Raising over £4,400 for the ICU Department at the RUH Bath

With drivers organised, walking companions ready to keep me company and weeks of training under my belt, I set off on Saturday 30th May, exactly one year after losing my Dad, to walk the 94 miles of the Kennet and Avon Canal. The journey would take me from Kennet Mouth in Reading all the way to the Neptune Statue in Bristol.

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Day One – Reading to Woolhampton (13¾ miles)

If you could have written the worst possible start to a challenge, this might have been it!

Arriving in Reading with my eldest daughter, Mia, we headed off to find Kennet Mouth, where the Kennet and Avon Canal joins the River Thames. Easier said than done. We spent three miles wandering around Reading trying to find where to actually get onto the canal! Those extra miles didn’t seem too significant at the time, but as the week went on I realised they definitely weren’t helping.

It was 29 degrees with very little shade, and this stretch of the route felt eerily remote. The canal banks were lush and almost untouched, bursting with wildlife. We were surrounded by Banded Demoiselle dragonflies—I had never seen so many in one place.

One thing that surprised me was that the towpath doesn’t follow one straightforward route. Instead, it diverts through fields, swaps from the north side of the canal to the south and then back again, keeping you constantly on your toes.

One enormous field seemed to go on forever and, when we finally rejoined the towpath, we were stopped in our tracks by a herd of cows sheltering from the heat. They were sprawled across the entire path and had absolutely no intention of moving for anyone that day.

And it is quiet—really quiet. There are long stretches with no boats, houses, cafés or even people. Unsurprisingly, we managed to get lost again, only this time we found ourselves walking alongside the M4 instead of the canal. Another U-turn added another two miles and, if I’m honest, my confidence took a real knock.

Having now walked 11 miles with barely a proper break, we both started wondering what on earth I had been thinking when I signed up for this challenge.

After a delayed pit stop in Theale for some much-needed lunch, and the best drink of Coke I’d ever had, we finally arrived in Woolhampton. We were tired, having walked an extra four miles and clocked up around 44,000 steps, and I was beginning to wonder how the rest of the week was going to pan out.

Thankfully, I finished the day with a new strategy, courtesy of Mia: ignore everything else and keep an eye on the bridge and lock numbers. The bridge numbers increase towards Bristol, while the lock numbers decrease.

Genius.

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Day Two – Woolhampton to Hungerford (15½ miles)

I started Day Two with a little trepidation but, hopefully, a bit more experience under my belt. I set off with a good friend, Beck. I’d originally planned this as a solo challenge, but it didn’t take long to realise that having someone with me each day was invaluable—not only for keeping me on the right track but also for keeping me focused and encouraged. I genuinely couldn’t have done it without my walkers.

Another scorching day lay ahead, and there was one thing everyone had warned me about: blisters. Sure enough, I had one enormous blister on my right heel. Thankfully, I’d come prepared and slapped a plaster on it straight away. Choosing the right plaster is key, although I’ll come back to that later with another lesson I learned the hard way!

As we chatted our way along the towpath, we noticed lots of little ‘signs’. We passed barges with names that reminded me of important people in my life and, although there weren’t quite as many dragonflies as yesterday, there were still plenty to see. What I didn’t see was a robin. Since my Dad died, robins have often appeared when I’ve needed them most, so I quietly asked where he was more than once that day.

I certainly could have done with his help about five miles in when my knee suddenly seized up. Whether it was an old injury flaring up or my blister changing the way I was walking, I don’t know, but it was incredibly painful and reduced me to a snail’s pace. Pulling my shin compression sleeves up over my knees gave me a little relief, but only a little.

When Beck spotted a Tesco, we spent the next slow half mile debating whether to stop. She was determined to fill me up with painkillers, while I was equally determined not to add any unnecessary distance to the day’s total. Once again, I was reminded that two minds are better than one. I would have carried on, but stopping meant I could make it the next couple of miles into Newbury for lunch. What a beautiful town? I’m definitely going back.

A sock change, blister inspection and blocks of ice wedged around my knee made for a surprisingly pleasant pit stop.

The final eight and a half miles—thankfully with no detours—felt endless. I counted my steps to 100, then started again, over and over. Then I switched to aiming for the next bridge, anything to distract myself from the pain. Once again, I found myself wondering how I was ever going to finish the week.

Two things kept me going. The first was remembering my Dad’s bravery while he was in ICU. The second was my music playlist. Every person who had sponsored me had chosen their favourite song, giving me over four hours of music, each track carrying a different memory or story. It felt as though all those people were walking alongside me.

