The Conclusions of 2022

Wrapping the 2022 season
(prematurely) at
Dodworth railway station.

The ten-plus weeks that have elapsed since a Covid infection knee-capped my walking year already feel like a bit of a miniature lifetime as we sit down to reflect on the passage of Season 11 of my on-going career of travelling on foot, feeling about as detached from regular walking activity as I ever have, while feeling hopeful that we might be able to power on again into 2023 after we've asked the variation of that question of ourselves that comes with the turn of every December, What Have We Learned in 2022? Most significantly, before Covid put me on the canvas and ended my year in a technical knockout, We could consider the 2022 season as my best yet, as we got out to a strong start and just kept on going, with the energy levels and enthusiasm remaining high as new routes stretched out to the south-east and into the lower Dearne and middle Don valleys, expanding my field of walking experience in quite the most pleasing of ways after expressing doubts about the viability of its continued expansion only 12 months prior. It had been planned out as a moderately level year after my stretches around the hills and valleys of Kirklees, Calderdale and Airedale over the last few years, but the modest undulations of South Yorkshire gave me plenty to get busy with as we racked up the miles, aided by shedding only two weekends and one holiday week across the entire year from the walkable schedule, while also maximizing use of both of the bonus bank holidays we got thanks to the Jubilee and Funeral of HMQE2, pushing my distance traveled beyond the 600 miles and 1,000km markers. Indeed, as of our last weekend, we had four trips to still plausibly drop into the 2022 schedule, which could have put another 40+ miles onto the season, giving us a final total for the year in excess of 670 miles that I honest could have regarded as absolutely the best that I could do in my nine-month window, which now looks like it might be impossible to replicate as I regard the pace that would have to maintained to get that close again, which I don't think could be done while I still work for a living, continue to age, and face the vicissitudes of the climate of West Yorkshire, which is a good reason to curse my Covid infection just that bit more.

Unrelated picture of my
catastrophic belt failure.

Conversely, and rather strangely, 2022 has not been a particularly good year for feeling healthy, as even if we ignore my late-season Covid bout, we seem to have been working against physical issues all year, most notably coming out of an off-season which had seen my weight balloon past 80 and 81kg for the first time, with my metabolism feeling like it wasn't willing to put in the work to get my winter padding off, which is probably why the year got off to a strong start as I felt like the hard work to shed wight was going to have to be all mine instead. Across the year, we did manage to get 5kg off, which felt like a minor success but also like a whole lot of work, as I find myself at that age in life where all traces of youthful energies have dissipated and getting one's self gets just that bit harder, a problem noted by many of my contemporaries as that try to force themselves back into exercise routines and social whirls that have been disrupted by two years of Covid isolation and inactivity. Otherwise, I hoped that my limb and joint issues were proving to be a minor concern after the grief they gave me in late 2021, but after the fading of the year, it seems that they are still there in full effect, coming back on as the cold days returned and continuing post season, ensuring that I will be continuing to do all my regular walking with a stick in an attempt to take the pressure off my knee and hip, while I contemplate seeking the advice of experts in the orthopaedic field and consequently add myself to the massive backlog of people needing rectification of their ailments that has built up across the pandemic years. Then there's that small issue of my Covid infection, which still feels like it's too early to tell if it's had a last effect on me as the weeks of inactivity that I've experienced since the end of October haven't really felt that different from the decline of any regular Dark Season, as we shelter ourselves away from the perpetual gloom and intense chill of December, while keep our Festive Season activity to a minimum, meaning that I haven't been testing out the extent of my post-viral fatigue since the walking year concluded, and the only obvious remnant that I've been obviously experiencing is an appetite that is not easily satiated despite me getting deep into my seasonal routine of bulk catering for one, which doesn't auger well for early-going weight loss in 2023.

2022's Company of Boots
are all headed for retirement!

