The Jersey Coastal Path - August 15th-18th 2016
Sean Bond, Mark Jones, Jon Gilson, Rich Salt, Ken Hodgkinson, Alison
Bond, Mike Riley, Sarah Austin, Sandra Brooks, Jim Eason
Terry Jones, Gordon Darlington, Jane Salt, Netty Salt, Ann Baxter, Dave
Swarbrook
Route Map. 48.4 miles over 4 days. Start and finish in St Helier.
DAY 1 -
St Helier to La Pulente (9.5 miles)
It's customary for me to start the walk write up with a description of
the weather that had been experienced up to the week of the walk so here
goes - so far, the summer of 2016 had been shit. It was hard to remember a
summer that had been so dark, dismal and wet so the chances of hitting a
good spell of weather for our annual walk were looking pretty slim.
Fortunately, if we were to endure a continuation of the summer's
grimness, this year's walk was something of a rare treat in that it was
only just under 50 miles in length and we were based in the same hotel
for the entire week so everything was easier from the viewpoint of
effort.
The original 17 had been cut down to 16 as Susan had to pull out for
personal reasons. She'd probably thought that the summer wouldn't change
and that a wet week in Jersey could easily be replaced by a hot week
elsewhere. I was beginning to think she'd done the right thing as the
week before the walk delivered the same perpetual darkness as
experienced throughout the entire summer.
Despite the lack of faith in the weather the coach journey to Liverpool
Airport kicked our mission off. Ken had somehow managed to book the
wrong flights but at least they were to and from Jersey on the correct
dates. Ken's kencentration levels seem to have let him down so he joined
us in St Helier later in the day and arranged to change his return
flight to allow him to make the ongoing return trip on the prebooked
coach. This prompted one of Ken's friends to come up with the following
poem:
"WAITING FOR KEN" by "The Peak Poet"
Our small walking party of fifteen or so
Are over in Jersey and raring to go
We long to go rambling down by the sea
But we're waiting for Ken, where the hell can he be?
I'm sure he was there when we boarded the plane
But just after that, no-one saw him again
Is he locked in the loo with a panic attack?
Has he asked for the pilot to take him straight back?
He probably got on a different flight
And just didn't notice, because it was night
It could be he's landed in Islamic State
Held hostage by ISIS, and waiting his fate
Or over in Rio and having some fun
Taking part in the games which have surely begun
I know he likes running, as straight as an Arrow
Perhaps he's that bastard who legged up Mo Farrah
His bed is unruffled, his breakfast is cold
"We don't think he's coming" his Hotel is told
But all off his friends, on the cliffs you will see
Out looking for Ken, where the hell can he be?
The weather on the morning of the first day was superb. We decided to
take our customary starting photo in Liberation Square (kindly taken by
a tourist girly) and set off through the bustling streets of St Helier
to the beach in St Aubin's Bay.
Traffic issues on the route out of St Helier. The team waited for over
an hour on the traffic island before realising that the little red man that
prevented them from crossing was
in fact
Terry.
It wasn't long before we reached the sea front where we'd remain for a good
2.5 miles. The first few hundred yards had to be walked on the prom but as
the tide went out and the seaweed turned to sand we moved onto the beach and
took in the sun.
On the beach. Gordon shows off his trusty (or is it crusty?) Port Vale
socks.
Alison had decided to wear her shorts but didn't apply any sun cream because
her legs don't burn. This was Alison's decision based on a few days in
Seville where her legs didn't burn during long days of 40c temperatures. Can
you guess what could possibly go wrong readers? Jim had also decided to make
the most of the superb weather by wearing walking trousers. His legs,
apparently, aren't fit for human consumption.
We moved across the sand in order to find firmest parts which seemed to be
found further out to sea but it did make for easier progress.
Looking over the green slime to Elizabeth Castle.
It wasn't long before we reached the beautiful little town of St Aubin. The
weather and setting was so nice that many of the team decided to have an
early walk ice cream - something that hadn't been enjoyed on other walks. I
was beginning to think that this was a sign of the demise of our long
distance walks and that the chances of persuading anyone to take on a 90+
miler in the hills of the frozen north were now so slim that press gangs
would be required.
As the day's walk was an easy 9.5 miler we decided to walk off route and
take a look at St Aubin's fort.
Terry tucks into an ice cream. No rucsac either. This is too easy.
Gordon in ice cream heaven. This particular specimen was just over 7
inches tall.