Eventually, I reached Hungerford with a huge sigh of relief. But knowing I had to get up and do it all again tomorrow made for a very sleepless night.

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Day Three – Hungerford to Pewsey (14½ miles)

After a big nudge from family and friends, I accepted that carrying on walking with my knee in its current state wasn’t the cleverest idea. I could barely bend it properly, but one thing was certain—I wasn’t giving up. Although I was disappointed that the challenge wasn’t going exactly to plan, changing my approach meant I still had a chance of completing it.

So… out came the bikes!

Oh my goodness, what a relief. No pressure on my knee and suddenly I was flying along.

My friend Drew, a keen cyclist, joined me for the day. We started from Pewsey because, logistically, it was the only way we could organise ourselves and the bikes. The plan was to cycle from Pewsey to Hungerford and then back again.

Easy, right?

Absolutely not.

We reached the 459-metre Bruce Tunnel, where walkers and cyclists have to leave the towpath and climb a steep path around it. I’m not sure whether it’s because so few people use this stretch or because the lack of maintenance has put people off, but the usable path was no more than about 30 centimetres wide and completely overgrown with nettles and brambles. We battled on for a while before admitting defeat and turning back towards Pewsey.

On the return journey, I skidded approaching one of the bridges. Suddenly we heard a faint siren and realised it was coming from my watch. It had detected the skid as a crash and automatically sent an SOS, complete with my exact location, to my sister. Unfortunately, the map showed me underneath the bridge, so she thought I’d cycled straight into the canal!

Once we’d reassured everyone that I was alive and well—great system, by the way—we carried on. The route was incredibly bumpy and, at times, so close to the edge of the canal that I was convinced I was about to end up in the water.

The cycling gave my knee the rest it desperately needed, although my bum definitely took the brunt of it instead!

And now for the blister plaster story…

I’d been ultra-organised and bought two packs of Compeed, convinced I was fully prepared. What I hadn’t realised was that they were two completely different types. One is a cushioned plaster designed to reduce friction, while the other is a healing plaster that stays in place while the blister heals.

When I got home and noticed my heel was bleeding, I did what seemed perfectly sensible and decided to replace the plaster.

Except it wouldn’t come off.

It was completely stuck.

Cue my Mum gently trying to remove it with water, oil and anything else we could think of while I winced in agony. It was only afterwards that I discovered it was doing exactly what it was designed to do. You’re supposed to leave it on for several days while it dries out and heals the blister.

You’re definitely not supposed to pull it off.

Ouch!

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Day Four – Pewsey to Devizes (12 miles)

By now, I’d become quite accustomed to ending each day with a cold bath—something I was actually starting to look forward to. My legs felt heavy every evening, like they belonged to someone else.

After yesterday’s cycling break, though, I woke up raring to go.

This stretch of the towpath is local to me and the familiarity gave me a real confidence boost. My knee felt good, although I had it heavily strapped as a precaution, and I’d borrowed some walking poles, which would prove to be an absolute lifesaver over the coming days.

We were still enjoying sunny weather, although it was a little cooler and there was a storm forecast. Feeling perhaps a little overconfident, I set off at quite a pace. Cam, my walking partner for the day, had been given very strict instructions to make me stop every two miles to stretch and rest my knee.

During one of those breaks, we sat down on a bench and Cam noticed the date engraved on the plaque: 30th May. The very date I’d started the challenge and the first anniversary of my Dad’s death. Another little sign.

As we passed Ladies Bridge (120), built with its elegant balustrades and widened canal to satisfy local landowner Lady Susannah Wroughton, we stopped for lunch in All Cannings before carrying on towards Woodway Bridge.

The walk slowed considerably, but it brought a lovely surprise. We spotted my friend Tim, a professional photographer, taking our pictures. Seeing familiar faces along the route became incredibly emotional. I’d been living in this strange little bubble all week, away from normal life, and anyone I knew was almost guaranteed to get tears of relief and gratitude from me.

Then my knee went.

Completely.

It seized up without warning, leaving me in a huge amount of pain. Once again, I resorted to counting steps up to 100 before starting over, using anything I could to distract myself from the discomfort. The towpath felt endless and I could have sworn every bend in the canal moved further away the closer I got.

Cam was endlessly patient, quietly walking behind me while I shuffled along. Some miles were taking me 45 minutes to complete. A couple of heavy downpours at least gave us an excuse to stop and put our waterproofs on.

