By Barney Burnham 29-4-07
May 4 2007

The stiffness is starting to ease, the blisters have all been popped – some were so gruesome that they were photographed for posterity! – the boots have been thrown into the furthest corner of the loft, and it’s time to reflect on five tiring, but uplifting, days which will live long in the memories of all those who were lucky enough to experience them.

 

Barney Burnham

We set off from Adams Park at 9.30 last Tuesday morning. It was dull, overcast and drizzly, with the forecasters offering little prospect of much improvement for the rest of the day. In fact, the forecasts for the whole week were telling us to expect a great deal of rain. How wrong they were!

Our first-day guests included Wasps Community Manager Dave Larham, Dean Gray (chairman of that night’s host club, Aylesbury, Bob Fenton (a loyal Shedhead, and good friend of mine) and a group of people from RAF Halton, who immediately presented us with the proceeds of a collection they’d made around the base.

Our first drinks break, somewhere on top of a hill between Wycombe and Princes Risborough , coincided with a call from Tony Vout, better known as Tony the Tiger. He had just run the London Marathon in a tiger suit, to raise money for the Matt Hampson Trust Fund. To his great delight, he had beaten none other than a certain Matthew James Sutherland Dawson – apparently, he used to play rugby!

By lunchtime, some of our number were already suffering from blisters, and the patrons of a pub were treated to the less than appetising spectacle of a group of walkers removing their socks and boots and inspecting the damage to their far from lovely pedal extremities.

Our next port of call was Stoke Mandeville, where we had two scheduled stops. The first was the Combined School, where the head, the daughter of Wasps supporters, arranged for the pupils to come out of class to welcome us and make a donation. To turn the corner and see these youngsters cheering and clapping us was very emotional, and a few furtive tears were shed. As the first to arrive, I tried to claim that the high temperature was what had caused me to rub my eyes.

A few minutes further on is the National Spinal Injuries Centre, where Matt spent 15 months, after his accident. There, we presented Josh Lewsey’s signed shirt for the 2004 Zurich Premiership Final. After I did an interview outside, one of the consultants introduced himself to me and asked me to meet the parents of another injured young rugby player, Daniel James. We went in to see him, and I warned of the dangers of being dragged out to the Woolpack, when Hambo comes to make his promised visit.

We ended the day’s walking in Stone. The pub where we had been due to finish had been turned into a curry house, so we went to a different one, taking about 400 yards off our day’s work!

There was a great turnout at Aylesbury RFC, who were holding a game against RAF Halton – a repeat of their first ever match, 75 years ago. Ian McGeechan, Alex King, James Haskell, Jonny O’Connor and James Brooks all turned up to show their support for the walk, as did our indomitable mascot, Sting. Our RAF walking companions of the day were there, and the Halton team presented us with the proceeds of a whip-round. The evening’s BBQ and raffle takings were also handed over, and we managed to get to bed just after 11 pm – with the fund over a thousand pounds richer.

One casualty to report – Sting had fallen over and knocked his knee on a step, requiring sutures!

The following morning, an obliging lady member of the club turned up to cook breakfast for us, using the first of a series of very welcome food parcels sent by Waitrose, all arranged by the West Ealing branch, who provide the food for our minis.

For the first few hours of the day, we were without David Davies, who had to be back in London, for a meeting with the players. He rejoined us in a pub in the village of Quainton. It had taken us longer than planned to get there, as our map-reading had let us down, and we’d taken a diversion of about one-and-a-half miles, taking us through some fields near Waddesdon Manor. It didn’t seem like much at the time, but we were feeling it by the end of the day!

Much of the proper route had already taken us cross-country, and we were all beginning to appreciate the natural beauty which lies on our doorstep. It had so impressed Dave ‘Blisters’ Larham, the previous day, that he had effectively re-invented himself as a tree-loving Son of Swampy. It was suggested that the main reason for his new-found infatuation had been the fact that it costs nothing to go for a country walk! Joking apart, the feeling of being in the middle of nowhere, able to witness nature at first hand, made us all realise how much urban dwellers are missing.

The upshot of the involuntary diversion was that Day 2 had become the longest stretch of the entire walk, and it was a very tired band that arrived at Chackmore, near Buckingham. We were whisked away to Buckingham RFC, where we were made to feel very much at home. Amongst those waiting for us was Ben O’Halloran, who’d taken on the role of organising the evening. He had in fact driven past us in a country lane, earlier that day, and stopped to ask if one of us was yours truly.

After an excellent supper of Chilli and Jacket Potato, provided free of charge by the club caterer, we enjoyed a very entertaining Quiz Night. The Blistered Soles, as we called ourselves, would have been the runaway winners, were it not for the fact that none of us was by now capable of running. Instead, we were the limpaway winners. Our prize – a box of chocolates – was pounced upon with the alacrity of those Assyrians, who had come down like a wolf on the fold.

At the end of the evening, the newly-elected president made a very touching speech about how much the event had meant to them, before summoning me to present me with a cheque. I had been so affected by his words that, when I saw the amount, I found myself incapable of saying anything but a spluttered ‘Thank You’ before having to do some more urgent eye-rubbing.

