James Holmes - Audiobook- Biography
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
James Holmes. Narrator. This is from the salt Path by rain or win. I was hiding under the stairs when I decided to wall. In that moment, I hadn't carefully considered walking 630 miles with a Rozic on my back. I hadn't thought about how I could afford to do it, or that I'd be wild camping for nearly 100 nights or what I do afterwards. I hadn't told my partner of 32 years that she was coming with me on Lee Minutes earlier, hiding under the stairs had seemed a good option. The men and black began hammering on the door at 9 a.m. but we weren't ready. We weren't ready to let go. I needed more time. Just another hour, another week, another lifetime. There would never be enough time, so I crouched under the stairs like a scared mouse, like a naughty child waiting to be found. The sheriff moved to the back of the house, banging on the windows, trying all the catch is looking for a way in. I could hear one of them climbing on the garden bench, pushing it the kitchen skylight, shouting. It was then that I spotted the book in a packing box. I'd read 500 mile walks in my twenties, the story of a man who walked the southwest coast path with his doll Life had picked up every piece of ammunition possible and hurled it at me full force in what had been three years of endless battle. I was exhausted with anger. I could just walk. It was a ridiculous thing to say, but I said it anyway. Walk. Yeah, just walk. It was just a coastal path, after all. It couldn't be that hard, and I could walk slowly, put one foot in front of the other and just follow the map. I desperately needed a map, something to show me the way, So why not? It couldn't be that difficult, but we'd already defended ourselves against lawsuits, judges and highly paid attorneys. So why not? Because I lost lost the case and lost the house. I reached out my hand to lift the book from its box and looked at the cover 500 mile walks. It seems such an idyllic prospect. I didn't realize then that the southwest coast path was relentless, that it would mean climbing the equivalent of Mount Everest. Nearly four times walking 630 miles on a path. Often no more than a foot wide sleeping, wild, living wild, working our way through every painful action that had brought us here to this moment. Hiding. I just knew I should walk. And now I had no choice. I had reached out my hand towards the box, and now they knew we were in the house. They'd seen me. There was no way back. I had to go as I crawled from the darkness beneath the stairs.