Along the way we met another man walking in memory of his own Dad, travelling from Pewsey towards Wells. Moments like that reminded me I wasn’t alone in what I was doing.

A lady also stopped to hear my story and kindly sponsored me there and then. The generosity of strangers never ceased to amaze me.

Then came the words everyone wants to hear after a long day walking:

“I’m meeting you in Devizes with cake!”

Mandy had baked a carrot cake to celebrate me reaching Devizes. Because I was moving at snail’s pace, she’d been waiting so long that she’d walked out to meet us a mile before the finish.

The hug she gave me brought tears of relief, pain, gratitude and exhaustion all at once, and she walked the final mile into Devizes with us.

There wasn’t much time to celebrate, though. I’d already booked myself an emergency sports massage in the hope of sorting my leg out before the next day’s challenge.

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Day Five – Devizes to Bradford-on-Avon (12½ miles)

It’s probably worth mentioning at this point that I’m a Sports Massage Therapist, so I knew what was going on with my knee and was fairly confident I wasn’t causing any lasting damage. In an ideal world, stopping to rest would have been the sensible option, but I wasn’t prepared to do that. So instead, I managed it as best I could.

The decision to cycle again today meant I stood a much better chance of reaching Bristol with two functioning legs!

I’d even started thinking of all the alternative ways I could complete the challenge if walking became impossible. Kayak? Scooter? Walking backwards? Somehow having a backup plan—even a ridiculous one—made me feel better. Amazing what goes through your mind when you’re moving at the same speed as the ducks on the towpath.

I had lovely friends ready to walk with me today and willing to switch to cycling if needed, but after a late-night decision I chose to do this stretch alone.

This is where I grew up, and where my Dad grew up too. I wanted some quiet time to reflect on why I was doing this challenge and to simply spend a few hours thinking about him.

So the bike made another appearance.

The planned route finished in Bradford-on-Avon and I flew along, stopping at places that held special memories and to watch the family of geese I’d seen countless times during my training walks. It felt strangely comforting to find them still there, carrying on as normal.

Further along the towpath I spotted a familiar face in the distance—the charity walker I’d met in All Cannings the day before. I think I made him jump appearing on a bike instead of on foot! We stopped for a chat, wished each other luck and then headed off in different directions, each continuing our own journey.

After stopping in Bradford-on-Avon for a coffee, I had a brainwave. If I carried on cycling for a few extra miles today, I’d have fewer miles to walk tomorrow.

This stretch of the canal is full of life, with boats, walkers, cyclists and runners everywhere. Before I knew it, I’d crossed the beautiful Avoncliff Aqueduct and reached Brassknocker Basin.

I can’t help feeling a little disappointed that I wasn’t walking every mile of the challenge as I’d planned. “Failing” is far too strong a word, but I did need to adjust my expectations. As my own Sports Therapist reminded me, you never know how your body is going to respond to something like this.

By cycling an extra five miles today, I gave myself the best possible chance of walking into Bath tomorrow.

I headed home feeling refreshed, optimistic and, for the first time in several days, hopeful that Bristol was genuinely within reach.

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Day Six – Bradford-on-Avon to Bath (9¾ miles)

Starting the day at Brassknocker Basin, Nic and I did the sensible thing and popped into the Angelfish Café to pick up some cake for the journey.

Thanks to yesterday’s extra cycling, today’s walking distance had been reduced to around five miles, so this really was going to be a walk in the park.

Waterproofs on, we set off, and it seemed like only five minutes later we were stopping for lunch. It was, without doubt, the easiest day of the week. No injury slowing me down, no getting lost—it was almost as if I finally knew what I was doing!

After our lunch stop, we carried on towards Bath and, wow, the scenery was stunning. Walking through Sydney Gardens Tunnel, with its elegant bridges, colourful boats and beautifully kept surroundings, was one of the highlights of the whole route.

It’s here that the Kennet and Avon Canal officially comes to an end at Widcombe Lock (Lock 7) in Bath, before the route joins the Bristol & Bath Railway Path for the final stretch into Bristol.

Unfortunately, our progress came to an abrupt halt at Bathwick Hill, where the towpath was closed for resurfacing. We were only about a quarter of a mile from our planned finishing point, so Nic and I made the executive decision to call it a day there.

After everything that had happened during the week, it felt wonderfully restful.

Tomorrow was the final day. Every part of my body was tired, so there was a small part of me that was relieved it was nearly over. But I was excited too. The finish line was finally within sight, and five of us would be setting off together on our bikes.