In common with all our other hosts, everybody had kept stressing that ‘”We’re only a little club”. League tables may say that, but our view was that they were all giants – a feeling summed up in a few well-chosen words from David Davies. He expressed what we were all feeling – that the British people, despite what we often hear, are absolutely marvellous at helping good causes. He said that they may regard themselves as little clubs, but their hospitality was Premiership class.

I was also moved to meet the mother of a lad who shared a flat with Daniel James, the young player I’d met in Stoke Mandeville. She told me what an impact his injury had had on all who knew him. All his Loughborough team-mates had been in tears, when they rang their parents with the news. I told her about how inspiring an example Matt is to all victims of such injuries.

The following morning, our breakfast was cooked by a team of lovely ladies from the Towcester branch of Waitrose, who had been happy to rise from their beds before 6 a.m., to help us out. Another great gesture.

The first few miles of this day took us through some of the most beautiful countryside of the whole walk, around the grounds of Stowe School, and in to Silverstone. We walked around the edge of the Grand Prix circuit, before crossing the A43 and arriving in the village, where club president Alan Black (Blacky) was waiting to join us. He proved excellent company, treating us to a string of amusing tales from his playing days, as well as some revealing anecdotes from his long years of service for the RFU. He was also very effective at dispersing the many groups of cows that we encountered along the way. Maybe cows are all Geordies, as they responded to his every word, in a way that would have won him top prize on ‘One Man and His Cows’, had such a programme ever existed.

After tea, in a charming little place in Upper Stowe, we embarked on the final stage of the day – the trek down to Weedon Bec, and the walk along the towpath of the Grand Union Canal, to Long Buckby Wharf. The threatened rain had now arrived, and became quite persistent. Luckily, the overhanging trees of the towpath served as an umbrella. These last few miles seemed to go on for ever. Even though it was nice to have several miles which were totally flat, it was disheartening that the mileposts seemed to be far more than a mile apart.

We were probably at our most tired when we arrived at Long Buckby. Welcoming us at the rugby club was chairman Graham Hughes, a man with a wonderful dry wit, and a constant grin on his face. He had told us that they’d cook curry for us. I had expected a typical rugby club curry – nothing flash, but hitting the spot. None of us had been prepared for something as good as the delicious feast that was served up for us, cooked by one of the lady members, of whom more anon.

Graham had arranged a Skittles Night – Skittles, in this instance, being the version of the game which is unique to these parts. It involves setting the skittles on their own table, and tossing blocks of wood at them. The blocks are known as cheeses, because of their shape and size.

I’m afraid I have no idea how we got on, as I was so dog tired that, along with several others, I crashed out in the Committee Lounge, which Graham had kindly set aside for us.
When I got up the following morning, I found him sleeping on a small mattress at the top of the stairs.

Today’s breakfast was cooked by the lady responsible for the previous evening’s superb curry. She told me that she had persuaded her teenage son to come along with a couple of his friends, to take part in the Skittle Night. He had thoroughly enjoyed himself, so he asked her what it had all been about. When she told him about Matt’s injury, and the fact that it could have happened to anyone, he became quite emotional.

Graham presented us with year another four-figure cheque, and we were on our way again, in the welcome company of Kevin and Alison, who’d prepared our route and almost idiot-proof directions (all on waterproof paper!). We were due to be joined by a familiar man with a whistle, Ashley Rowden. He was not at the wharf, when we arrived, so I left him a message, to say that we were setting off. I soon got a return call in which he apologised for his absence, but said that he had a very good excuse. His car was being serviced the previous day, and had rolled off a ramp, ending up as a total write-off. Luckily, nobody was injured, but he had regrettably been forced to rule himself out, as he had to spend the day finding alternative transport to get to Waterloo, where he was refereeing on the Saturday.

I also took a call from Blacky, who was asking how he we all were, and confessing that he’d found it hard to lift himself from the horizontal that morning.

We were joined for the day by a couple from Gloucester, Neil and Julie Darwin, who had risen at the crack of dawn to get to us. Julie had been an international gymnast, who’d suffered a serious spinal injury in training, and was now in a wheelchair. She had read about the walk and made contact with me, requesting that she could join us for a day. Watching the combined efforts of Neil and herself was both touching and inspiring. Much of our route for the day was cross-country – pretty tough territory for wheelchairs. Apart from anything else, there are rather too many stiles. Whenever we reached one, Neil lifted her out of her chair, and carried her to the other side. For one particularly tough stretch of country, he carried her on his back.

Unfortunately, Julie was to have some bad luck – in the shape of two punctures. The first came along the canal towpath. Luckily, it was close to a road, so we were able to contact our back-up team (Steve, Heather and Chris – more of them later) and arrange to drive her in to Rugby, to get a new inner tube.

