Martin’s Blog: How to Train an Idiot

My One With Two Legs and I have been having rest in Dumfries and Galloway for the past two weeks. During this time I, Martin The Donkey (dear readers please note that the T and D are capitalised for I am not merely a donkey but The Donkey), thought I would write a little piece telling of my experiences from our adventure. I have read My One With Two Leg’s account so far and have taken umbrage at some of what he has written. Thus, it is now necessary, nay vital, for me to give a more accurately nuanced perspective.

My Stay at the Inchnadamph Hotel

Firstly, while My One With Two Legs means well and in many ways is very sweet, he is in fact a total idiot. Because he is a halfwit, it has fallen to me to teach him. This can be a slow and painful process (especially for him), and one that he resists much of the time, falsely believing that he is charge. While this schooling is somewhat burdensome and certainly below me, given he has such small ears what does one expect? As we all know, virtue and intelligence are clearly linked to ear size, and I, Martin The Donkey have the biggest ears of all.

Having a Break in the Land of Two-Leggers’ Stables

I want to address the issue of stubbornness. From my observations of two-legged behaviour, it has become apparent that they think we long ears are bloody minded and malevolent, seeking at all times to derail their two-legged plans. This could not be further from the truth. The fact is that like My One With Two Legs, all two-leggers are stupid (though he is particularly so). It’s not that we are simply unwilling to do things, but we are not likely to do something dangerous and are definitely not going to blindly follow those small eared morons as they blunder about.

For example, My One With Two Legs talked about my not wanting to walk across soft ground. It was here that I had to begin teaching the fool about walking. If you had as muscular and perfect a physique as mine (which I know you all aspire to), would you risk it? Thus, it was necessary for me to show him how to do this properly. This is deeply frustrating for me, as I want to be able to walk my two-legger and enjoy a nice time in the countryside, not waste my time training the simpleton. However, when you work with small ears these trials are part and parcel of the affair. I am a big believer in tough love and learning through mistakes, so would allow him to make some initial gaffes. However, eventually I would arrive at a point where I could stomach his ineptitude no more.

Lunch Stop in Highlands

Like all the best teachers, I believe it is best to let your student work out the answer rather than tell them it. When we encountered the sort of ground no erudite donkey would cross I would simply stop, allowing My One With Two Legs time to find the answer. This he did not like at all. He would get angry, he would try to pull me across, he would say things to me that were I not a better bred and patient donkey I would take strong exception to. However, the two-leggers are but foals and not worth crediting with an emotional response, so I would fix him with a withering look. Once I had brought him to the truth, that he is an imbecile, I would then take charge and show him the proper way to do things.

This did not mean that I was completely happy with his progress. At the beginning of our travels I noticed that three times a day he would fill a round object, similar to what I drink from, and then proceed to graze from it. At first I paid this no mind, for what interest do I have in two legged affairs? However, after a time I became aware of delicious smells emanating from this object, ones far more interesting than those of my food that covers the ground. As I would come to investigate the contents of his grazing, he’d push me away. He would begin by pushing my head away with one of his strange, skinny front hooves. However, I am not easily deterred, and he would eventually have to hold me away with one of his hind legs while grazing with his front ones. The impertinence! This was not only rude beyond belief in itself but considering that I had kindly offered to carry his feed he could at least share the grazing. Sadly, while he is coming on well, I feel this a battle I’ll have to give up on as it would seem that two-leggers can also be “stubborn” (though I fail to see the danger in sharing the grazing)!

