Home

This journey of ours has been full of highs and lows – and I don’t just mean the hills and valleys, of which there were also plenty. But disembarking from the ferry and setting foot on the ground in Rosslare, Co. Wexford at four o’clock in the morning ... well that was definitely a moment to savour. Followed by a handful of fellow foot-passengers, we made our way sleepily through the grey and winding, strip-lit, tunnel of a gangway to border control, where we were greeted with a warm handshake from Garda Arthur O’Connor, who had been briefed about our arrival. “You lads must be the walkers”, he said confidently, his hand outstretched. And I suppose he was right: We were indeed the walkers, for we had taken over three million steps to transport us from south-east Austria, across the Alps, up through southern Germany and France, across England and Wales, and, here we were, about to take our first step onto Irish soil ... or tarmac ... or concrete ... or whatever. I don’t think either of us were tempted to kneel down and kiss the ground, but there was certainly a sense of relief and of having accomplished something big.

Significant as this was, I had to be careful not to start thinking that the job was already done: There was after all the small matter of the whole eastern side of Ireland. Getting close to the finish line can be a huge distraction from the task at hand. Stay focused, I had to tell myself, just take one day at a time, one step at a time (making sure it’s in the right direction of course) and the goal will take care of itself.

Besides, there were still enough moments to relish along the way. That evening, for instance, we headed out to the local hotel bar to reacquaint ourselves with another Arthur. You know the one I’m talking about. And what a pleasant reunion that turned out to be.

The next day, with a faint buzzing in our heads we went north towards Dublin, where Sepp would leave me to return home. The concept of home has obviously been a big part of the Long Walk Home. Out on the road, there have been many revelations, but one thing I’m certain I knew all along: The home I am heading to in Keady is just one of many. Look the word up in the dictionary and you will see quite a few definitions, but none of them say it’s the place where you are needed and loved, where you love and care for the ones around you. While crossing through Wales, I became a grandfather to a little girl out in Austria. I will be needed there. By the time I reach home, I will have been on the road for 86 days – it is time to go home.