Things went so smoothly that she was back with us in not much more than an hour. Puncture number two came not much more than an hour after that, as we were making our way along a lane between Crick and Yelvertoft. We were steaming along nicely, when we heard what sounded like a gunshot. It turned out that the new inner tube had exploded. Back to Rugby, where the diagnosis was that the newly-fitted tube had been defective, so a second one was put in, free of charge.

The last few miles of day 4 were very tough, as they were all along roads. You can move quicker than across country, but the hard surface really takes its toll. We were very emotional when we reached the Talbot, in the village of Gilmorton. A quick pint, and we were en route to Lutterworth RFC. During the short journey there, I took a call from Matt’s dad, Phil Hampson, whose spies had already informed him that we’d been spotted quaffing ale!

Matt and Phil were waiting for us, when we reached the rugby club. In true Hambo style, he immediately laid on a jug of beer for us. What a star! For those who had never met him before, this was the moment when the whole purpose of this trek took on more meaning. I think everyone realised very quickly just why so many people are prepared to do things to help this remarkable young man.

Tigers president Roy Jackson was also there, along with Dusty Hare and Matt’s old team-mate Matt Cornwell, who’d benefited from a very lucky bounce to score a try in the first leg of the A League final!

We were also joined by Wasps chaplain David Chawner and Sting (whose real identity will remain a secret!), happily recovered from Tuesday’s injury. Sting was to record a famous Wasps victory – this time in the ‘Roll a pound coin at a one-and-a-half litre whisky bottle’ game. With the benefit of hindsight, the decision to share his winnings (the whisky) with us was not the wisest thing!

Takings from the evening, which included a Hog Roast, a Bouncy Castle (on which I’d have happily slept, a raffle and touch and tag rugby again topped four figures, meaning the four functions en route had amassed nearly £5,500.

The final day was mercifully the shortest. As well as David Chawner and Sting, various friends and young family members joined us, along with, as promised, Tony the Tiger – still purring about beating Matt Dawson in the Marathon!. What the residents of Leicestershire villages must have thought, seeing a Tiger and a Wasp marching past, is hard to imagine. There must have been many who swore to renounce the demon drink for ever!

After a brief detour for a photo call at the Blaby branch of Waitrose, who’d provided the ingredients for the day’s breakfast, we battled on an finally reached Welford Road just after 1 pm. Club officials were waiting to greet us, along with various photographers and a Sky cameraman. We were immediately led to the Members Bar, where a welcome lunch was waiting.

I think we were all very moved by the warmth of the welcome we received. I found it quite emotional to have so many people come up and shake my hand, offering words of thanks. I’m sure I’m not alone in that. The ovation we received, as we made our halftime lap of honour around the pitch, was something I shall never forget.

Wasps lost – but, in the broader scheme of things, it didn’t matter. We’d all experienced a week which had shown all the better aspects of humanity. In making a speech at Lutterworth, I had said that many people had said kind things about us, and that we seen to be doing something special. I told them that we had been a catalyst for a lot of people who would never regard themselves as special to do things which they would not regard as special. Put them all together, and you have something which is very special.

Our walk was made so much easier by the backup provided by Steve, Heather and Chris. They were always there when we needed them, with food and drinks stops. Nothing was too much trouble for them, and they really did help us through.

As well as our daily breakfasts, Waitrose laid on the lunches, so they are owed a huge thank-you. And we’re also indebted to Canterbury, who provided us with shirts, special athletes’ vests and fleeces, ensuring that we stayed as cool or as warm as we wanted to be.

To all those who made us so welcome at Aylesbury, Buckingham, Long Buckby, Lutterworth and Leicester Tigers – a million thanks.

David, Golly, Richard, Neil, Stacy and Vicky – you are all stars. Thank you for joining me in this crazy idea. Next time I start muttering about a walk, take me off and get me so drunk that I forget about it – for the next few months, anyway.


To those who feared that the spirit of rugby would die, once professionalism arrived, I would say just this – you are wrong. The spirit of rugby is alive and well, at all levels of the game.

Finally – the best news of all. Our initial target of £10,000 is turning out to be well wide of the mark, and we are now almost certain to smash the £15,000 mark.

Matt – keep fighting. You’re an inspiration!

Unfortunately, Matt's Trust Fund does not yet have registered charity status, which means it wasn't possible to set up a JustGiving page, for online donations - it also means that donations do not qualify for Gift Aid of 22%. Paypal take a cut from all payments made, so I went for the simple option of setting up a savings account for donations, which can be made by cash, giro credits, or giro transfers.


The account details are:

Name: B.Burnham Walk for Matt
Number: 10158430
Bank code: 16-00-35

For postal donations, the bank is:

Royal Bank of Scotland,
Ealing Branch,
14 High Street,
Ealing Broadway Centre,
London W5 5EB



Please give generously. I know there are many worthy causes, but Matt's is a cause which is very close to home for the entire rugby community. Money given will not only help him - it will help others in the future. The trust is applying for charitable status. Once it gets that, it will be able to help fund research into spinal injuries. Already, stem cell research is making great advances in this field.



If you haven't yet donated, but feel that you would like to support this very worthy rugby cause, any donation will be gratefully received.