The marching day ***with track***

Yesterday (Thursday) was the last walking day. Actually ‘walking day’ is a misnomer, for it really was a marching day. Not the most interesting of days by any means, and spoiled by yet more rain. But with a very satisfying end. Here’s a summary.

First took bus from Carlisle back to Low Hesket; then marched back to Carlisle along the A6 – which is almost dead straight and has a footpath; then collected railway ticket for journey today to Manchester; then marched through Carlisle suburbs and miscellaneous villages to the A7; then marched along this for as far as it has a footpath; then turned off and marched along back roads and, miracle of miracles, a cyclepath, to Longtown; then stopped briefly at the Graham Arms for tea and a sticky bun; finally marched out to the Scottish border along the A7, this time with no footpath and in the sometimes pouring rain.

Those final few kilometres were most unpleasant. I was conscious all the time that I’d surely miss the bus to return me to Carlisle. That would mean standing in the rain and cold for another hour. Luck was on my side, however, as the bus was running about five minutes late. I just had time to photograph the Scottish and the English border signs (and the old toll house, where the Scots Dyke comes to the road) when along it came. Another furious wave to the driver, who stopped and picked me up. The walk was over.

Welcome to Scotland! Looking onward up the A7 north of Scots Dyke

Welcome to England! Looking back down the A7 north of Scots Dyke, with the toll house at the border

Low Hesket to Scots Dyke

Some strange things ***with track***

Yesterday (Wednesday) was always going to be a strange day. Just like the earlier one from Osmotherley to Brompton-on-Swale, this was going to be a connection day, this time between the Pennines and the A6 road to Carlisle.

Again it was grey and overcast when I looked out in the morning, and again rain was forecast. This time, however, I hadn’t got any change of plan for the first part of the day. It was simply going to be up onto the moors, along the crestline, then down to the cafe at Hartside Summit. From there it would be a succession of tracks and minor roads that would eventually lead me to a bus stop on the side of the A6 at Low Hesket. That would then let me get to the B&B I’d booked in Carlisle.

I’d read a description of the crestline walk over the moor; it sounded eminently doable. However, what the author of this description didn’t mention was that some of the walls and fences you have to cross make escaping from Alcatraz look like child’s play. I surprised myself with my agility. Then came the twist, at Hartside Summit. Instead of the warm and friendly cafe I was expecting, all that greeted me was a burnt-out shell. Evidently the cafe was destroyed in a fire about two years ago and is not being rebuilt.

I walked on, and on, and on. Then I came to Renwick. You probably haven’t heard of it; nor had I, for it’s certainly not a well-known walking destination. The big question in my mind was of course whether it had a pub. “No”, said Jack, who was walking slowly down the street. “The nearest pub is two and a half miles away, but you’re welcome to come back to my house for a cup of tea or coffee. It’s up in the village. Just go round to the back door and tell Brenda I sent you.” Brenda, Jack’s wife, was certainly surprised to see this strange visitor. “You might be a serial killer”, she said, “but you’ve got a nice face.” Tea and biscuits followed, then Jack came back from his walk and joined us. What fantastic hospitality! Need I say that it gets the biggest of bouquets?

The remainder of the day was simply a slog. I reached Low Hesket in plenty of time for the bus that would take me to Carlisle. But what was this? Another bus was just pulling in about 100 metres up the hill, obviously also going to Carlisle. I waved furiously at the driver and ran as fast as I could to the stop. Yes, ran, uphill, and with a full pack, after already having walked the best part of 35 kilometres that day. The driver waited. Thank you, sir.

The burnt-out cafe at Hartside Summit

Looking west down to Haresceugh and Renwick

Colour at the roadside

The Eden at Armathwaite

Alston to Low Hesket

Changing the plan ***with track and video***

One of the great advantages of ‘going it alone’ is that you aren’t tied to some fixed route. It’s never “…but I have to go along this particular path past that particular point as otherwise I won’t be able to say that I completed the ‘X to Y’.” Instead you can change your plan to do what seems right for the time.

The hostel in Langdon Beck was close to empty on Monday night. I woke early and looked out over the moors. Grey and overcast, with the prospect of rain – not at all the brilliant weather I’d had when I stayed here on the LEJOG three years ago. I decided therefore to cut across the hill to Cow Green Reservoir rather than go there via the Pennine Way as I’d originally planned. This would mean missing Cauldron Snout, but that seemed a small price to pay. “Seen one waterfall, seen ’em all. That’s wot I say!”

After breakfast I set off for Cow Green Reservoir. From there I followed the miners’ track northward around Backside Hill, climbing all the way. Now it was starting to drizzle; the wind was also getting up. I reached the road at the top and crossed the pass from the Tees to the Tyne. Nothing spectacular, just a boggy watershed, and boggy watersheds aren’t my thing when the immediate prospect is of getting seriously wet.