Additionally, it looks like 2022 turned out to be a bad year for my boots, as all three pairs that I put the miles down on across the season turned out to be headed for their expiry date by the end of season, with my heavy boots and medium-weight walkers both getting significant action over the course of my 1,000km, before they eventually failed on me, with pair #8, the Mountain Warehouse Storm boots, giving up on me by mid season, having only done occasional work since being originally donned in May 2021, with the uppers and soles still in good condition. Their issue turned out to be the heel supports under the insoles collapsing under the weight of my footfalls, rendering them insanely uncomfortable to wear unless off-road, which there was a distinct lack of across the course of paths to Dearne and Don, which sends them into early retirement after only a year in spite of the promise of their soles being guaranteed for 5,000 miles (though I hope they might be redeemable by applying some Orthaheel supports to them, having inherited a bagful of them, care of My late Father). My successful transition of the year was into my medium-weight Regattas, pair #7b, which did me much service across the three Pandemic years, while becoming my primary pair in this last season, after road walking in heavier boots felt like I was dragging my limbs around at times, and finding that stronger ankles didn't suffer nearly as badly as they had in previous seasons, meaning that they saw all the action to the season's end before their heels had been worn through to the point of only having millimetres between my stocking-ed feet and the tarmac and pavements below them, meaning they had no further viable use (despite the leather uppers enduring still). My regular trainers also passed the point of continued viability too, not normally worth mentioning here, but noted as they were purchased at not too high a price under the ACBC (Anything Can Be Changed) moniker, claiming to be an environmentally sound product due to be made from the plastic from recycled bottles, but 12+ months of heavy abusage saw them not really last the course, wearing off the heels to dump their own share of microplastics across the pavements of Morley and Leeds, and having the uppers wear through too ensuring they ultimately ended up in the landfill that they were initially redeemed from, resulting in their socially responsible value being minimal, on measure.

Unrelated picture of the December
 Sunset over Leeds Station.

Otherweise, a reflection on the year can only conclude that 2022 has been an absolute mess, as we've witnessed open warfare return to Europe, an event that's turning into a long, grinding stalemate after 10 months of fighting, and also witnessing politicians on the right globally starting to flex their authoritarian muscles and creating new problems where they didn't exist previously, while not attempting to address the ones that already exist (and having endured for far too long already), a disheartening backdrop to watch all other sorts of chaos unfolding before. In Britain, we have at least been able to witness the fall of our useless pathological liar of a Prime Minister, after some of his cabinet colleagues finally became sick of lying on his behalf, illustrating that a tiny streak of integrity remaining among some of those who would govern us after the wake of Partygate and the cover up of the sexual indiscretions of multiple MPs, not that they covered themselves in glory by appointing a successor who managed to last only seven weeks before resigning after attempting to crash the Pound due to disastrous budget planning, resulting in us gaining our fifth leader since the debacle of 2016 unfolded, who must be noted as our first investment banker PM. They now inherit themselves an economic crisis, where the Cost of Living crisis has been emerging for more than a year, as inflation surges to levels not seen in decades and pushes tens of thousands nationally into absolute poverty, and energy costs rise as Europe scrambles for supply that doesn't come from Russia, fueling price increases that nonetheless smack of naked profiteering by those who need to maintain their margins, which is the absolute cherry on top of a Brexit, Covid and Ukraine War cocktail, which has at least not yet added famine to the mix, despite the disruptions to the global food supply network. 

We can also look to a burgeoning Winter of Discontent (tm), as swathes of British public sector workers take to striking to protest their stagnating pay rates, underfunded working conditions and the lack of respect shown to them by the government in the wake of the Covid pandemic, where not two years ago they were being lionized as the nation's Key Workers, but are now regarded as something of an inconvenience and embarrassment by those who would govern us, and who are not convinced by the claims of lack for funds when there's always money available for bailouts and furlough, and the awarding of government contracts to notable donors to their cause. It's a miserable situation to observe, knowing that those in charge would much more happily engaging in strike-breaking than in dialogue, as that there's a nasty authoritarian streak in these people that would rather restrict civil liberties and the right to protest rather than actually paying a living wage to workers across the fields of nursing, teaching and public transportation, or engaging in meaningfully addressing the global crises which still unfold, be they political, financial, social or environmental, which has deepened my gloomy mood that has settled in since my walking year was abruptly ended. It's in this moment that we have to reflect on the passing of HMQE2, after a reign of 70 years and a career as a public figure of more than 80 years, which is the definitive 'end of an era' moment of my lifetime, and despite not being a monarchist of any kind, it's nonetheless right to regard such a long career with respect, as we shall certainly not see the like again, as they maintained themselves with a quiet dignity and willingness towards being both popular and enigmatic in their public and private lives, which seemed extremely rare in the modern world, and we look forwards trying to get used to the idea of Chuck Wales now actually being KC3...

Next Up: Where will 2023 lead us when the Dark Season passes?