about seventy others who had either gone thru the same major surgery or who were spouses/family.

I could not believe these two guys were here, stood up on their own hind legs, supping tea and eating cake so soon after such major surgery . My anxieties, fears and worries about this major surgery, of which I was about to commit, were being laid to rest. Not only by the warmth and openness of these survivors but also by the welcome I received from the Portsmouth Queen Alexandria hospitals Oncology team.

My operation will be at a different Hospital but I was encouraged and warmed (almost to tears I may add) by the skill, openness and acceptance from the QA Consultant surgeon who answered my questions honestly, warmly and with not a shred of any 'us and them' mentality.

I felt a sense of relief and a surge of confidence as I talked it over with my son during the drive back. Even later the Buddhist principle of 'Four abundant abodes' came to mind. Love, compassion, joy and to level it all up, equanimity. Our equanimity at the mornings meeting had been a reminder. A reminder that those attending, all survivors of the surgery and immediate recovery period, were the one third, the fortunate one third. The one third who had made it through.

It was a timely reminder that survival and recovery is not a given or a foregone conclusion. I have to put effort in too. I have to reduce risk by keeping fit, eating well & re-building both my gut biome and my immune system back to 'Fit for purpose' after the devastation caused to both by the deadly cruise missiles of chemotherapy.

So, no nipping into Reeves the baker for one of their delicious Wiltshire pasties or sweet Cinnamon whirls. Oh no no no....! I'm sorry Steveboy, it's continue on with the healthy Mediterranean diet & Probiotic pills.

Shhhh, n don't tell anyone but I did celebrate my relief and joy at having made a solid, surgery decision with the guilt ridden purchase of one small Wiltshire Pasty. I'm sure having just the one won't harm will it ..? Gosh it was good though ....

D'you think one more would be ok?

Beast from the East & Caribbean

Well now. That's cheered me up. A blog from M. A lovely solo lady Motorhomer at present in Southern Portugal. As I sit in the warmth of a Wiltshire, UK, centrally heated house viewing the snowy deposits of a meeting between 'Beast from the East' and storm 'Emma' it is comforting to note storm Emma has also affected Portugal with high wind and torrential rain.

I can attest with certainty that a motorhome is not ideal accommodation when faced with more than a couple of days of severe weather. My two remaining brain cells can recall several early morning awakenings to the deafening sound of torrential rain on Sadies/Foxy10's roof as we rocked wildly at the mercy of fierce gusty winds. Most times it was a no brainer. Up sticks and move East or West to better weather, which, of course is the beauty and the whole point of living fultime in a motorhome.

Ironically, and directly related to this March 1st 2018 bitterly cold 'Beast from the East' snow storm, is the very start of my Motorhoming life. On todays UK news they are using words such as 'unprecedented', 'most unusual' and 'once in a decade'. The latter is true albeit it was slightly less than a decade when, in 2010 Scotlands central belt, was affected by similar conditions which lingered, with temperatures touching -15°c, for three weeks.

I was in that central belt, in East Kilbride, during that time. I was not in the best of places having recently lost my dear wife Kate and in general unsure as to where life was going to take me. I remember it was so cold I had to carry Tanya across the treated roads as the frozen salt stuck to her feet and damaged her pads. She loved the open snow though and bounded away into and among it.

One particularly cold and gloomy day, both mentally and weather wise, I distinctly remember, as I despondently stared out of the window, saying to myself;

"Steveboy. We ain't going thru another winter like this."

This 2018 winter with it's coincidentaly similar 'unprecedented' wintery conditions is the first full winter I have spent in the UK since uttering those words. My many Blog entries tell of my intervening fultime Motorhoming 'Continental winters'

Not that it is all doom and gloom mind you. Far from it. I am now on my 3rd and final round of Chemotherapy and here I am feeling Ok and with zest for life still coursing through my veins. Foxy10 is with a local motorhome dealer on a sale or return basis and, as far as I'm aware, not yet sold.

Steveboy has a plan!!...... I know... I don't do plans do I. OK; so let's call it an idea. You see I have a few weeks of recovery before my surgery is due where I may just go get Foxy10 back, load her up again, and head off into the sunset for one more adventure. Watch this space.
...........
Richard & I have just been graced by the appearance of Hana for a few days. Hana is from the Czech Republic and a former carer for Richard. She is an outward looking and adventurous girl and en route to 'Dominica', a small Caribbean island with connections and friends from her previous adventures. The island was recently and seriously devastated by Hurricane and Hana was returning to help out wherever she could.