I looked from the road down onto the bridle path I’d originally planned to take along the South Tyne valley. Churned-up mud and peat and pools of water – definitely not for me today! I stayed on the road instead. Now it was raining properly and blowing hard. It was also getting unpleasantly cold. Staying on the road had definitely been the right decision, especially as that road was leading me downhill to Garrigill and the prospect of a nice warm pub at lunchtime. But of course the pub was closed, as too was the village shop. Lunch was therefore taken sitting on a bench in the shelter of a tree in the village centre. At least the rain eased off.

Then of all things the sun came out. I could dry off and warm up. What a day! No more moorland in the rain. Instead a straightforward path down the side of the South Tyne with not far to go to Alston. I reached there much earlier than I’d originally planned. Time for tea.

Cow Green Reservoir, looking south

The old barytes mine above Cow Green Reservoir

Looking back down the miners’ track

Another watershed, here between the Tees (in the far distance) and the South Tyne

The South Tyne

Langdon Beck to Alston

A video taken from the miners’ track looking out over Cow Green Reservoir can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/bb0z3fd3p1bkj91ux6byaslqs6yaaf96

That F word

On my way from Middleton-in-Teesdale to Langdon Beck I met Jeff and Sue. They’re doing the Pennine Way and were also booked in to stay at Langdon Beck. We chatted for a few minutes, then I went on ahead, saying as I did so that it was about ten kilometres to go to the hostel. When later we met up in the hostel lounge, Jeff commented that it had in fact been a good deal more than ten kilometres. He was right. Sorry!

I’ve found out on all of my walks that I tend to underestimate distances, usually by about ten percent. There’s an explanation for this, and no, it’s not just that I’m unduly slipshod. It’s simply to do with that F word.

When I’m planning the route for a day I start off with it on a map. I then transfer it to Google Earth for editing and refinement. The routes I finish up with are usually very detailed. They’re strings of hundreds of points, with an average point-to-point spacing of about fifty metres. It’s these point strings that I use to get my distance estimates.

Surely you can see where I’m going! If not you’d better enrol for the Mathematical Geology elective. The reason I underestimate the actual distances I travel is that my pace length is a lot less than fifty metres. The F word you’re looking for is Fractal.

Not quite what I’d expected ***with track, voice and videos***

My route on Sunday had taken me across the watershed between the Humber catchment and the Tees catchment. My route yesterday (Monday) was to take me up the Tees, from Barnard Castle to Langdon Beck. I’d expected, naively, a comparatively easy day, essentially a straightforward riverside walk. How wrong can you be?

The path started out in Barnard Castle as the Teesside Way, but after only a few kilometres metamorphosed into the Teesdale Way. That was a warning. Even on the Teesside Way it was difficult to form the impression of walking along a riverside – there is a curtain of trees for most of the way – and once you’re on the Teesdale Way you’re decoupled from the river completely. Well, not quite, because for a couple of kilometres shortly before Middleton-in-Teesdale the Tees has a steeply cliffed left bank, along which the Teesdale Way runs. I use the word ‘along’ advisedly here, because the path runs partly at the bank top and partly at the bank bottom. Fifty metres at the top, then 30 steep stairs down to the bottom, then 25 metres there, then stairs back to the top, then repeat this eight or ten times. You get what I mean. I was glad to reach Middleton.

Time for a pot of tea and a cheese and tomato sandwich, then off to Langdon Beck along the right bank of the Tees. This was following the Pennine Way, albeit a Pennine Way that was here showing its softer side. At last I found what I’d been expecting initially – a path through fields, with the river at my side. Very pleasant, especially as later the river narrowed and crossed the sill. Families aplenty there, all out to see the waterfalls and the rapids.

After High Force there was no one. Just me and the peewits. I reached eventually the point where my LEJOG path came in from the south, from the grouse moor and Hagworm Hill. Strange to think I’d been here before and had never expected to be back.

The Tees, between Barnard Castle and Cotherstone

The Tees, between Barnard Castle and Middleton-in-Teesdale

The softer side of the Pennine Way, between Middleton-in-Teesdale and Low Force

The softer side of the Pennine Way, between Middleton-in-Teesdale and Low Force

Rapids on the Tees, below Low Force

Low Force

High Force: the limestone and the sill

Barnard Castle to Langdon Beck

A wind-affected voice recording made where my LEJOG path came in can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/etn07cmcoetcstt3rbtfvocmk3q846ft

A video taken from a viewpoint on the Teesdale Way near Cotherstone can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/jnk2c9tvyqlklcit05q3kocqxn5vv30a