Ann savours the magic ice cream moment whilst Mike wonders why Gordon is
licking a large plastic ice cream.
St Aubin's fort is now an outward bound centre so you can't actually enter
the building itself. This was a bit of a dissapointment so after a bit of
exploring we headed back to St Aubin in order to see what the next stage of
the walk would bring as we were about to head into more dramatic scenery.
Heading back from St Aubin's fort.
The route climbed out of St Aubin on a warm breezefree road but before too
long we turned left into a wooded area where the shade was enjoyed by all.
Netty, Rich, Jon and Alison (with her sun cream free legs) about to
leave the shade.
Once out of the wood the path headed towards Noirmont where we came across a fantastic collection of German-built command bunkers and observation
towers. This is known as the Batterie Lothringen which is where huge guns were
installed to protect the island from the British (who never actually bothered to see
if the guns worked).
The views off the point were superb so the team spent some time exploring
the various war paraphenalia and looking to the west where Portelet Bay
could now be seen.
Noir Mont tower and the Batterie Lothringen. There's a few red faces
already. Jon's Aryan looks and germanic background made him feel strangely
at home.
The small but popular Portelet Bay saw us losing the height gained from St
Aubin and hitting a fleshpot of a beach. After a few hundred yards of
struggling through deep sand, where we could hear the beach babes thinking
'What the fuck are they doing walking in this heat?, the route decided to
recapture the height lost in a sweaty spectacular fashion.
Portelet Bay. Some of the team are on the beach, the rest can be seen
descending the steps.
The climb up from the bay was a tad sweaty and prompted us to question the
need to descend to the bay in the first place but there were a few rather
fetching bikini clad ladies to be viewed so the effort was well worth it.
Mark grins as I take a photo of Dave's enjoyable ascent from Portelet
Bay.
After a quick drink stop we headed around a scenic granite headland with
great views along the coast. Next was the descent (yes - another one) to
what is probably Jersey's busiest tourist hotspot - St Brelade. An area of
large boulders had to be negotiated before the sandy beach was reached but
we all survived.
The blue sea and golden sands of St Brelade's Bay. Looks like we're
going downhill again though.
After a pleasant walk along the beach we reached the main centre of St
Brelade and decided, for the second time, to treat ourselves to ice cream
and a cold drink. This was tough going. I decided to purchase a couple of
ice cold cans of Coke but after downing one decided that I'd been too greedy
so kept one for later. I was also burping rather loudly.
Ready for the off at St Brelade. Hats at the ready!
Not long after passing the church the route climbed again but the
coastal scenery more than made up for the effort. We climbed high above the
small bay of Beau Port, resisting the opportunity to climb down to it, where
an impressive headland was reached along with a welcome breeze.
Beau Port. Another stunning bay.
Jim fitted his headcam to capture the author ascending one of the many small climbs.
The same Jimcam was used to capture the others on the same climb (including
a thumbs up from Alison).
The route continued along the coast before heading slight inland towards the
island's prison. The prison seemed all rather grim after walking through so
many glorious locations but Jim decided to plot the route ahead by fitting
his Jim head radar....
Jim's head radar fitting.
We were soon back on the coastal path with the next target being the rocky
headland of La Corbiere. We were beginning to spread out as a team as the
heat and climbing began to take its toll. The plan was to hit La Pulente well before
our 5pm pickup time so we could enjoy a beer or three but the slowing pace looked
like this may be a close call.
Beginning to spread out near La Corbiere.
We passed a desalination plant, which was a bit of an eyesore, before
reaching another WW2 German battery on Corbiere itself. The view over to the
lighthouse was stunning...
Corbiere lighthouse in the sun. If the tide was right and time allowed
I'd planned to walk over to the lighthouse but unfortunately, in both cases,
this wasn't possible.
The route now descended from Corbiere on the road towards La Petit Port. The
end of the day's walk was near.
I zoomed off in order to ensure that the pub I'd promised was actually a)
there and b) open. A minor sting in the tail was experienced in that the
route took a snaky path around a small headland before finally dropping into
La Pulente. I raced towards the pub, took off my rucsac and ordered 5 beers
that were to be awarded to the first 5 people that reached the pub. It was
now rather warm outside so the ice cold lager was urgently required to
quench the thirst and signal the end of what had been a superb day's
walking.
La Pulente and St Ouen's Bay. I can see the pub but is it open?