She arrived with clothing all set for her Caribbean adventure and understandably was a little disorientated to find herself in extreme UK winter conditions more akin to the Artic.

I accompanied her to Salisbury station this morning and am pleased to say, despite all the rail and road chaos she is now on a London bound train and hopefully will make her flight from Gatwick tomorrow.

Bon Voyage H and please send back a little of that warm Caribbean sunshine.

Now on a different journey.

As I read the comments and stories on one of the Facebook Motorhome forums I subscribe to, I looked at the pictures of my fellow Motorhome travellers in familiar loved Spanish and Portuguese locations and felt undeniable envy and sadness.

Shaking my head I thrust smartphone back in pocket, raised myself from the chair and turned once again to the re-usable supermarket bag in front of me that was full of yet another jumble of life's accoutrements. These were all being slowly removed from Foxy10 to be sorted and re stored in my brothers house.

A Cancer journey is difficult for anyone who has to undertake it and I am no exception. Inevitably one life has to be halted or at best pushed aside for a while to make way for another journey to commence. Such a continual and repetitive process of losing something and starting something else is of course life itself. Attach the word 'Cancer' however; and what gets placed in the mind is a strong connection to Mortality, which, can so easily tip mind over into 'poor me', anxiety, worry, big fear, lethargy and depression.

I am still at the very beginning of my 'Oesophagul Cancer' journey with first Chemo starting in two days time. I am managing mental wellbeing OK so far although I have no illusions as to the potential affect this journey will have on me. I have not travelled this far in life without becoming very aware of my minds immense, creative, and mischievous shenanigans. Give mind the right circumstances and it can, and will, and does, strip me instantly, at any moment, of the capacity to retain any semblance of zest for life.

Which brings me neatly back to my re-usable bag full of accoutrements. You see it's about decisions. Mental/physical vulnerability loves nothing more than to render both body and mind in apopletic lethargic inaction. The very will to 'do something' can so very easily be drained away leaving an armchair full of dumbed down incapacity to while away the day, or days. That is why a decision has to be made. Making decisions is the precursor to doing something and, as we all know, doing something, anything, is better than sitting around feeling sorry for yourself.

A decision to sell my beloved Foxy10 Motorhome has been made hence the trips with re-usable supermarket bag as I slowly empty her out. She is now a Motorhome in need of further adventure and travel. A very good Motorhome too and one lady of whom I am confident will give excellent service to new owners.

So that is one decision which, at present is 'a task to DO' and pushes 'poor me' firmly aside. (except when I pause to peruse Facebook... lol! ) I hope too, that it will boost my finances some time during the next couple of months.

The second decision has been to research, and organize a 'supportive of Chemo' complimentary alternative. This sort of 'Holistic' approach to cancer treatment seems much better accepted and used in other parts of Europe and the world. Our dear NHS, bless em, present with blank face and stern disapproving look at any mention of 'Alternative'. Now they may well be right to be rigidly locked in to strictly evidence based medical system/practice and I am certainly not going to criticise. Indeed I am not. How could I when I am so very grateful for the excellent professional care and treatment I am at present receiving.

However; handing complete care and control over to others is just not me. I also need some control, some involvement, something I can DO. So off to Google I go and, as expected, I am soon overwhelmed, depressed and thoroughly confused.

"Y'know Steve, you're gonna have to take a punt and trust someone in this vast and confusing alternative maze. You're gonna have to choose and go with what is recommended".

That is why I am presently following, to the best of my ability (because as regular readers will know Steve and Plans don't usually go together.) a set of guidelines as laid out for me by Chris Woollams of the website www.canceractive.com.  Whether such action makes a difference or not is, at the end of the day, immaterial. The fact I will be able to say; "Well at least I had a go", is the important bit, the crucial bit, the bit that reduces anxiety, fear and worry.

What there is though, most definitely, is a nurturing and healing of both mind and body emanating from swilling down various supplements, vitamins and herbs or eating some Rainbow anti cancer diet that I personally have chosen to do.

May you all have a happy, healthy and peaceful New Year.