Three videos of the rapids and the waterfalls on the Tees can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/r75xhly9illdb5brz49fiawp7lfqcdn2

and

https://app.box.com/s/bho25dx5tla14o9n0mj6xte3qwyz5mev

and

https://app.box.com/s/q1hy2yny9lx7pnny8ulyck23fznkuuyp

A mixture of everything ***with track***

I woke this morning (Sunday) to the sound of rain on the bunkhouse roof. Not the most promising of starts to a day, especially as it seemed to confirm the forecast I’d seen before going to bed. My spirits sank. I shaved and dressed and went over the road to get some breakfast materials from the shop. Strange, but now it was only drizzling. And wasn’t that a patch of blue sky I could see? My spirits rose. That was the weather story for the whole day – sometimes wet, sometimes dry, sometimes cloudy, sometimes sunny, sometimes cool, sometimes warm, sometimes with barely a breeze, sometimes with half a gale blowing. A real mixture.

The route for the day took me first into Richmond, passing the ruins of Easby Abbey on the way, then along part of the C2C to Marske, then northwards on the interestingly named Cordilleras Lane past a military firing range, then actually through a part of that range along some scarcely navigable public footpaths, then across grouse moor, then through farming land down to the River Greta, then finally along roads to my B&B in Barnard Castle. Another real mixture.

For most of the time I was by myself, apart of course from the wildlife. For one section, however, I had the delightful company of Nicole, a mathematician from California who generously refrained from discussing representation theory with me. I also got comments on the relative merits of the C2C and the Pennine Way, this time from two obviously experienced walkers. Again a real mixture.

Finally into Barnard Castle. Phew!

Above the Swale, between Richmond and Marske

Woodland at the start of the climb up Cordilleras Lane

A military range, and where’s the public footpath?

Brompton-on-Swale to Barnard Castle

Happy Anniversary

To Flicka, the loveliest lady in the whole wide world, with thanks for 46 precious years.

Coast-to-Coast ***with track***

Georg, who described himself as being from ‘somewhere between Hamburg and Bremen’, was sharing the same dormitory room as me in the hostel at Osmotherley. He was about to start the final stage of the Coast-to-Coast, across the North Yorkshire Moors. He described to me the preceding Coast-to-Coast stage, from Brompton-on-Swale to Osmotherley, as a ‘connection day’. It functions, for Coast-to-Coasters, as a day that links their walking through the Yorkshire Dales with their walking across the North Yorkshire Moors. This stage, at least according to Georg, is far from a thing of beauty in itself. I did that stage today, but in the opposite direction. Georg is absolutely right.

Actually I didn’t follow the exact C2C route. Instead I looped south to go through Northallerton. Why? Simple really! I no longer need my tent, so posting it back to Karen was a sensible idea, one that takes about two kilograms off my shoulders. The only problem was finding a Post Office somewhere – or at least a shop with a Post Office facility – that would be open when I was going by it. I’d hoped originally that there might be one in Osmotherley. No chance! A woman I asked said sadly that Osmotherley did indeed have access to a Post Office facility “but it’s in the Village Hall on Mondays and Tuesdays between 10 and 2.” Not impressive, so Northallerton it had to be.

On days like this I go into autopilot, especially when there’s lots of roadwork to do. The only time I was fully conscious was when I passed through a small village shortly before finishing. Yes, the church there was open and offering tea and coffee. St Mary’s Bolton-on-Swale, just like St Mary’s Newchurch and the Shepherds’ Church at Pyecombe. The same trust and the same feeling of peace.

It was drizzling for the last few kilometres. We’ll see what tomorrow will bring.

St Mary’s Bolton-on-Swale: a magnificent chestnut tree and a pleasant surprise in store

St Mary’s Bolton-on-Swale

Osmotherley to Brompton-on-Swale

Now that truly was outstanding ***with track, voice and videos***

I camped last night at a site just outside a small village – Husthwaite – that nobody seems to have heard of. What a surprise then to discover that this same village boasts an excellent steakhouse. It therefore seemed to me only sensible to round off yesterday’s walk with an 8 oz rump steak with chips, onion rings and the house salad, accompanied by two pints of Black Sheep. I slept well.

Today (Friday) was an outstanding day in so many respects. Firstly there was the introduction – the owls calling to each other above my tent, shortly before the dawn chorus started. Secondly there was the weather – gloriously sunny, but with a breeze that kept me pleasantly cool. Thirdly there was the scenery – the Hambleton Hills, with the panoramic views out over the Vale of York and then to the Pennines. Fourthly there was the path – the Cleveland Way, which runs mostly at the hill edge. Fifthly there were the people – lots of walkers, all of whom gave a cheery greeting and most of whom wanted to stop and talk. Sixthly there was the bird life – in particular the curlews treating me to a low level flying demonstration that would have made that Eurofighter pilot gasp.

The final few kilometres were over moorland. I could look eastward and see the parts of those same moors I’d tramped over last year. This time, however, I’d no need to worry about adders.

