Letting Go and Shedding

The theme of release: Harold's abandonment of possessions, comforts and control as the path to freedom.

increasingBearing stren­gth in each eventdecreasing

The Carrier Bag

The Carrier Bag The Weight Of Small Things Harold carries a plastic bag of necessities: plasters, water, biscuits, toiletries. It thumps against his thighs and cuts into his wrists. The Failure Of Planning He has no map, phone or boots, and he is deeply unprepared. The lack of equipment is terrifying and liberating. The First Lesson To walk to Berwick, Harold must shed the fantasy that he can control the journey. The carrier bag is the first thing he carries; later he will carry even less.

The Wind-Up Torch

The Wind-Up Torch The Spreading Shelves Harold begins to give away his supplies: washing powder to a student, a torch to a woman with lost keys, plasters to a child with a bleeding knee, the guidebook to lost German tourists. The Grammar Of Simplicity Each object given away lightens him. He keeps only the gifts for Queenie, the compass, the rucksack and the clothes on his back. The Freedom In Need Letting go of things teaches him to receive from others. The empty hands are the beginning of a new way of being in the world.

The Wallet Sent Home

The Wallet Sent Home A Parcel To Maureen Harold sends Maureen his wallet, watch, debit card and a postcard showing a woolly Cotswold sheep. He tells her he is going to walk without so many things. The Cost Of Freedom He no longer needs money because he trust strangers and hedgehogs, spring water and field margins. The retirement fund, the one sensible resource, is gone. The Simplicity That Sustains Maureen pins the postcard to Rex's map and says softly, Oh Harold. The wallet in the bedside drawer means he has taken the most radical step of the pilgrimage.

Sleeping Rough

Sleeping Rough The Barn And The Woodshed Harold moves from guesthouses to barns, woodsheds, bus shelters and fields. He learns to choose dry places and not to force locks. The Outside Life He washes in streams and public lavatories, eats hedgerow greens and wild mushrooms. The world of houses and cars becomes a memory. The Shedding Of The Self The more he lets go of comfort, the more he enters the present. He is no longer Harold Fry, retired man; he is a shape moving through the land, carrying only the blue tape on his shoes.

The Compass Lost

The Compass Lost The Absent Weight In his Wooler hotel room, Harold realizes Martina's brass compass is missing. He runs back to the phone box, but it is gone. The Fear Of Losing The Essential He fears that in mislaying the compass, he has lost an essential, steadying part of himself. The loss feels as vast as a presence. The Final Letting Go The compass was the last external guide. Now Harold must rely entirely on the road, on the sun, on Maureen's voice in his head, and on the rhythm of his feet. Letting go is complete.

Day one, leaving Kingsbridge

Near Cheltenham, after the barn

Day thirty, from Cheltenham

From Stroud onward

Wooler, the night before the last walk