Dave, Sarah, Netty, Jon and Alison enjoying the beer at La Pulente.
The next test was to see if the transport that I'd organised would actually
turn up at 5pm. If I'm honest I was hoping that the coach was delayed so
that an extra beer or two could be enjoyed but the coach did turn up at 5pm as
planned - bugger!
The beers were drank and we boarded the coach for the 20 minute journey to
St Helier. The first day had been fantastic and with the forecast for the
following day looking even better, if that was possible, we were all looking
forward to another great day.
DAY 2 -
La Pulente to Greve de Lecq (10.5 miles)
We jumped on our coach at 9:30am in lovely sunshine. The
coach would take us back to La Pulente where we'd hop straight onto the
beach and hopefully enjoy another great day's coastal walk to Greve de Lecq.
Alison's unburnable legs had actually burnt so she decided that trousers
would replace the shorts worn on the previous day. Sandra, who had also
burnt her legs, decided to smother them in sun cream and continue the walk
in shorts.
We reached La Pulente at around 9:50am and after a quick 'sort out' hit the
huge beach on St Ouen's bay.
Ready for the off at La Pulente. Jane can't wait. Ken had got on the
correct coach.
We had a good 3+ miles of beach walking to enjoy before reaching Le Grand
Etacquerel. It looked a long way off.
The team spreads out along St Ouen's bay.
As had been the case in St Aubin's bay on the previous day we took a
convoluted route over the sands in order to find the firmest sections. There
was no hurry - this was spot on.
Terry had been taking in the rays since arriving in Jersey but today would
give him the chance to return home with a bronzed torso. Readers of a
nervous dispostion are advised to look away now....
Terry decides to strip. The others walk away in disgust.
The sun and sand was bringing out the romantic side of the team.Jim however,
decided to maintain Victorian levels of decency.
Alison's beach signature.
We eventually reached Le Grand Etacquerel and took a quick break. The flat
beach was no more and in front of us lay a sharp uphill section. Dave was
really looking forward to this.
Le grand ascension from Le Grand Etacquerel.
Our experiences from the previous day's climbs meant that we knew that this
climb would be worth it. It was. On reaching the 'summit' we were rewarded
with excellent views back over to La Corbiere and onwards to the north. The
path was excellent and surrounded by purple heather and in the distance was
more WW2 debris.
The first Pighole brigade marches towards the German observation tower.
Corporal Eason, forming the advance party, attacks first as he's wearing leg
protection. Dave, forming the heavy unit division, follows up.
After clearing the German bodies we headed further north with great
cliff views to our left. After passing the race course we began to head east
towards the next point of interest, Grosnez castle and beyond that, La Greve
au Lanchon - yet another superb sandy bay.
The ruins of Grosnez castle.
The path was now surrounded by bracken but the eyes were firmly planted on
the impressive La Greve au Lanchon (or Plemont). It was getting rather warm.
It's all gone green. The bracken infested path to La Greve au Lanchon.
We decided that rather than descend to the beach, eat lunch and then
reascend that we'd continue around the bay and find a suitable lunch spot.
On occasion we were treated to a cooling sea breeze so we hoped that
wherever we lunched, the breeze would be present. Shortly after rounding the
bay we came across an old observation tower so we found a suitable grassy
spot and sat down to enjoy our lunch.
La Greve au Lanchon (or Plemont). Lunch would be taken next to the tower
that can be seen in the distance (centre left).
There was no need to rush our lunch as the day's destination was only 3
miles away. The breeze came and went and all was good. Both the map and the
guide book suggested that the next 3 miles would drop in and out of small
valleys so a bit of descent and ascent was to be 'enjoyed'. Bracken would be
our main companion on the path and for some reason it always seems to make
hot weather feel even hotter. Saying that, no one was complaining. Greve de
Lecq - here we come!
Ann, Mike and Alison enjoying the up on the route to Greve de
Lecq. Alison gives it the thumbs up again.
The map and the guide book were right - there were plenty of ups and downs
to be had so the group spread out again as each of us took on the climbs at
our own pace.
Oh look, we're going down again.
The 'big down' was followed by a 'big up'. The north coast was certainly
more undulating than the south and east coasts so we knew we were in for a
bit of exercise. At the top of one particularly sweaty ascent a spot of
shade was found where the cool sea breeze made a reappearance. This was
enjoyed by all but Sandra was developing a blister which could spell end her
walk and her chance to claim her first gold.