Leaving Husthwaite

Closer now!

That climb was worth it! View from the White Horse

View to the west

Looking northwest towards Gormire Lake

Looking west from Sutton Brow

Out onto the moor. East of Kepwick

Moorland with quarries, northeast of Kepwick

Husthwaite to Osmotherley

A voice recording of the owls can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/6yet2zd6z6cm65a638whmfa3pjmzikzp

Two more voice recordings can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/4tlig3wgoxtmibal1ormy8yhb6o4if28

and

https://app.box.com/s/ellw97meh1flzeel8sa4ks3xpzi76u6f

A video shot starting out from Husthwaite can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/g2iq824k3cx00e796xy65ox91m6nrp0e

A video shot from the White Horse can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/w1d3p19fmd8tfdmyjb2jykwbn9n53m9n

A video shot from Sutton Brow can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/p7e70err7jwh04q009wdgamm6aakmf4a

A video shot looking out westward over the moorland, towards the Pennines, can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/v6eep2bthn2ez6bqoediq50sp2izpan8

In welchem Land bin ich dann? ***with track***

Half way through today’s walk (Thursday), right in the middle of nowhere, there for all to read was a notice on a fence ‘Schon wieder ein Gallagher Zaun’. The manufacturer, originally from New Zealand, evidently has its European base in Ibbenbüren, near Steinfurt.

Apart from that there was nothing at all special about the day. Just more countryside. Oh, and it was relatively short – about 25 kilometres.

That’s for tomorrow. My first view of the White Horse, from Husthwaite

Castle Howard to Husthwaite

A bouquet, a trudge, some pedantry, and a strange blogger ***with track and video***

The arrangements at Millington Village Hall deserve to be copied in villages elsewhere. The Hall – once the village’s Methodist chapel – has as one of its present-day functions the provision of what is commonly called camping barn accommodation. This usually means you get provided with a bed or mattress in a weatherproof room, with bathroom and cooking facilities adjacent; you bring your own bed linen, your own soap and towel, and your own food. Millington does it very much better. The Hall is furnished, well heated and has a fully fitted kitchen. Breakfast materials are provided, although naturally you do your own cooking. A bouquet to the Millington community, especially to Peter for his warm welcome.

That’s the bouquet; now for the trudge. The first three kilometres from Millington were excellent. The path was on the hill edge looking down over the Vale of York. York Minster was shining in the morning sun. Then started the trudge – seemingly interminable kilometres on the flat, first across to the Derwent at Scrayingham, then along it via Kirkham Abbey to my destination at Castle Howard. The only bright spot was seeing the flash of blue as a kingfisher sped across the Derwent to trees on the far bank.

Now to the pedantry. I mentioned in an earlier post that ‘finely crafted’ is obviously a synonym for ‘built’. In the same way, ‘luxury executive houses’ are simply ‘houses’. So what does ‘outstanding’ mean in the context of ‘Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty’? Judging by the Howardian Hills, the AONB through which I walked today, nothing. This is just an area of thoroughly normal countryside.

Finally that strange blogger. He said his name was Charles. I met him wandering around the grounds at Castle Howard, muttering aloud that he’d been there before. Here’s a sample of his blog.

‘”I have been here before,” I said; I had been there before; first with Sebastian more than twenty years ago on a cloudless day in June, when the ditches were white with fool’s-parsley and meadowsweet and the air heavy with all the scents of summer; it was a day of peculiar splendour, such as our climate affords once or twice a year, when leaf and flower and bird and sun-lit stone and shadow seem all to proclaim the glory of God; and though I had been there so often, in so many moods, it was to that first visit that my heart returned on this, my latest.’

He does write well, doesn’t he?

St Ethelburga’s Church, Great Givendale

Castle Howard

Millington to Castle Howard

A video of the mill on the River Derwent at Howsham can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/fhwsw95qff05249wfuelv4viwhqh2j1v

Wolds – Who he? ***with track, voice and video***

Even those of you who’ve been awake in lectures will have missed me talking about the meaning of the word ‘wolds’. That’s because I haven’t ever talked about it. Indeed I haven’t ever thought about it, at least not until now.

I started off yesterday (Tuesday) from South Cave, following the Yorkshire Wolds Way. Thirty three kilometres later I left the Yorkshire Wolds Way and headed into Millington, the village where I’m camping overnight in the Village Hall. So what have I learned about Wolds in those 33 kilometres? Simply that they’re chalk hills.

The obvious question for a walker who’s gone across the south of England is if Wolds are the same as Downs. Have I in fact been following the Yorkshire Downs Way? ‘Jein’ – you can translate that yourselves. There are certainly some similarities, but there are clear differences. Nowhere on the Downs have I seen such magnificently developed dry valleys as on these Wolds, and nowhere on these Wolds have I experienced the sense of exhilaration you get when walking parts of the South Downs crest line.

