To the Lighthouse

Almost seven years ago, I suffered a catastrophic relapse that left me in hospital for ten days and effectively paralysed from the knees down. Modern medicine did its miracle and I was able to leave the hospital on two, rather wobbly legs. Newly diagnosed with MS and more than a little frightened about the future, I was also grieving for my past.

Not so very long before, I had led an active life-style: playing tennis, cycling and walking the Downs. The first two didn’t seem like they would ever be a possibility again, but the Downs? Would I someday, one day be able to enjoy at least a tiny stretch of them?

Though my walking was painful, slow and bearable for only very short distances, I set myself a goal: I would once again do the glorious walk from Birling Gap to the Belle Tout lighthouse. When I told a friend this, he smiled politely and gave me a kindly if pitying look. I don’t blame him. It was a ridiculous aim, a fantasy to keep me going, an insubstantial dream. But that’s the thing with dreams – they sometimes come true.

Last Saturday, mine did. It was a gorgeous early summer day and I’d just spent several hours writing in the National Trust cafe at Birling Gap. A little stiff from sitting for so long, I thought, why don’t I try the beginning of the Belle Tout walk? I’ll get some fresh air and see if I can manage the initial steep slope. My stamina for walking had been increasing for some months now and I was in a very positive frame of mind.

Shall I stay or shall I go?

So off I set, without my usual walking poles and without a companion, but the walk is so popular and so busy, I knew I could easily call for help should I need it.

The slope was mounted without too much difficulty and the joy of being up there, high on the cliffs, the blue of the sky stretching for eternity was intoxicating.

Downland walks are certainly not the easiest – tussocks of grass, flint, chalk mounds and uneven terrain constantly threaten to upset you and send you sprawling.

So to avoid such a fate, I ambled along studying the ground beneath my feet and the furze and flowers to my left. There were any number of tiny, chalk grassland plants including wild roses and beautiful conical flowers that I think were orchids. Chalk and flints littered the path, the latter being the source of Eastbourne’s wealth from Neolithic times.

When I looked up, I realised that the lighthouse really wasn’t so far away – I might just make it. Despite being a struggle, I covered the final stretch. For the final yards, I wasn’t entirely sure that my legs would cooperate, but we reached the wall and I was ecstatic.

The long walk home

The only problem now was that my legs were are shaky as a new-born foul’s. The walk back was going to be very slow and a little tricky, but fuelled by my success and not a little adrenaline, I headed home.

The winds were high, but behind and to the side of me, so that helped. However, I kept a very good distance from the cliff edge, as one great gust might well have sent me over!

In what seemed no time at all, I was back at the car park, eager to return home and tell my husband of my achievement.

And that it occurred here was especially poignant. Birling Gap and the cliffs that guard the coast are my favourite place in the world. I have always come here and when things were especially difficult, I could manage to at least enjoy the views and the biting air crisp with sea salt. For years, I had parked in the disabled bay and with the aid of a stick, staggered to the cafe. Now, my blue badge seldom leaves my bag.