Day 9 – Lincoln to Campton (continued)
We still had 5 miles to go to get to our hotel and when you’ve pushed your feet to the limit too early, it makes for a very long afternoon.
We couldn’t go more than half a mile without taking a rest for our feet. We had given our all and there was no more left in the tank.
And still we walked. Rested and then walked some more.
Griffin noticed that I was in some serious pain. “We’re almost there, mom” he said looking at the map he had downloaded the night before. “It’s right up there, around the bend.”
We passed under a bridge, the sounds of cars on Route 93 above us.
“I have to stop, Griffin. I need to stop. Now” I groaned getting ready to sit on the rocks even though they were covered with bird poop.
“Mom, I swear, the hotel is just around this corner. Come on Mom, we can do this. You can do this.”
I sighed and adjusted my pack.
“Okay, let’s go.”
The hotel was around the corner (and up a small hill.) Griffin stayed outside of the main office while I checked ourselves in.
We hadn’t seen any restaurants or stores since we had stopped earlier for our sandwiches. It looked like those sandwiches were going to be our lunch and dinner for the day.
“There isn’t any place around here that delivers is there?” I optimistically asked the woman behind the check-in counter.
“There sure is,” she said and with a certain amount of pity in her eyes she dug out a menu from a folder.
“Griffin, we’re saved!” I reported to him as I waved the menu over my head.
From a restaurant located 2 miles down the road, (and therefore in the delivery zone)we ordered pizza, eggplant parmesan, and a salad to eat along with our nightly doses of Motrin.
That was the night I discovered that if you raised your feet above your head (I lay on the bed with my butt and legs pressed upward against the wall) it took away the pain in my swollen feet pretty quickly. Between that and the anti-inflammatories kicking in, at least I’d be able to get to sleep.
But I wondered what we had done too ourselves to be in this kind of pain? Neither of us could walk without holding onto the walls for support. And here it was at the end of Day 9. Would we ever stop being in pain? Would we be able to walk the next day? Would we have to extend our already extended schedule?
Would this walk ever be over?
(Here’s some information on why we took this trip.)
Wendy Thomas writes about the lessons learned while raising children and chickens in New Hampshire. Contact her at Wendy@SimpleThrift.com
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