Why then are there these differences? As you’ve suspected, this is a take-home question. Could it have something to do with how and when these different hills of chalk were formed? And do check the drainage pattern. That’s enough hints for now!

Finally, thanks to Graeme and Roan and Aidan for accommodating me in Hessle. All best wishes for the move!

From Little Wold looking south to South Cave

Looking east along Weedley Dale

North side of Weedley Dale

Looking east along Weedley Dale

East Dale

Beech trees in East Dale

On B1230 north of East Dale. What on earth is/was this?

North of East Dale

North of East Dale

Head of Swin Dale

Upper part of Swin Dale, looking north

Lower part of Swin Dale, looking west

“…long fields of barley…”

Buttercups everywhere

South Cave to Millington

A voice recording made in East Dale can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/yv092u5p1nzd8i8b1dzbn9mxp73q0amf

Two videos to show the day’s changing wind conditions can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/yqcsvbag1uojpwl1f0ydv42m2xhsqdhy

and

https://app.box.com/s/6s4czan5awm682ygmtrpq2ndeibnhw8e

A video taken looking west from the hill northwest of Nunburnholme can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/hxifjugajndsr1ru93p30m95ncdbw73a

Restarting ***with track, voice and video***

That was a good rest, but like all rests it had to have an end. Today (Monday) I restarted, sensibly with a relatively short distance, the 17 kilometres out to South Cave. From there I bussed back to Hessle and my Airbnb.

I like variety in a walk, and the path I took from Hessle to South Cave certainly had that. It started in an established residential area near to the town centre of Hessle, it skirted large upmarket housing developments (with houses described as ‘finely crafted’ – presumably a synonym for ‘built’), it climbed relentlessly past a large and very visible chalk quarry, it crossed through woodlands reminiscent of the Kaiserstuhl, it switchbacked its way across downland, then finally it dropped past vineyards into South Cave village. The woodland section was for me the most impressive, particularly for the at times almost strident bird song. I went into David Attenborough mode and made some recordings. It reminded me of that day early on in the walk, the magically rural day from Amberley to Bucks Green.

Tomorrow I’ll bus out to South Cave and head north from there. More of the Yorkshire Wolds.

The Yorkshire Wolds Way leading down into Welton Dale

Above Brantingham

Hessle to South Cave

Two voice recordings made in the woods at the top of Welton Dale can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/x7jpdsimsw76w9vz90z7qg6mfynig2bc

and

https://app.box.com/s/iw3dnjcns2dzusbdte78xqse61xjypp4

Two voice recordings made on the roadside at Brantingham Church can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/v9cq87o6a9dhrxdzzbxd2hqbbi3ubic1

and

https://app.box.com/s/4af0pckj93duwne7wpeudsm00x6s5xyp

A video made in the woods at the top of Welton Dale can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/kf4x8yvcf1fvpnl8xn76jgx6uysy02cc

The rest day, with some assorted observations

So it’s Sunday, the day of rest. And for me this Sunday does mean rest. A lie in, a leisurely breakfast, a few telephone calls and texts, then a stroll down the road into the town centre of Hessle.

I’m now in South Yorkshire, where heels are high, skirts are short, and jeans are tight. I’m not complaining! It’s interesting though to compare the atmosphere here with that in Breisach, which has about the same number of inhabitants as Hessle but is surely more affluent. Here there are dozens of people out on the streets, young and old, there are shops that are open, there are pubs and cafes doing good business, and none of this is tourist driven. There is a genuine buzz.

Hessle was once a significant shipbuilding centre, and it has some historic buildings of note. One of these is All Saints Church, a Grade 1 listed building. I strolled past it and thought to look inside. It was locked, at 1315 on a Sunday! Perhaps I’ve misjudged Hessle: perhaps that buzz that I felt conceals the fact that there are gangs of thieves and vandals roaming the streets at lunchtime on Sundays. I think not. What we have here is evidence that the Church of England in this diocese has lost its way. Go back over the Humber to those villages with their little isolated churches, all of which have ‘Open’ notices outside; or go to the Shepherds’ Church at Pyecombe or St Mary’s at Newchurch. That is how it should be. How on earth can you be relevant to people when you lock them out?

Over the bridge ***with track, voice and video***

Yesterday evening (Friday) I’d had the problem of getting from Caistor to Barnetby. That was solved by bus and train. The reverse problem (of getting back to Caistor) wasn’t going to be nearly as easy. Yes, I could get a train into Grimsby and a bus back to Caistor, but this would mean either starting off from Barnetby at shortly after 6 or getting to Caistor at some time after 11. The solution turned out to be to book a taxi. Not a much more expensive solution either, because the train fare from Grimsby to Barnetby hadn’t been cheap.