My One with Two Leg’s Stable

In order for me to enjoy walking My One With Two Legs it was crystal clear that I would have to establish a good daily routine for him. I soon became aware that two-leggers are inherently lazy and require a large amount of slumber unbroken by grazing. Therefore, I would allow him to sleep for around eight hours each night in a funny little stable that he has to put up and take down on a diurnal basis. As the two-leggers are also very weak and puny I very kindly offered to carry this for him as well as his feed. Once he has rested for long enough, I wake him and set him to graze while I eat my breakfast. When he has taken sufficient nourishment I get him to clean me. Being a handsome donkey and one that is much admired by other two-leggers (how could they not???) it is essential for me to appear well turned out and stylish at all times. His first job is to brush me. As the weather has turned warmer I have traded my heavier wardrobe for a cooler suit, more fitting to the climate and walking. This means his ministrations take less time but are still vital. Next, I have my daily pedicure – he cleans all my hooves by brushing the mud and food that has got underneath them. Then using a spikey thing he picks out any small stones that get caught in my feet. These can be uncomfortable and the relief when they are gone is very pleasurable. Then, once I am clean and comfortable he dresses me. I have a soft shawl that goes on my back, then he puts on a sort of basket made of the big, tall food. He calls this a “pack saddle”. This has a number of special ropes that go around different parts of my lithe but muscular figure. At first, back at my residence, these proved a trifle uncomfortable, so I was obliged to instruct him to make me some padding. It took him a number of weeks, but eventually he came back with some broadly acceptable strap-covers. Over the course of our journey I have also commanded him to make more of these for my head gear.

Stopping for a Rest

Once this is all in place I put on my backpacks. As I could not possibly expected to wear any off the shelf garments I commissioned a bespoke pair from my tailor, the very talented Leony Mayhew. These are necessary because, as I indicated earlier, the two-leggers are not very strong. So, as I am magnanimous in the extreme I have elected to carry his things. Given I am sturdily built and have a fine athletic frame this is no big issue for me, provided the idiot balances all our equipment properly. I have supplied him with a useful weight monitoring device, but as you can imagine he too frequently fails in this elementary task.

The Land of Two-Leggers’ Stables

With these lessons beginning to take hold, My One With Two Legs became easier to manage and I think he enjoyed our travels more, following my stern, but benevolent guidance. As a result our journey is now very pleasurable. I take My One With Two Legs to some beautiful places. In the first part of our adventure I lead (I actually let him go in front, so as to make him think that he is doing this of his own free will) us across moors, hills and rivers. When we arrive at a particularly interesting view I order My One With Two Legs to stop so that I can absorb this at my leisure. He seems to enjoy this too. Later on, the walking got less up and downy and we travelled through a large area of that weird two-leggers stabling; there were lots of small noisy carriages mysteriously moving along without any heroic four-leggers pulling them. Here the landscape was less interesting but there were many more of my adoring public. I had purposefully designed the walk so there was plenty of opportunity for the two-leggers to bask in my glory.

My Adoring Public

Every so often we encounter ones like me, and they come in two types: ones with ears like mine and ones with smaller ears. Of the former, though their ears are of an acceptable size they have pretensions of equality to me. However, as we all know, I am The Donkey so they are essentially inferior and I pay no attention to them. As for the latter, while their ears are ridiculously small (though not as small as My One With Two Legs) they have a certain dignity that I can relate to. I have known many of these ones like me with small ears and very much enjoy their company. When we encounter them I am very keen to converse, often call out and make My One With Two Legs facilitate introductions. I am often reluctant to move on after a chat but the two-leggers need their exercise.

Ones Like Me with Small Ears (Image credited to Daniel Nash)

My diet is excellent, and, in many places, food lies on the ground. Occasionally we come across delicacies like the spiky food with purple flowers. These require a gentle approach at first: I carefully get the flowers with the side of my mouth, but once bitten off I can chew at ease. I occasionally request the long orange rods from My One With Two Legs which I love. Similarly, I sometimes command him to present me with the red, round sweet things. These are too big to fit in my mouth at once, so I instruct him to hold them and I eat in bites. Given my fame, many of the other two-leggers we encounter know of my tastes and also bring me tribute in form of the orange rods and the round sweet ones.