The undulating terrain and extensive plant life on Jersey provides ideal
conditions for Davus Sweaticus. It was originally believed that the species
had drank itself to death many centuries ago but this fine specimen still
survives.
After a few more undulations Greve de Lecq was now just below us. We
descended for the final time and took off our boots outside the first pub we
came across (the Prince of Wales). We had nearly 2 full hours before our 5pm pick up so some of us
decided to watch the beach frolics from the pub's veranda whilst others
walked down to the beach to dip in the sea. It was now very warm so both
options achieved the desired aim.
La Greve de Lecq - very pleasant.
Lager for Gordon. Coffee for Jane.
Something tells me that Sarah, Jon and Mark are enjoying their pints.
Another great day had been enjoyed and the beery beachy ending was perfect.
The following day would see us moving further to the east and more ups and
downs of the north coast. The forecast, yet again, was excellent.
The night's restaurant of choice was the Merchant House where we enjoyed the
pleasant experience of eating outdoors.
Al fresco eating at the Merchant House. Ken's long arms allowed him to
hug Netty.
DAY 3 -
Greve de Lecq to Bouley Bay (11.5 miles)
The latter part of the previous day's walk suggested that
the remaining section of the northern coast would be the toughest part of
the walk. Netty was suffering from blisters so decided to call it a day
whereas Davus Sweaticus decided that, being the last of the species, that
the threat of extinction from further walking was too risky so joined Netty
on the knackered bus.
The coach dropped the rest of us off at Greve de Lecq in stunning weather
which seemed less stunning as we immediately climbed the road out of the
bay.
Road work from Bouley Bay. It seemed warmer than the previous days but
slightly hazy.
The route missed a section of the coast due to the positioning of the
shooting range but the short detour soon saw us rejoin the coastal path and
its many ups and downs.
Rich considers ending it all as the loneliness of walking without Netty
hits home. Fortunately Rich decided against jumping to proclaim that it was
the best day he'd ever had.
The first point of interest along the route was the Devil's Hole which we
came across after a short spell of up and down in the bracken.
On the way to the Devil's Hole. It can be seen just behind the flying
seagull.
A tarmacced path led down to the Devil's Hole. The signs gave the
impression that it was definitely worth the down and up so we all set off to
view this natural wonder. After a short descent we reached the viewing
platform and looking into a big hole - the Devil's Hole. I suppose it was quite impressive but
could have done with the sea smashing against the rocks to give it the
little bit of spice that it needed. Anyway, the views back to where we'd
walked were great so we soaked the views in and climbed back up to the main
coastal path.
Looking west from the Devil's Hole. The path winded its way across the
bracken covered slopes.
The Devil's Hole. Good, but not great.
We were now reaching what seemed to be the hottest point of the week so far. We
headed away from the Devil's Hole to a dry steamy headland and took drinks
in the searing heat.
Team sweaty hit the coast.
The path snaked across the slopes towards Sorel head where the view to
the west was one of an idyllic rocky coastline whereas the view to the east
was one of a great big quarry. The northern tip of Jersey is out of bounds
thanks to the quarry which meant that the route veered inland in order to
miss this massive blot on the landscape.
Team stop at Sorel. Terry's looking glum because he's been told he can't
have any more sweeties.
Once off the road the route passed a mast that we'd been able to see for
quite a few miles. It wasn't the most scenic part of the walk but after a
few hundred yards and a few ups and downs we were back in the company of the
multicoloured heather. Bonne Nuit, our planned lunch stop, was just around
the corner but Jim helped us in finding our exact location by fitting his
Jim's head transmitter....
More jimfoolery.
The quarry, road walking and the mast are now behind us. This is better!
We descended from what was probably the highest point of the island to sea
level at Bonne Nuit bay. This meant that at some point we'd need to reclaim
our height which meant more uphill sweatiness. Never mind - we can climb
anything in any temperature.
Lunch was enjoyed by the harbour in Bonne Nuit but I knew that hard work was
next on the agenda. One of the boat owners couldn't move his boat from the
mud bit Jim helped out with one of his attachments...
Jim's jib sees some action.
Lunch at Bonne Nuit. Oooh, look at those paths going uphill in the
distance.