I started off from Caistor at 0820, with another long day before me. Again it would be mostly along the Viking Way. I was going to try walking in the Trespass shoes I bought in Boston. This was because the Hoka shoes I’ve been using up to now as my principal pair are turning out to be a bit narrow. Either that or my feet are getting broader.

The section of the Viking Way from Caistor through to Barnetby was reminiscent of a section of it I’d walked previously. Nice countryside but unspectacular, with little villages and their churches. The exception was near Somerby, where sitting alone in the middle of a field was an extremely large stone column. Wikipedia describes it as follows. ‘The Monument was erected in 1770, and is an ashlar doric column topped by an urn. It was erected to commemorate 29 years of marriage for Edward and Ann Weston of Somerby Hall.’ All that for 29 years of marriage. I wonder what they did for their thirtieth.

Somerby, the ‘humble’ monument

I pushed on and reached Bigby. It was time for a break. Dave, who lives there, was standing at his gate talking to Ian, a cyclist. “No”, said Dave to me, “there isn’t a cafe here. The nearest one is two and a half miles away, in Barnetby. But would you like a drink?” So it’s coffee for me and the same for Ian. That really is a classic example of the very best side of this long distance walking thing – the splendidly generous people you meet. Thank you, Dave, and best wishes to you, Ian, on your Greenwich Meridian ride.

The splendid meeting in Bigby: Ian and Dave

I next reached Barnetby, passing the very spot where I’d waited for the taxi about three and a half hours earlier. That was an interesting feeling: on the one hand the speed and comfort of today’s transport, and on the other the chance contact with people such as Dave and Ian.

On then towards the Humber Bridge, still about 19 kilometres ahead. I trust you’ll forgive me if I skip over this bit, for it simply was a trudge. Finally I crossed the bridge. It’s a remarkably solid structure in comparison to the old Forth Road Bridge, which had given me so much pain four years ago. No problems this time.

The Humber, with superbly developed tidal drainage rills

A very solid walkway!

Looking southeast from the Humber Bridge: flat, grey and brown

Looking northeast from the Humber Bridge: flat, grey and brown

Roan was waiting for me at the Airbnb. Tomorrow is a rest day. After 22 days of walking I need it.

Caistor to Hessle

Two voice recordings can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/gbbuhb1guw4xeip7lxzq1lsio8iyz5vx

and

https://app.box.com/s/fsuco70ec5r911mmj8ii6npojo0e51eq

A video taken looking downriver from the Humber Bridge can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/taqpl00bfwr4ajmk8j2885bqcf6tdyy1

A hard day ***with track and video***

I woke at about midnight to the sound of rain on the tent. Gentle rain, but still rain. This was worrying because the day ahead (Friday) was going to be a long one, and one that had a deadline to it. I didn’t want to have to do everything in waterproofs with a heavy wet tent in my backpack. Fortunately the sound of the rain sent me back to sleep.

I woke again a few hours later to the most magnificent dawn chorus – and to the realisation that it wasn’t raining any more and that the tent was dry. I still had the deadline to worry about, however, so I got up and broke camp immediately. Breakfast was bread and cheese and water.

It was one of those grey and overcast days that manage to make me walk without really noticing the places I’m walking through. Not that there was really much to miss, especially in the morning. The only exception was the tiny church tucked away in the wood at what I found out from an information board is the medieval village of Biscathorpe. What’s strange is that the church is obviously Victorian and the village was abandoned in the fourteenth century. Clearly someone had money to burn, as churches as elaborate as this tiny one wouldn’t ever have come cheap.

Church of St Helen, Biscathorpe, tucked into the woods

I walked on, following the Viking Way. Field followed field, track followed track, sometimes up and sometimes down, here a farm and there a village, and so it went on. Nothing particularly special. A good point, however, was that all of the villages seem to have pubs or cafes or shops. How pleasantly unusual! It could of course be that these are deliberately catering to walkers doing the Viking Way. Alternatively they could be the remains of a chain of pubs and cafes and shops that catered more than a thousand years ago to the itinerant Viking hordes. After all, you’d certainly need sustenance after all that pillaging and burning.

The final few kilometres were a slog. The paths through the fields seemed endless, and the herds of cattle didn’t help. Especially the one with the bull. However, I eventually got to Caistor in plenty of time to meet that deadline I’d been worried about. There was therefore time for sausage and mash at the White Hart before getting the bus to Grimsby.

Grimsby? Did my navigation fail me? No, I was due to overnight at Barnetby, not Caistor, and the only way to get there is via Grimsby. So Grimsby it was, with a pleasant conversation on the station and then the train to Barnetby.

A hard day.