Receiving Tribute from a Small Two-Legger

The only downsides to our adventure are the little biters and the drink that falls from the sky. For the sky drink I sent My One With Two Legs to buy (from my expense account) an extremely fashionable jacket. This jacket is both warm and keeps the drink from getting into my fur. Unlike the ones like me with small ears, when the drink gets in my fur it takes a long time to get out. This means that the moment the drink begins to fall from the sky I order My One With Two Legs to adorn me in my jacket. Furthermore, I made him buy one that was big enough to cover my bags so that his things did not get wet when we’re walking. I am sure I don’t need to highlight it, but given my readers have small ears I will: observe my benevolence and magnanimity.

An Acceptable Bed for the Night

The little biters are more of an issue. They come in various forms. Some bite you once and hold on tight. Others are bigger and like to live near to big bits of drink. These are the most painful but are not very common. The worst, and they really are the worst, are the tiny ones. In the places with the hills and food everywhere they come out at night and are relentless. They drive me mad. They get under my jacket, up my nose, and into my fur. Most of the time we sleep in places where I can walk around and roll, and this makes it easier to escape from them. However, occasionally we sleep where I cannot get away. When this happens, I ask My One With Two Legs to cover me with something that is like drink but tastes horrible. This stuff discourages the tiny biters but not completely. After nobly enduring their torments for a few nights I finally had to tell My One With Two Legs to get me a net for my head. This is like the one he wears, but has special tubes for my beautiful, long ears. Happily, as our journey goes on the little biters become less and less common.

Prepared for a Night of Tiny Biters

As the time goes by and the training takes effect I find myself liking My One With Two Legs more and more. At the start of his employment I very much viewed him as an indentured servant – someone who had job to perform for a specific purpose and a set amount of time. We had a standoffish relationship of master and slave. However, we have gotten to know each other better an affectionate bond has formed between us. As this level of trust has grown I have encouraged him to be more familiar. I have discovered that he really likes to hold my chin in his weird front hooves or in the bend in front legs. When he does this he also likes to then stroke my cheeks with his free hoof. While this may seem a touch debasing, allowing so inferior and degraded an animal this level intimacy with my flawless figure I have actually found it pleasurable (somewhat to my disgust). When I send him away to rest for a few days I begin to miss him. It is then very gratifying when he returns and comes directly to me. As I reflect on his character I have come to agree with my confederate Modestine (an admirable donkey who kept a small eared two-legger called Robert Louis-Stevenson under her benevolent despotism): his ears are those of his species, but his virtues are his own. When we finish our walk, I think I’ll keep him.

Bonding with My One With Two Legs (Image credited to Daniel Nash)

 

Lighthouse to Lighthouse: Walking Western Britain with Martin the Donkey

This summer, I am going to walk the length of Western Britain with Martin the Donkey. Our route will take us from Cape Wrath on Scotland’s North Coast to the Isle of Portland on England’s South Coast. This 700+ mile walk will begin and end at lighthouses: starting at Cape Wrath Lighthouse and finishing at Portland Bill Lighthouse

The Route through Western Britain

As you may know from my series Donkey Diaries on this blog, I have been working with Alwood Donkeys for the past six months to learn about donkey care, training and management. I have also become a member of the Donkey Breed Society and have been getting advice from fellow members on the trials and tribulations of donkey packing (the use of donkeys as pack animals). The training has progressed well since changing donkeys from Will to Martin. Martin has proved himself to be a most excellent donkey: bold, friendly and not a inch of aggression or violence in him. Recently Martin and I have been on some walks around the North West including Tebay, Crosby Beach and Delamere Forest. Martin is a people magnet, with members of the public constantly being drawn to him to give him pets and ask about what we’re up to.

Meeting Martin’s Adoring Public at Crosby Beach

Following on from my walk from Liverpool to Stranraer last September, I am keen to explore whether having Martin to accompany me will open us up to more chance encounters and the kinds of experiences I have had when rough travelling abroad. My experience of walking through the North West of England and the South West of Scotland was that alone I was Not Alien Enough to stand out amongst my fellow Brits. From what I have encountered on our local walks I believe that Martin will help facilitate meeting people and generating support.

