Walking with Laurie – A Promise Kept

Hello and welcome!

This blog is the beginning of a journey I’ve carried in my heart for a long time. My Name is Elaine Williamson, and I live in Glasgow.  For seventeen years, I was a personal assistant to Desmond McCaffery, a man who changed my life in ways I’m still discovering. Sadly, he died in October 2024 shortly after being diagnosed with motor neuron disease.  

Motor neuron disease (MND) is a rapidly progressing terminal illness which stops signals from the brain from reaching the muscles. This may cause someone to lose the ability to walk, talk, eat, drink, or breathe. The average life expectancy of someone with MND is just 18 months from diagnosis. There is no cure or meaningful treatment.

Caring for Des taught me patience, resilience, humour, and the value of slowing down enough to notice the world. When Des passed away, I promised myself I would do something bold — something that honoured his life and carried his spirit forward, something active, outward-looking and hopeful.

That’s when I came back to an old dream: to follow in the footsteps of Laurie Lee, from the quiet lanes of Slad where his story began, all the way to London — and later across Spain to the Mediterranean, just as he did in As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning. This isn’t just a walk. It’s a way of marking a new chapter, of finding my own rhythm again, and of keeping a promise to myself. But it’s also a journey to raise funds for MND Scotland, whose work supports people living with MND and funds vital research into the disease.

There are currently around 480 people living in Scotland with MND. Someone’s lifetime risk of being diagnosed with MND is 1 in 300. MND Scotland is the only charity in Scotland dedicated to directly supporting people with MND, their families and friends

I’m walking not just for myself, but for everyone living with MND.

When I first read As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning, I was nineteen, the same age Laurie Lee had been when he set out. He left a steady job at the gas board, turned away from the girls who whispered “Stay, marry me,” and chose adventure instead. The book begins in the summer of 1935, Laurie Lee walked out of his Cotswold village with a violin, a makeshift rucksack, a small tin of freshly baked treacle biscuits and barely a penny to his name. He headed south to the sea, slept under the stars, played music for his supper, and later travelled to Spain because he knew how to say in Spanish Can I have some water, please.

The book captured the adventurous spirit of a restless teenager who had chutzpah and romantic notions of being carefree and bohemian.  Whereas I, at nineteen, thought my world was already predetermined: family, job, finding a boyfriend, settling down — all the things Laurie Lee had wanted to escape. But I also longed for travel and adventure.

Now in my sixties, rereading his words, I felt the call I had once ignored. Maybe I could do it. I had the means, and my health was not too bad. Perhaps I could take a deep dive into his world — because mine had grown too small. But this would be more than a journey. It was a chance to fulfil a promise I had made to myself, one I had set aside when I was nineteen.

I began to walk more often, not in Spain yet, but close to home. Short routes, familiar streets, testing my legs, testing myself. These weren’t just walks; they became conversations.

Because some days, I felt Des was beside me. Not just a memory, but a presence.

I confessed my doubts about daring to plan something as audacious as walking nearly a thousand miles across Spain.

And in the rhythm of walking, I could almost hear his reply: “Just go for it.” Des had never been one for overthinking or overplanning. He would have laughed at my worries and waved them aside. And maybe that’s what I needed most — his voice beside me, reminding me not to hesitate, not to let the chance slip by.

Those daily walks became more than training. They were a ritual, a way of clearing my head and carrying Des with me. Walking is a man’s best medicine, said the ancient Greek physician Hippocrates — and I couldn’t agree more.

Once the idea became more real, the planning and researching kept me inspired. I sat at the table with my notebook; scraps of paper spread around me like a puddle, the AA atlas of Spain open, laptop glowing. I began to sketch out the stages of Laurie Lee’s walk: Slad to London, Vigo to Zamora, Segovia, Toledo, Madrid, Córdoba, Cádiz, ending in Almuñécar— the names themselves felt like an invitation.

I also bought a picture of his route, framed it, hung it on the wall, and studied it often. I traced rivers and mountain passes with my finger, imagined the dusty soil beneath my feet, saw the olive groves and wheat fields, the whitewashed villages Laurie Lee had so poetically described.

Ten to fifteen miles a day, I told myself. Manageable. Enough to let me linger in the places, breathe them in, write them down or sketch them.

