John O’Groats to Land’s End
The Big Hoof began in 2020 after a 1000 mile ride down the length of the UK to remember Leo, a dear friend, who died of Cystic Fibrosis.
‘I wanted it to last forever.’
‘Irelanda and I, a 6-year-old Highland/Connemara mare, set off on our journey to remember a friend of mine, Leo, who died of Cystic Fibrosis at the age of 26.
Leo was an incredible inspiration, friend and human being to everyone he met. He chose to live his 26 years full of love and hope; he never wasted a second and remains a hero to many. I am now not so much younger than he was when he died and as the pandemic took hold of the world back in the summer of 2020, I realised how many people with underlying health issues, such as CF, would need serious help and support during, and after, the spread of the virus. Now it is our mission to help anyone who needs hope most.’
The plan
First of all I needed a horse. It was lockdown 2021 in central Scotland - you could barely ride a bike. Ruaridh Ormiston from Highland Horse Fun in Kingussie came to the rescue; he took a chance on a total stranger in a time of total adversity. I only rode Irelanda twice before the big day. Early on I realised that The Big Hoof needed to become a reality before the beginning of the journey, otherwise no one would take me seriously: I contacted hundreds of potential sponsors, radio stations, newspapers and magazines to tell the world what I was doing. We managed to get onto BBC Radio 2, a few bits of press and then a packet of tea bags from Yorkshire Tea, a bottle of whisky from Glenfiddich Whisky, chocolate from Tunnoch’s and some vouchers from Sipsmith’s Gin. After 20 days on a lettuce farm to get some money together, we were on our way!
Day 1-7: the first leg
For the first 7 days I was loyally followed by Ruaridh Ormiston in his carriage and Sheila Ann-Ryan and Angela Ross on their horses - all the way to Belladrum, Inverness. On day three Irelanda and I fell into a sink hole on the Caithness Moor and that same day I took out her bit and we rode bit-less. Both of us were new to each other and both of us had no idea what to expect. Each step made were steps made together, further into unknown places, but every second we were learning; this formed the basis of our bond that proved unwavering for the rest of our journey, without it we would have been lost in the face of adversity. It was a sad goodbye to Ruaridh, Sheila and Angela after day 6 and a well-deserved rest day for Irelanda on day 7. The scenery was almost shocking in its beauty.
Days 7-24: from a thistle to a rose
After our first night of camping alone we headed over the dark blue waters of Loch Ness and descended down into Fort Augustus. The next day we headed into the mists of the Corrieyairack Pass and disaster struck 778 metres up as she lost a shoe. We walked side by side 16 miles to Ardverikie house - Dave, the first of many farriers, came to the rescue. From here we travelled along the banks of Loch Rannoch, Loch Tay, along the Rob Roy Way and then past Glasgow. Finally we found The Chariots of Fire, near Lockerbie, one of the many extraordinary places Irelanda and I were lucky to discover. Truly inspiring strangers that carried us down the country in baling twine and kindness. We reached £10,000 on day 18.
Days 24-35: point of no return
As if it were a horrible sign, as soon as we crossed the border Irelanda went lame and I walked 80 miles on foot to keep the hope alive. She was transported to me 4 days later - she was better, but I could barely move my left leg. It was a timely reminder that Irelanda’s well-being was the foundation of this entire adventure; it was her health and forward-going eagerness that truly drove us on. I have never seen an animal so determined and so full of character. Throughout the journey we had routine vet checks and her form and endurance were consistently admired. It was as if she knew that we had to get there, that she knew the difference she was making. By day 28 (half-way) we had raised £14,000 and travelled 573 miles.
Days 35-43: riding the storms
I had forgotten when things had been easy. Scotland was now like a green and blue dream. A tree fell on us in storm Francis, we were charged by a cow going over the Pennines and all the while the rains fell and fell and the way was made heavy by the wet mud and the winds. Never before have I seen such generosity and kindness from total strangers. I will never forget the day we rode down the Devil’s Beef Tub, a valley buried in history, to be greeted by outstretched hands, waiting for us with what little they could give. How far the generosity of heart truly goes, it is immeasurable. No one needed to help us but everyone and anyone did; feed and shelter for both of us, donations, kind messages, hugs, riders, walkers, cyclists, unicyclists! I realised in these darker days that this journey was not one that belonged to me, or Irelanda, but to everyone. It was a journey that we were all sharing. I knew Leo was looking down.
Days 43-50: the sun
The kind and beautiful madness of the Giffords Circus; the ancient trails of Glastonbury; the pubs; the thick green fields and buckets of homemade cider; finally, it seemed, the dark days were over. Irelanda and I descended down into the warmer hours of the south of England and the storms were left behind. From the moment this trip was only an idea, I promised myself that I would never rush or cut corners, knowing that it is in the little moments that the greatest adventures and experiences are had. This promise was made into a multicloured vision as a hot-air balloon floated over us with two little figures waving down: ‘We know The Big Hoof!’ We had met this lovely couple earlier in the week while talking to a roof thatcher about the times we live in.
Days 50-57: the last week
On day 7 Irelanda and I had covered over 1000 miles and raised £18,500. We left the warmth of the Duke of York pub in Devon and heard our names being mentioned from a builder’s van. Hours later we bumped into Michael Morpurgo but this sense of a dream was slowly fading away: I realised what was soon to happen. Riding in one direction had become my life, raising awareness for the Cystic Fibrosis Trust my job and Irelanda my only companion. Radios were calling us up, messages were flooding in, traffic being stopped for cars slowing down and offering their pennies - with two days to the end we had raised £25,000. The warmth and love shown by the south of England was incredible; the kindness, the support, the real and genuine care. What moved me most was the sufferers who come out to meet us, some of whom had followed us down the country. The sense of hope was unimaginable, but the sense of an ending was now a notion only too real.
The final day
The final day came and went as quickly as the fall of a wave. I saw black dots at the end of a road with only the afternoon horizon behind them. The black dots became people: sufferers, family, friends, strangers, bikers. Irelanda and I were transported back up to Scotland and the inevitable crash of that wave came over me. Radio stations, magazines, newspapers, SKY news - the interest in what we had done was spreading, but that fiery sense of adventure had been blown out. Back up in Scotland the donations kept on pouring in.
After the end…
What happened after was totally out of my control. Immediately on returning to Scotland I was contacted by several artists kindly wishing to donate their work. Supporters then contacted me asking for replicas of her saddle cloth, a picture book, a book (soon to be written!), an online presentation (hosted by the BHS), canvas prints, the diaries, Irelanda’s shoes and the clothes I had worn! The anniversary of Leo’s death was on 16th September. It reminded me how lucky I was to be able to have done what I had done, and to have done it in the knowledge that Leo’s nature of hope, adventure and wild positivity was the very reason and cause for me even thinking it was ever possible. By the time we reached Land’s End we had raised £32,000. Due to the art and merchandise donated and sold our funding page closed on over £38,752.