In terms of the walk itself, Martin and I will be departing from Cape Wrath Lighthouse on the 24th of May. We will be walking south, loosely following the Cape Wrath Trail and passing through Ullapool, Kinlochewe, Ratagan, Glenfinnan, Fort William and then Oban. Near Oban, we will then spend two weeks on Easdale Island where I will be delivering a series of residential photography courses from the 23rd of June to the 7th of July.

From Easdale we will the continue our way south towards Glasgow. En route we will be meeting with a group of young people from the Blackhill area of Glasgow to discuss ideas around walking and slow travel. From these discussions, the young people will then go on to design their own walks in Glasgow that will be presented at Glasgow Underline. Martin and I will rejoin the group in Glasgow around early August to reflect on these walks as part of Underline’s series of events and walks. Underline is a ‘Collaborative Urbanism’ project lead by Dan Dubowitz as part of Glasgow City Council’s ‘Avenues’ Programme. This project will connect people with less familiar parts of the city centre and involve them in establishing new ways of using public space that they would like to see happening in their city. Significantly it will start to activate these new public areas before construction work begins on building the new Avenues through them.

From Glasgow we will head towards England, trying to remain west of the M74. Once we cross the border near Carlisle we walk through the North West of England, broadly following the route of the M6. This route will take us between Manchester and Liverpool and then continue along the English/Welsh border towards Bristol. The final leg of our journey will take us down through Somerset and Dorset, eventually arriving at Portland Bill Lighthouse, south of Weymouth.

Donkey Packing in Delamere Forest

As part of this walk I am aiming to raise £2000 for homeless charity Centrepoint. Centrepoint’s work centres on supporting homeless young people throughout the UK. Over the past few years I have seen increasing numbers of homeless people in Liverpool where I live. While all homeless people are vulnerable, young people are especially so. As such, I am keen to raise money for Centrepoint so that they can continue their excellent work helping at risk young people. If you would like to donate to Centrepoint, you can do so on my Just Giving page:  https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/lighthouse-to-lighthouse

Martin and I will be following footpaths, bridle ways, canal tow paths and small roads. For accommodation we will be camping and staying in horse friendly bed and breakfasts where available. If you can offer me a bed/sofa/shower/garden to camp in or Martin a field/stable/grazing/carrot/bag of hay or know someone who might, please message me on Facebook (www.facebook.com/AdamsWalks), Instagram (@adamswalks), Twitter (@adamswalks), phone me on 07906654155 or email at adam@adamleephotography.com

I am also looking for company along the way. If you would be up for a day or two walking with me and Martin please get in touch and also feel free to share this post and contact details with anyone you think might be interested.

Donkey Diaries Part 2: A Completely Different Beast

I am in love. My love has large brown eyes and long lashes. My love has long, elegant legs. My love is a brunette (very much my “type”) and, as my love is mature, has some flecks of grey. My love is a donkey called Martin. 

In the last edition of Donkey Diaries I talked about the struggles I was having with Will and how Tom, the owner of Alwood Donkeys and my mentor on this equine journey, had suggested a change of donkey to one that was “a bit of a loner”.

Martin

The loner turned out to a 7 year old donkey. Tom informed me that this donkey would be ideal for my purposes as it shuns the company of other donkeys so should be happy to walk on its own, unlike Will, who wanted to be with his friends in the field.

Tom and I went to collect the new donkey, who lived in another field close to the farm. En route Tom said that this donkey did not have a name, so I could choose one myself. Being an irreverent person I am drawn to human names for animals: one day I hope to have a dog called Steve. So I set my mind to finding a similar name for this donkey. I was initially drawn Iain; however, I have a very close friend called Iain so I decided that it was perhaps an inappropriate name for a donkey. In the end I settled on Martin. When I told Tom this he said, in his thick Irish accent, that this was “a terrible name for a donkey”. I immediately knew I had made the right choice.

