Day 43: The Trudge to Newquay — Hills, Headwinds & a Hint of Hope

Day 43. Wadebridge to Newquay. Can you believe it? Just two more days of waking up, strapping in, and wheeling out. That’s it. The end is nearly in sight, and yet, it feels like both an eternity and a blink at the same time.
Today, however, was less about reflection and more about sheer survival. It was, without question, what I’ve now dubbed “The Trifecta of Misery” — hills, rain, and a headwind with the subtlety of a freight train.
First, the hills. Oh, the hills. If Cornwall were a theme park, it would be sponsored by chiropractors and called “The Big Dipper & Other Bad Ideas.” One hill had an 20% incline with camber. Basically, it slanted sideways and upwards — like climbing a wall while doing the limbo. Apparently, the local rugby club even has a nickname for that monster. I saw it and turned to the car support and said, with zero irony, “I don’t think I can get up that.” Spoiler: I did. Barely. Still not sure how. Possibly witchcraft.
Then there was the rain — non-stop, relentless, the kind of wet that makes you question all your life choices. Not a dry moment all day. I was soaked, the pushrims were soaked, my soul was soaked. Vicky, superhero that she is, managed a reroute around a lethal downhill section. Honestly, she deserves a medal and a nap.
Oh, and the wind? Let’s just say it wasn’t “a bit breezy.” It was a howling, soul-snatching headwind that grew stronger as the day wore on, like some malevolent force knew I was struggling and thought, “You know what this needs? More resistance.”
Add to that: potholes, uneven surfaces, and roads that looked like someone tried to resurface them with broken digestive biscuits.
Emotionally, it wasn’t much easier. There’s a strange loneliness to this journey. The support team is incredible, don’t get me wrong (well, all minus 2 of them.. And they have been great about 20% of the time and either left me believing I was speaking to a ghost, or left me sobbing like a baby after being screamed at for sending a text message!). But when I say I’m tired, there’s a difference between “I didn’t sleep well” and “I just tried to scale the Tour de France in a wheelchair.” It’s not a complaint — just a reality. A different kind of tired, a different kind of alone, so repling "yer so are we" every time, was beyond annoying!!
But then... there were the bright spots. A beautiful message from Ann, a hilarious sheep video from Phil and his daughters (one of whom is allegedly naming a sheep after me — here’s hoping it's not Plonker). And the Newquay Rugby Club — warm welcomes, curious kids, and some serious up-and-coming talent on the pitch. It reminded me why I’m doing this.
Libby and Vicky worked their magic again with post-wheeling treatment (seriously, saints), and Neil even brought food all the way from a different caravan. Small things, big difference.
So no, not the best day. But not the worst either. It was hard. Lonely. Wet. And yet — full of love and just enough stubbornness to get through it. Two more days to go. Let’s hope they bring fewer hills, less rain, and maybe a warm towel.
Fingers crossed.

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• End2end-therugbyrelay
• Womens Rugby
• Wheelchair
• Crps
• Fibromyalgia