What could possibly go wrong!?

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Day Seven – Bath to the Neptune Statue, Bristol (16¾ miles)

Day Seven was wonderful.

My two daughters and their boyfriends were always going to be the ones to finish this challenge with me. I never actually asked them—ha ha—but they knew I’d want them there.

We set off from the riverside path full of smiles, excitement and, in my case, plenty of emotion. The Bristol & Bath Railway Path is fantastic for walkers and cyclists: traffic-free, well signposted, sheltered from the heat and surrounded by lovely scenery. It made for a perfect final day.

We were supposed to stop for something to eat along the way but somehow sailed straight past our planned lunch stop before anyone realised!

As we reached Bristol, the cycle routes were brilliantly signposted but, with five of us trying to navigate somewhere we’d never cycled before, we still managed to ride up and down the same road a couple of times. Sound familiar?

Then, just like that, we turned a corner and there it was.

The Neptune Statue.

The finish line.

I’d done it.

All 94 miles… or well over 100 if you include all the wrong turns!

That chaotic first day in Reading felt like a lifetime ago. I’d travelled through two counties, passed around 230 bridges and 104 locks, and somehow made it to the end.

The challenge was complete.

It sounds like an abrupt ending, and that’s exactly how it felt. One minute I’d been completely consumed by the challenge, and the next I found myself thinking,

“Oh… is that it? I’m done?”

We already had a lift organised home, so to make life easier for Glenn and the truck, we cycled another six miles back out to Warmley, where we celebrated with cheese scones and cake.

The toilet was inside a Doctor Who TARDIS in the garden, which somehow seemed the perfect ending to a week that had been full of surprises.

I was unusually quiet on the journey home. I kept waiting for a huge sense of relief or achievement, but instead I felt a little lost. After months of training and then spending every waking moment focused on completing this challenge, it suddenly felt strange for it all to be over.

Part of me didn’t want it to end.

But I was incredibly proud that I’d completed it and even prouder that we’d raised over £4,400 in memory of my Dad.

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Looking Back

Challenges like this aren’t just physical—they teach you a lot.

Every single person who walked or cycled with me was amazing. They all knew me well enough to understand exactly what I needed on any given day. Some quietly walked behind me while I shuffled along in pain, never making me feel rushed. Others kept me laughing, distracted me or gave me the push I needed to keep going.

I genuinely couldn’t have completed the challenge without them.

The drivers who ferried me to the start and collected me at the end of each day were just as important, making sure I could come home every evening and recover for the next day’s adventure.

Then there was the WhatsApp group—absolutely top tier. They tracked my live location, sent messages that made me laugh and cry in equal measure and cheered me on every single day.

People turned up with cake, lent me walking poles, leg massagers and even gave me reflexology and sports massages. I was presented with a cap embroidered with “Napper’s Walk”, which I’ll treasure forever.

Meanwhile, my Mum and sister were having private conversations all week, convinced I should have stopped after Day Three when I was really struggling. Thankfully, they kept those thoughts to themselves because they knew full well I wasn’t going to stop.

Looking back, despite all the pain and challenges, the Kennet and Avon Canal is an absolutely beautiful route.

The Reading end is bursting with wildlife and greenery. The canal is peaceful, the water remarkably clear and there are very few boats or people. As you move towards Newbury, it becomes busier and more populated. By the time you reach Devizes and Bath, the towpath is bustling with walkers, cyclists and boats, the canal narrows, the water becomes murkier, but the bridges become grander and the history even more apparent.

It really is a fascinating journey across southern England, following a route built over 200 years ago.

Thank you to everyone who supported me, walked beside me, drove me, encouraged me, donated and believed I could do it.

This challenge wasn’t just about reaching Bristol. It was about honouring my Dad, accepting help when I needed it, and discovering that even when things don’t go to plan, you can still reach your destination. Every step—and every pedal stroke—was worth it.

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My brilliant walkers, cyclists and drivers:

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I completed this fundraiser in memory of my Dad. Following a short cancer diagnosis, he underwent chemotherapy treatment but suffered a very rare reaction to it, resulting in a 10 -day stay in ICU at RUH Bath. Throughout that time, the care he received was exceptional. The staff showed remarkable skill, compassion. and dedication, and our family will always be grateful for the support they gave us.

Sadly. my Dad never made it home. This fundraiser was my way of the thanking the ICU team who cared for him so well and of supporting the vital work they do every day. Thank you to everyone who donated and helped honour his memory.

Karen x