The first few miles were through neighborhoods that I thought only existed in TV shows and movies. Gorgeously stunning houses with stone fronts, Land Rovers in the driveway and perfectly manicured lawns. So basically the first few miles were spent walking wide eyed and drooling while trying not to trip and look like a complete idiot.
Then mile 6 hit.
I am not sure what it was about mile 6 but I'll be perfectly honest with you... I didn't think we would make it. Well, I at least thought I wouldn't make it.
I absolutely, without a doubt, thought I would be taking the sweeper van by lunch. Not that there is anything wrong with taking the sweeper van... I just so desperately wanted to walk all 60 miles.
But somewhere between miles 6 - 12 I thought I would have to give up that dream.
I believe this is where we were introduced to the '3day mile'. Up until this point if the signs said 1 mile to pit stop/lunch/grab and go, I believed them... I trusted them. But miles 6 through 12 ruined for all the rest. I can't be sure but I could swear that one of the '3day miles' was actually 2.6 miles... uphill.
Then we came to the stop before the lunch break. For some reason that stop energized us and we picked up some steam. Before we knew it... lunch!
Lunch was uneventful until a half a mile after we started walking again... when I discovered I didn't have my camera on me. Almost instantly I knew what happened.
We made a pit stop at the port a johns on the way out and usually I leave all my belongings in a pile right outside (as does everyone). When I got in I realized I still had my camera in my very loose pocket. If I left it, I risked losing the camera to the great port a john abyss... no way I would be going after that. Or I could open the door, toss it out and grab it when I was done. Or I could hang it on the hook of the port a john and think to myself, even if I don't remember it, I'll hear it clunk on the door on my way out.
Any guesses?
You got it. Dummy me left it on the hook and there was no clunk that reminded me to grab it. So there I left it.
I hightailed it back to lunch hoping that it was still in the same spot... or at the very least an honest 3dayer picked it up and turned it in.
No luck at the port a johns... and I checked all that were around the one I was in, just to be sure. At this point I am frantic. My camera and my pictures mean the world to me. I ask someone through held back tears if they had anyone turn in a camera. No luck.
They did reassure me that more than likely some crew member had it in their pocket and that they would turn it in at base camp. After asking many more people and fretting about my camera, I turned to leave.
I still had a lot more ground to cover and I just cost myself some extremely valuable time. So I left. Completely and utterly defeated... and pretty sure I had seen the last of my camera.
Laura and I finally made it into camp... around 5:30 or 6. Not too bad for 21.5 miles!
We snapped this picture with the iphone and then I went straight to lost and found.
They did have a camera but it wasn't mine. I cried. I willed myself not to but my tears overrode the willpower. The people in the command center (where all valuable lost and found item go) were so nice and they reassured me that someone would turn it in.
I left and called my husband. I bawled on the phone to him... and he got just as upset as I was (without the tears though). I love him for that. I just needed someone to commiserate with me.
I got off the phone and cried some more. Some nice crew member sat down and when I explained to him that I lost the camera, he said someone was sure to turn it in. I just muttered 'if life where that rosey then we wouldn't have to do this walk'... *sigh* I suck. To that guy, I am really sorry that my cynicism won out. You were very nice and I should have just accepted that.
I checked in with command center several more times that night... and once there was even another canon... but it wasn't mine.
Completely heartbroken and defeated, I went to bed.
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