A MARATHON 278-MILE DONKEY TROT FROM ST IVES TO LONDON 'Hey, what's that Freisian donkey doing staked out on your grass?' The cheerful farmer's voice stopped the conversation in the comfortable bar of The White Hart, Bishop's Caundle, where we were enjoying an excellent salad lunch and we became the centre of attention. Our story told, the lifeboat collecting box circulated and returned noticeably heavier. And so it proved to be most of the way from St Ives in Cornwall to Hyde Park Corner in Central London.

To start at the beginning: I was becoming somewhat restless living in the depths of the country with my husband weekend commuting, two boys at boarding school and our seven-year-old daughter at the local school. Having led a very active life as an Army wife I decided I ought to be doing something; as a member of a keen sailing family with strong seafaring connections in St Ives I decided to help raise urgently needed money for the RNLI. The way I would do it came in a moment of inspiration: 1 would undertake a sponsored donkey trot with Sweet William, our four-year-old coloured stallion donkey with a light chaise from Cornwall to London! With a bit of luck I thought I might raise £500 or so and that it would take about a month.

The family, and particularly my husband once the subject had been broached and 'planning' approval given, entered enthusiastically into the scheme. Not knowing where to start I approached our local vet for his opinion, not only of William's general health but on the feasibility of the whole project. He was extremely helpful and we reckoned that 10-15 miles per day was perfectly reasonable for a fit, shod donkey with well-fitting harness and a single seat chaise. The Donkey Breed Society also gave me valuable advice and invited me to attend the DBS Drive In and Assessment at Newquay.

I started training four months before my planned start date, which had to be in May to avoid the heavy traffic which builds up in the holiday season. As my route was inevitably along the general line of the A30, I was most anxious not to create a hazard for other road users, nor to subject William, who has an excellent temperament, to any undue stress. His first ever shoeing took place in January. Our local farrier, Ken Trengrove, made a very light training set and was amazed how well he behaved. I used our large children's cart initially as it was reasonably heavy and therefore ideal for our four to five mile daily jaunts in the early months.

My husband meanwhile was making a very light chaise with rubber shod artillery wheels for the actual journey.

By mid April the organisation was in full swing: heavier sets of shoes made and fitted (I took three sets with me); William and I fully fit; 200 sponsor forms and posters out to all sorts of people and organisations; the local press and television informed; arrangements made for our children's half term; the family car containing back-up food, water, tack, two dogs and my husband all organised and most overnight stops confirmed. The various Police Divisions had been contacted and the RSPCA informed. Eric Williams, public relations, DBS, was now fully in the picture and generously offered every assistance.

May Day dawned bright and clear, Cornwall apparently had the only fine weather in the whole country, and a local farmer, Gordon Moore, drove us to St Ives in his horse box. A cheerful holiday crowd had gathered at the lifeboat house on the quay and collecting boxes were well filled. The Mayor kindly saw me away after a short ceremony and many senior members of the RNLI including chairmen of the various guilds were there in force. Tommy Cocking, St Ives' coxswain, presented me with a huge RNLI flag which was to fly from my whip tied to the back of the chaise thereafter, providing an excellent traffic warning as well as publicity.

Away up the hill past Carbis Bay, trailed by small boys and with encouraging messages ringing in my ears, I suddenly realised that I had started! Lunch was a picnic in a field with friends while William munched the hedgerows. This was the pattern for the next month and very relaxing it proved.

The first week passed quickly. The weather was cold but dry and the A30 lightly trafficked. After one or two incidents—William testing the security of his stable at Zelah, for instance, and climbing on to the windowsill—I reached Five Lanes where my husband was going to join me and act as escort for the remainder of the journey. On average I was receiving £10 per day in the lifeboat box on the chaise; having had good local media coverage, people were most generous and loved to talk.

One of William's shoes was showing signs of wear and I was glad I had arranged for a farrier to call at my cousin's farm near Petrocstowe on our first rest day.

Here William met sheep for the first time and had a marvellous time chasing them like a playful puppy until he realised they could turn quicker than he could. Three huge men turned up with a mobile forge and took immense pains to fit one of the spare sets of shoes correctly.

Again William behaved percontinued on page 103.