Life after LEJOG
Life after LEJOG Life after LEJOG began on the approach to Inverness during a phone call from girlfriend Sarah. To set the scene, I was still buzzing from crossing the Cairngorms in one hit. Half-jar of whiskey in backpack to be consumed at next camp spot outside Tomatin. Tomorrow, Inverness. All is well. Ring ring, ring - "Guess what -" she said, "I've got a transfer to Torquay. And I'm going to move there. Permanently. Do you want to come with me?" I didn't need to think about that. LEJOG is a very long series of grabbing opportunities when they arise, without dithering. Torquay: friends, seaside, fish and chips, those giant Devon hills - immediately I said, "Yes!" We spoke for half an hour as I made my way towards Tomatin on a path beside the A9, identifying landscape features only ever seen from the plane. And it all made sense. Move to Torquay and begin again, with or without the blessing of my employer. There are higher c