I planned for autumn when the heat eased, when the light lingered long into the evening, when the roads wouldn’t burn the soles of my feet. Summer in Spain can be merciless. Laurie Lee called the Spanish sun a “brass-taloned lion.” I understood his warning and respected it.

Some days, the planning overwhelmed me. Where would I sleep? What if my health failed halfway? What if I got lost or worse, couldn’t manage the loneliness? I was sixty-three years old. What was I thinking?

And then I’d hear Des in my head: “Don’t waste time worrying. Just get moving. You’ll figure it out on the way. Remember the kindness of strangers, which Spain is famous for.

Laurie Lee had walked into the Spanish Civil War in 1936. My battle in 2026 would be with myself.

So I planned. I designed spreadsheets and checklists, plotted routes linking to the Caminos, and worked out distances and costs. I learned Spanish, how to use GPS, how to read maps, and worked with a Personal Trainer to get fit.

It was all doable. I was no longer fearful. I had already come through too much.

Life was not fated; it was meant to be lived. And no matter what happened along the way, the world would open up, and I could handle it. I was ready to walk out.

If you’ve ever held onto a dream for years or wondered if it’s too late to do something big, I hope you’ll find something here that encourages you. This blog is about walking, yes — but it’s also about courage, grief, memory, and the joy of saying yes to life.

I’d love for you to join me on this adventure.

See you on the trail, Elaine

Walking Through Spain: Following Laurie Lee’s Footsteps for Motor Neuron Disease

The Journey

In August this year, I’ll be walking through Spain with Laurie Lee’s book as my guide. I plan to use the book as a pilgrimage to every location he mentions, to experience the Spain he fell in love with, and to also find what remains of that world and to discover what has changed. I want to walk the same dusty roads, sit in village squares at siesta time, and see if the generosity and spirit he encountered still exists in modern Spain.

Lee travelled in an age before smartphones, before package holidays transformed the Spanish coast, before the country became the economic powerhouse it is today. But his Spain—the inland villages, the harsh Castilian plain, might still be there, waiting to be discovered by those willing to slow down and walk.

Once I’m on the road in August, you’ll get regular updates from the trail, the villages, the people, and the unexpected moments that make any walking journey memorable. I’ll compare my experiences with Lee’s observations to discover whether his romantic Spain survives in the 21st century.

Join the Journey

Whether you’re a fan of Laurie Lee’s writing, passionate about Spain, interested in long-distance walking, or committed to the fight against MND, I hope you’ll follow along. This blog will be a space for reflection, discovery, and connection.

And if you’re able to support the cause, every donation to MND Scotland brings us closer to a world without motor neuron disease.

The road stretches ahead. The adventure begins here.

Why This Matters

This journey is about more than just retracing literary footsteps. I’m walking to raise money for MND Scotland, which funds research into Motor Neurone Disease (MND)

and supports those living with this devastating condition. Every mile I walk, every village I pass through, will be in support of that vital work.

Motor neuron disease (MND) is a rapidly progressing terminal illness which stops signals from the brain from reaching the muscles. This may cause someone to lose the ability to walk, talk, eat, drink, or breathe.

What to Expect from This Blog

Over the coming months, as I prepare for the walk, I’ll be sharing my preparations and journey in real time, sharing reflections from the road, Laurie Lee’s words, and the realities of long-distance walking later in life.

• Planning updates: Route research, training progress, and the logistics of walking across Spain
• Laurie Lee reflections: Passages from his book that inspire the journey, and what they tell us about Spain then and now
• Spanish culture and history: The context that shaped the country Lee encountered and the Spain I’ll be walking through
• Fundraising updates: How the campaign is progressing and ways you can support MND Scotland. Along the way, encouraging readers to support research and services for people living with MND and their families
• This blog will be a place to share my preparations, thoughts, and experiences along the way. I’ll document the landscapes, the people I meet, and the challenges of the road. I also plan to launch a podcast alongside the blog, capturing the sounds and stories of this journey.
• For now, I’m preparing—choosing the right gear, planning my route, and making sure I’m ready for the miles ahead. If you’re interested in travel, walking, or the magic of Laurie Lee’s words, I hope you’ll join me on this adventure.
• Let the journey begin!