Lincolnshire Wolds landscape

Ford at Tealby

Walesby, the Ramblers’ Church

Goulceby to Caistor

A video looking west from the path can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/lp1j19z2yq0ggfhhf008pwv6kopontxz

Whatever happened to Paddy Payne? ***with track and video***

You do remember Paddy Payne, don’t you? The Warrior of the Skies, with lines like, “Take that, you son of a sausage eater”, and “Bandits red five-zero. Got ’em, Skipper!”

Woodhall Spa and its immediate neighbourhood are steeped in WWII history. From the Dower House (the regimental HQ of one of the Airborne units prior to Arnhem), to the Dambuster cafe (where keeping the customer waiting has been developed into an art form), to the Lancaster Brasserie (where I had an excellent gammon steak with slices of tinned pineapple and a fried egg on top, all so sixties that it had me checking the menu for prawn cocktail and chicken-in-the-basket), the scent of the past is everywhere. I expected to hear at any moment the snarl of an open-topped MG driven by some dashingly handsome chap with a maroon silk scarf around his neck.

Everyday life in Woodhall Spa today is clearly very different. Chaps today don’t flourish maroon silk scarves and drive round in snarly MGs; instead they wear salmon pink cashmere sweaters and worry about their slices and hooks. That’s the impression I got as I walked out on the way to Horncastle. The path, which follows the track of the old Horncastle and Woodhall Junction Railway, passes right through the National Golf Centre. Fore!

Yesterday’s post (Wednesday) was centred on the unforeseen. That theme carried on today (Thursday). First there was another meeting with Chris and Sue, then there was one with four other LDWA members. Suddenly long distance walking seemed almost normal.

Time for a pot of tea in Horncastle, then further along the Viking Way. At last some gentle rising and falling, the southern edge of the Lincolnshire Wolds. Farming country again, but with a pleasantly natural feel.

And so it went on until at last I made it to my next campsite, at Goulceby. That was a long day, and I still haven’t found out what happened to Paddy Payne.

The Viking Way, northeast of Woodhall Spa

Meeting again! Chris and Sue on the Viking Way southwest of Horncastle

A first taste of the Lincolnshire Wolds, north of Horncastle

Between Horncastle and Goulceby. That looks suspiciously prehistoric to me!

Woodhall Spa to Goulceby

A video taken north of Horncastle can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/69o5omovn930xdzj1wgv7r7ne8b64808

The unforeseen ***with track***

I suppose it had to happen eventually. One of my pairs of shoes (the old Roclites I’m using as backups) gave up the ghost. This was on my way to Boston. The first thing to do yesterday (Wednesday) was therefore to go into Boston to get a replacement pair. I opted for a pair of Trespass sneakers and will use them as backups only. And, yes, they don’t have red soles!

The result of this unforeseen shopping expedition was that I started off late on my way to Woodhall Spa. I took the footpath/cyclepath up the left bank of the Witham, expecting to cross the river at Langrick Bridge and then follow the cycleway along the roads to the bridge at Chapel Hill. All very boring, as well as being hard on the feet.

But what was this? A couple of walkers on the opposite bank, one of whom was carrying a map. Could it be that they knew of a footpath that I’d missed? We duly met up at Langrick Bridge, and yes there is a footpath along the right bank of the Witham right through to Chapel Hill. Thanks to this unforeseen meeting with Chris and Sue I avoided what would undoubtedly have been many kilometres of unpleasant roadside walking. What I got instead was the peace of a river bank.

Suddenly, however, this peace was shattered – and I do mean shattered! I was directly opposite RAF Coningsby and a Eurofighter was starting to practice its routine for an air show. Extremely fast and extremely maneuverable. Rolling, climbing, diving, looping, low level passing, upside down, accelerating, slowing. I stood and watched for ten minutes or more. My own private air show.

Eventually I reached my campsite at Woodhall Spa.

River Witham, between Langrick Bridge and Chapel Hill

Boston to Woodhall Spa

The rest of yesterday ***with track and voice***

The post about yesterday (Tuesday) finished with a thoroughly understandable rant about the vandalism that results when farms become agribusinesses. That rant covered the part of the day until I reached Fosdyke Bridge and crossed the Welland.

From then on things were different. Believe it or not, the reason for the change was none other than the Sea Bank! Not, however, the Sea Bank I had previously got to know. This was the old Sea Bank, built perhaps two hundred years ago and sitting now a distance from the present coastline, with farmland on each side. There is a footpath along the top of this old Bank, one that evidently is mown about twice a year. To judge by the height of the stinging nettles it’s due for mowing now!

Beautiful surprises on this path! A talented accordionist on a boat as I left Fosdyke Bridge; a kestrel flying out of the scrub no more than five metres ahead of me; another kestrel leaving a nesting box; an inquisitive fox; a bench exactly where I needed one. The difference between this old Bank and the modern one is that it is a living part of the countryside around. You feel it.

Eventually I reached Boston and found my B&B. It was a long and tiring day, especially as the sun had shone the whole time, but at least the better part had come at the end. Good memories.