We left Bonne Nuit and climbed the road out of the bay where we soon came across
signs for the 'Lower Path' and the 'Upper Path'. Jim and I decided to get the
hard work out of the way so chose the upper option. The guide book mentioned that the
car park on the top of the climb sometimes had a snack bar which proved to
be the case so a few of us ordered cold cans of pop and gulped them down to
lower the body temperature. The height lost in the descent to Bonne Nuit had
been regained in spectacular fashion.
The onward route involved more ups and downs but the views made up for the
effort.
Jon somehow manages to smile whilst following a disgracefully naked
Terry. Sandra's not looking too happy in the background - she'll never get a
gold. Never!
The heat was tempered by the return of the breeze on reaching the viewpoint
on La Belle Hougue which was a rather pleasant moment. All that was left for
the day was the walk around the next headland, over to Petit Port and then
on
to our destination - Bouley Bay.
Alison runs away from a pervert on the route to Petit Port.
I didn't realise that the route descended to Petit Port but soon realised
that because of this that we had to climb again before reaching Bouley Bay. Petit Port was a pleasant
little spot with a war memorial and a small stone hut which overlooked the
sea. Sandra was struggling at this point so Jim, being the gentleman that he
is, decided to support Sandra in her epic climb. Sandra was on for her first
gold. This was a big moment.
The route began to climb, as expected, but through a wood which had a slight
cooling effect on the team.
Alison, Rich and Ann power on through the wood.
We reached the top of the bank in our usual dribs and drabs. Nearly there.
Looking down to Petit Port after the climb through the woods.
We all thought that the hard work was over but the narrow path through
deep bracken required a bit of extra effort for a few hundred yards.
Suddenly, the bracken cleared, and there, just
below us, was Bouley Bay and a nice surprise....
Netty and Dave line the beers up for the day's walkers. Brilliant! Rich,
however, is visibly mad at Netty's decision not to walk. Mark wonders if the
5 pints at his end of the table are all his.
Multi-coloured legs after a hot day's walking.
What a difference 6 seconds can make.
Beer = Happiness.
It had been another excellent day with great views and a good old
workout. Netty and Dave's end of walk beers went down a treat so another
beer was enjoyed before the
coach arrived to take us back to St Helier.
Tomorrow would see the final day's walking. Would Netty and Dave make a
return? Would Sandra get her first gold? How many more head attachments has
Jim got?
DAY 4 -
Bouley Bay to St Helier (14.5 miles)
The final day was the longest of the week's walks but with less
ascent. The weather was very warm and overcast but despite this Jim, Alison
and Ann decided to stay with the trousers.
Netty and Dave decided that the day would be too much but Sandra recovered
from the trauma of the previous day to take on her attempt for gold. The
guide book described the first few miles as being a 'rollercoaster' of a
path which was a romantic way of saying that there'd be a lot of ascending
and descending. The word rollercoaster could easily be replaced by
'fuckbastard' or 'sweatshitter'.
We walked up the road for a short distance before turning left onto the
coastal path - which went up.
And we're off
up.
The overcast conditions, for me anyway, wasn't making the uphill sections
any easier. If it's warm I want it to be sunny - my body doesn't work
properly otherwise. Despite the heat the route was enjoyable with views over
the cliffs to the greyness of the sea.
A mean looking bunch of pigholers walk away from the viewpoint
overlooking La Tour de Rozel. Terry's daily application of sun meant that he
was now the same colour as the surface of Mercury.
It wasn't long before we reached the scenic little village of Rozel before
heading inland for a while. I made a minor navigational error at this point
which resulted in us walking an additional kilometere but it was easy road
walking so no harm was done.
The Pig had already eaten enough this week so no need for any more food.
A sharp descent on the road saw us reaching Fliquet where a couple of nice
looking houses grabbed our attention. We were also back on the coast but the
terrain and scenery was now very different with the cliffs and ruggedness
experienced on the previous days replaced by large bays and a rocky
unwalkable coast line.
The descent to Fliquet. Sarah's not sure if she's OK or not.
The breakwater at St Catherine's Bay was now in view and we entertained the
option of walking to its end and back. We didn't entertain it for too long
and decided that the extra distance wasn't worth it. We did however
entertain the idea of another ice cream.
The coastal path now turned to the south. Some of us walked on the road
whilst others walked on the sea wall.
Alison and Gordon walk on top of the sea wall. A fall off the wall would
have hurt somewhat.
A diversion meant that a spot of additional road walking was required to
regain the coast where lunch was taken at a picnic spot overlooking the bay.
