Between July and September of 2025, The Cotswold Explorer Robin Shuckburgh, his right-hand/cameraman Ross and faithful four-legged companion Gizmo undertook a challenge to walk the Cotswold Way from Chipping Campden to Bath. Having very narrowly and shockingly survived sepsis at the start of 2024, Robin was keen to raise funds and awareness to support the work of Sepsis Research FEAT.
He wasn’t 100% sure he would be up to the challenge though.
The team arrived triumphant at Bath Abbey on World Sepsis Day, 13th September 2025, 105 miles and £7,000 of fundraising later. Coincidentally and appropriately this also marked the ninth anniversary of their very popular Cotswold Explorer channel on YouTube.
There is no one better to tell his story than Robin himself, which he does very poignantly here.
I am going to tell you why it is that a slightly frail, 77-year-old, ex wine merchant decided to walk the Cotswold Way in aid of research into this sepsis thing. Something which no one really understands but which kills, as far as we know, at least 50,000 people every year in the UK alone and could be coming for any one of you at any time.
In November 2023, 20 odd months ago, having just finished recording a dub for an episode of the Cotswold Explorer channel, I lay down for a rest, telling my wife I felt just a little groggy.
Half an hour later my son, who lives nearby, dropped in to say hello. Hearing I wasn’t well he came upstairs to see me and as he entered the room I sat up, smiling, to greet him; within seconds, I degenerated into a gibbering, trembling, sweating old man, incapable of stringing two words together. I had gone from groggy to desperate in 40 seconds.
Level-headed as always, dear Jake started making calls. 111 were great. They did ask to speak to me but my grunts and chattering teeth just confirmed my son’s description and they immediately arranged an ambulance.
So, my son was the first person that day to save my life.
The ambulance was there quickly. They started taking vital signs. Temperature 41.5 degrees. WHAT!! Blood pressure- no reading…..tried a urine sample, couldn’t give one, (even in my befuddled state I realised I hadn’t peed for a long while)
That was the first time I heard the word sepsis. It meant nothing to me really. We used to call it “Septicaemia”, I thought. They learned to deal with that in the first world war. I had no idea how incredibly lucky I was that my ambulance team recognised the symptoms so quickly.
Blue lights and sirens for 30 minutes to the Churchill Hospital, part of the Oxford University Hospital Trust.
The ambulance crew were the second people that day to save my life.
Two and a half weeks on fluids, intravenous antibiotics and some really weird biopsies and they had the roaring sepsis under control and had identified the initial infection, an infected Gall Bladder. Those doctors and nurses saved my life.
OK, so I had ignored an uncomfortable pain in my back for a few months. Part of it was during COVID, and anyway, who the hell bothers the doctor with a back pain?!
I really wish I had.
I was eventually sent home to await a recall for a Gall-bladder removal op. Usually, these days, that’s a keyhole surgery thing – in and out in a day.
Not quite.
Three weeks later, I was called back to the hospital. I was told by my terrific surgeon that it wasn’t going to be easy, I had left the blasted thing so long it was going to be tricky to remove. Open surgery was likely, but he would see if keyhole was possible first. I wasn’t even nervous. I was in the very best of hands.
A few hours later I sent a text message to my wife: ‘It’s all gone well. Should be home by Friday (just a few days before Christmas). Phew. It’s all over.’
Not quite.
Less than an hour later I went, once again, into septic shock. I had developed an internal bile leak, and my immune system had decided that its best bet was to kill me.
That is what sepsis does. It’s your own immune system deciding that, in order to fight a small infection, anywhere at all in your body, it should shut down all your vital organs. Your heart, your liver, your lungs, your kidneys, everything. That’s what sepsis does for its living. It comprehensively removes yours.
At this stage my wife gets a call to say I probably won’t make it through the night, and in the unlikely event that I did I would almost certainly be on dialysis for the rest of my, very limited, life.
But what neither she, nor either of my children who had gathered to support her that night knew, was that the man she was talking to was the next person in this saga to save my life.
By an utterly extraordinary stroke of good fortune, the surgeon on duty in the operating theatre in the middle of that dark night was a man called Mr Michael Silva and he is one of the greatest pancreatic surgeons in the entire world. It would be quite possible to argue that there are only a handful of people on this planet who could have pulled me through, and he is one of them. I have absolutely no idea why I deserved such a gift.
But now, of course, come the legions on whom we rely when we are vulnerable. Lots and lots of doctors, nurses and others.
After just shy of a fortnight in intensive care, unconscious and kept alive with every machine imaginable, with great effort I opened my eyes to find myself being washed. Utterly and completely immobile except for my heavy eyelids, I saw someone cleaning me with an obvious, indeed palpable, respect for my vulnerability. Instantly I felt a sense of peace. I knew I would survive and that I was in the very best of hands. He saved my life.
My wife – with her constant love and determination that I should survive to return to her side – she saved my life.
The reassuring presence of my daughter, who pinned pictures of my entire family on the wall opposite my bed to remind me why life is so valuable and tried, on an hourly basis to reassure me that the terrifying hallucinations and fantasies brought on by the drugs I was taking weren’t real (I never believed her by the way) – she saved my life,
The incredible nursing care – people who put up with things most of us would simply refuse to contemplate, wonderful people who encourage an old man like me to get going again – they saved my life.
And I was able, after a few weeks, to go home. Dragging all kinds of pipes and things from my anatomy and only capable of walking five paces without a walking frame and ten with one, I came home to the embrace of my family and started my recovery.
I had gone from a bit groggy to the very edge of oblivion and back in a matter of a few weeks.
That was just 18 months ago and I have now reached the end of a 105 mile walk over some of the steepest terrain southern England has to offer. Somewhere or other there is a miracle in this story, and it slightly spooks me out.
I think perhaps that miracle lies with our viewers. Your response to our efforts has been nothing short of miraculous. We had expected to make a few hundred pounds towards the invaluable work done by Sepsis Research FEAT and set ourselves a target of £500. We have now reached just shy of £7,000. It’s very hard to express how grateful we are. Please, if you haven’t yet done so, drop a couple of pounds or dollars onto our JustGiving page.
Most of all please continue to watch our films and write the lovely messages which make Ross and me so happy to continue our travels in the Cotswolds.
Charity comment:
Robin’s epic walk, just 18 months after suffering from septic shock, is inspirational. He describes himself as frail but is clearly anything but and has shown great determination, resilience and wonderful spirit in undertaking not just this walk and his brilliant fundraising but also in the work that he does to bring his love of the Cotswolds and knowledge of its history to millions of viewers every year.
His story highlights many themes.
Firstly that sepsis can strike anyone, at any time, and progress with terrifying speed. And as a result, the vital importance of heeding warning signs and not being afraid to seek help, to ensure early recognition of sepsis symptoms and prompt medical intervention.
And finally, the power of the care and support he received from an entire community of individuals.
Sepsis Research FEAT is very grateful indeed to Robin for choosing to support its work in this way and is honoured to have been a part of his journey.
You can click here to find information about general symptoms of sepsis. And to undertake your own fundraising event or take part in an organised challenge event to raise funds for sepsis research and awareness click on the links above.