Sonya and Martin at Alwood Donkeys

Martin quickly proved to be an entirely different beast from Will. Where Will was flighty and stubborn Martin is calm and amiable. This tranquility first manifested itself when it came to grooming him. After 6 weeks with Will I had only just got the point where I was able to brush his upper legs. Almost immediately I find myself squatting near Martin’s haunches, vigorously brushing his inner legs and belly. This position places me in direct strike range of a kick, yet Martin has never kicked out, he merely tries to move away from the brush if he does not like it. With Will I had never dared to try this. Similarly, as my confidence with Martin grows I find I am able to pick his hooves. Though I had done this many years before when I used to ride horses, the thought of going anywhere near Will‘s feet was terrifying, let alone trying to pick one up. Yet Martin proves himself to be amenable to this as well. Again, when he doesn’t like it, he votes with his feet and tries to walk away, but I am confident enough to try to hold him in place without fear of reprisals.

Martin having his hooves picked

This confidence and trust has extended to the walking as well. On the whole, Martin is happy to walk. His pace can be slow in places but he rarely stops. When he does waves of fear and self doubt wash over me – is this beginning of the stop starting I had with Will? Is there something about me that donkeys don’t like? Does this lead them to eventually stop cooperating? However, on these few occasions, Martin is fairly easy to cajole. Furthermore, as he has no violence in him, I am not scared to get behind him and shoo him on. Happily these instances are infrequent and Martin genuinely seems to enjoy getting out and about.

Martin strikes me as a brave donkey. On our first long walk together I wanted to cross a footbridge over a stream. The bridge was no wider than two people stood abreast. Martin was initially reluctant to cross and refused to move forward. However, with some words of encouragement and little coaxing we soon crossed. Similarly, on a road close to the farm, he was spooked by a revving motorbike engine, but did not bolt.

One result of this has been that the training process has sped up. Martin and I have started going on extended walks. Rather than simply walk up and down Upton Park Drive we have been venturing further afield. Our current route takes us along a path that runs parallel to the M53 motorway. At first Martin was nervous of the noise and fast moving cars, particularly when crossing the road bridge over the motorway. Here he would slow his pace or even stop. But as mentioned above, some pulling on the lead and an occasional shoo from behind soon gets him moving.

The path along the M53

The major result of Martin’s nature and the speed of the training is that he is a pleasure to be with. With Will our slow progress and his obstinate nature made me constantly anxious about whether or not we would be able to make this work. It was 8 months until our departure for the Scotland route at the point our relationship was breaking down and I genuinely did not know if this would be enough time to get him trained. Furthermore, as our progress reversed this was impacting on me emotionally – I felt emasculated and inadequate, as if there really was something wrong with me that the donkeys could sense.

With Martin none of these feelings apply. I love my time with Martin and look forward to it. We are progressing well and I have no doubt that we will be ready by June. These feelings add to my confidence that I am not the natural enemy of the donkey and consequently I feel our bond strengthening.

Martin meeting horses in the yard at Alwood Donkeys

As far as my amateur donkey knowledge extends this increasing bond manifests itself in two ways: firstly, I have never heard Martin bray. Whether the bray is actually an indication of unhappiness or not, compared with Will, this lack would appear to be a positive. Secondly, and to me most indicative, is the act of nuzzling. Often, when Martin and I are stood together (such as when waiting for the green man at a pelican crossing) he will nuzzle me, shoving my chest with his nose. There’s part of me the suspects that he’s really after some more carrots, but even if he is, the fact he is beginning to associate me with a good thing is a good thing.

When I began the process of working with a donkey, it felt like the donkey was a means to an end. As the months have rolled by the donkey has become the end in and of itself. I have begun to think about life as involving donkeys on a permanent basis: should I get a tow-bar for my car so I can buy a horse box trailer? Perhaps, eventually, I need to move to the countryside where I can accommodate Martin in his own field. These feelings are down to Martin and his companionable nature. 

Martin in a stable during a rainstorm

I spent Christmas in London and then went on holiday over New Year. As I lay in bed the night before heading south for the holidays I thought about how much I was going to miss Martin. I reflected on Robert Louis Stevenson’s thoughts on his donkey Modestine and how much these too applied to Martin: “her faults were of her race…; her virtues were her own”.