The coast was still too rocky to facilitate a decent walking pace so we decided to
stay on paths or roads in order to eat up the miles.
The roads were remarkably quiet due to it being one of the days of the Gorey
fete and before too long Orgueil Castle was in view.
Orgueil Castle. Gorey harbour and its fete is immediately behind.
Gorey was very busy as would expected on fete day in summer but the fete
resulted in us not taking a stroll along the front so on we went.
Jon turns away in disgust at the alcohol ban. No alcohol at any fete is
a fete worse than death.
We walked a few hundred yards away from Gorey and then leapt at the chance
of more beach walking. A fine stretch of sand soon turned into pebbles and we
were then forced back onto the sea wall due to rocky terrain.
Walking on the beach south of Gorey. Fort Henry can be seen in the
distance.
The sun was trying its best to make an appearance as we headed onto the golf
course which wasn't the correct route so we
rejoined the correct path which followed the sea wall for some distance.
Houses now replaced bracken as our guide.
The team negotiate a stretch of sea weed.
On reaching Le Havre de la Rocque we turned to the west and the final march
to St Helier but unfortunately, the rocky nature of the coast meant that we
had to move inland and walk on either the road or pavements. The sea views
were only visible between houses but the firm going meant that we could
maintain a decent pace. The sun was now beating down. They grey skies had
now turned to blue.
Taking a break on the long march to St Helier. What's Gordon pulling his
face at?
After rounding the final point the chimney of St Helier's power station came
into view. We still had a couple of miles to go but the rocky coast turned
into sand so we headed onto the beach for the final time.
Another walk, another gold.
We walked on the beach for just under a mile before turning into the town
and through the tunnel where we headed straight to Liberation Square for our
end of walk team photo. Netty and Dave were waiting for us
with champagne.
The fabulous fourteen compleaters. Sandra basks in the glow of
Terry after gaining her first gold.
The final 5 miles had been the worst part of what had been a fantastic walk
and the general feeling was that if we were ever to walk the Jersey
coastline again we'd walk in the opposite direction and complete the 'worst'
5 miles first.
All of us completed apart from Netty (blisters) and Dave (planned outage).
Terry deserves a special mention for another sterling effort and it's always
nice to see the likes of Ann, Gordon and Ken who, in the early winters of
their lives, continue to show some of the young'uns up.
An extra two days was spent on the island where the sights of the
underground tunnels and the Durrell zoo were enjoyed. As is now usual
practice additional beers and food were enjoyed along with a train ride
along the bay (a bicycle for Alison) and shopping in St Helier. The return
bus trip from the zoo saw us involved in an accident where a van decided to
plough into the side of the bus. Luckily, the police were soon on the
scene...
Jim's police head fitting saves the day.
To celebrate the end of the walk we ate at Manos where huge skewers packed
with various meats were 'eventually' consumed by all. The wine and beer was
consumed in vast amounts which resulted in vast amounts of tomfoolery....
The hanging meat of Manos. Superb! Terry goes all Edvard Munch.
Gordon and Ann play on the little cows.
Alison and Netty go for the big boys. Ken protects his ears from Netty's
whooping.
Sandra and Alison abuse one of the larger cows to the extent that its
ribs stick out.
Sandra had obtained her first gold despite suffering from blisters from day
2 onwards. Jim says he's going to treat her to something but won't tell us
any more. Watch this space!
This had been one of the very best of the walks, maybe the best, and another
couple of days through the scenery of the first three days would have
confirmed it in top spot. It'll be a tough one to beat next year as we'll
probably return to the frozen north and the hills and moorlands that we love
so much. We've enjoyed ourselves this year - this can't go on.
There were very few injuries to speak of which may have been
linked to the shorter overall distance or that the warm weather and dry
underfoot conditions had resulted in no falls. Despite this there's still enough to
create the now legendary injury table....
| Walker |
Blisters |
General apathy |
Drunken
Gout |
1st degree burns |
2nd degree burns |
|
Sean |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Alison |
X |
|
|
|
X |
|
Ann |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Mike |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Dave |
|
X |
|
|
|
|
Gordon |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Ken |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Rich |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Netty |
X |
|
|
|
|
|
Jane |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Terry |
|
|
|
X |
|
|
Sandra |
X |
|
|
|
X |
|
Jim |
|
|
X |
|
|
|
Mark |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Jon |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Sarah |
|
|
|
|
|