The accordionist on his boat at Fosdyke Bridge

The path on the old Sea Bank north of Fosdyke Bridge

The path on the old Sea Bank north of Fosdyke Bridge

The old Sea Bank north of Fosdyke Bridge

Hawthorn, on the old Sea Bank north of Fosdyke Bridge

The old Sea Bank, now a natural part of the landscape

Holbeach Hurn to Boston

A voice recording of the accordionist can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/wjcvyky19rhiqc045mtg981cvvte6ilx

Two bouquets and a right royal brickbat ***with track, voice and video***

The first bouquet is for Helen, who hosts the Airbnb I stayed at for my two nights in King’s Lynn. I was looked after very well. A comfortable bed in a quiet house, lots of hot water in the shower, good breakfasts, a very central and convenient location, and always a friendly atmosphere. Thank you, Helen.

The second bouquet is for Dougie and the team at the campsite at Holbeach Hurn. The breakfast there was worth staying around for, just as I thought. I’d been told the previous evening that it would be available from 0900, which would have meant getting a rather late start. It would also have meant sitting around twiddling my thumbs for the best part of an hour as I’m generally ready to move off from a campsite by 0800. The long and the short of it was that I was indeed ready to move off at 0800 but decided to call in first at the bar (where the breakfast would be served) to see if there was any life. A good move, because the man doing the cleaning there immediately got me a coffee. Next the owner’s wife came in and told me I’d been the object of discussion among the locals the previous evening. (“How on earth is that great big guy going to fit into that teeny little tent?”). Then the owner himself came in. “I’ll get you your breakfast straight away.” Brilliant! A very well deserved bouquet.

My route onward from Holbeach Hurn was for the first part along roads. Why? Well there simply aren’t any footpaths until eventually you reach the coastal path along the Welland. This really is a horrible area. You start walking through it thinking of it as rural. You expect rural things – just as on that magic day in Sussex that started in Amberley. Then the realisation hits you that this countryside is industrial not rural. The farms are not farms, they’re agribusinesses. The fields are huge because huge is efficient. There are no hedges and trees and coverts because hedges and trees and coverts are inefficient. There are hardly any people about. The only birds are a few skylarks and pigeons. Otherwise it is empty. Notices tell you that tracks lead only to particular farms (‘Dodgy Farms Ltd’) and that access is available exclusively to ‘authorised persons’. The message is ‘This is a factory. Keep out!’

A brickbat is necessary, and it seems only right that this go to the head of an organisation that publicly vaunts its green credentials, yet clearly, from the roadside notices I saw here, is proud to be part of this vandalism – The Crown Estate. So, your majesty, here is a right royal brickbat for you. From your humble servant theendtoendblog.

Agribusiness

Holbeach Hurn to Boston

A voice recording can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/f4r08jbj3m7yyzgyznq6c5h0kp73pqdu

A video can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/5fo2zjwdkcu66hr4l7xr80cioo7hgcxg

I’m not sure what to call this post ***with track, voice and video***

There are times when you’re putting a blog post together under very difficult conditions. Sometimes it’s that you’re tired and desperate to crash. Sometimes it’s that it’s freezing cold and the fingers won’t type properly. Now I’ve found something even more extreme. I’ve had a rather frustrating day out in the sun, I’ve reached my campsite at Holbeach Hurn and pitched my tent, I’ve napped for about half an hour, I’m sitting at the bar in the campsite pub with a pint of John Smith’s, and now playing on the TV in front of me is ’20 Silly Songs of the 80s’. For instance, Ray Parker Jr, Divine, Musical Youth, Toni Basil, etc. Seriously strange stuff that is making coherent blogging very difficult indeed. I know you’ll understand.

In the last post I gave you the impression that there would be no more Sea Bank. Unfortunately that wasn’t to be. Today was more of it, starting out at Sutton Bridge and walking northwards along the west bank of the Nene. The story was the same as yesterday – flat, flat and more flat.

At lunchtime I was within striking distance of civilisation. A pub seemed a good idea. “Yes”, said the lady at the roadside, ” there’s a pub at the other end of the village. Oh, no, it doesn’t open on Mondays!” To be fair, that’s the first closed pub on Three Pierheads.

After a short break I headed back to the Bank. Red flags everywhere! It turns out that this part of the coast is a military target range. Fortunately the coastal path I was following is just outside the range boundary. There was therefore no danger of me being intercepted and marched away by a group of squaddies.

Finally I turned away from the Bank once more, heading inland towards my campsite at Holbeach Hurn. The route was not a particularly good one, the reason being that in the farming area inland of the Bank there are no good routes. The fields are very large, and they are commonly separated from each other by ditches. That means you are always forced to keep to the farmers’ preferred tracks. Normal public footpaths are a rarity. Walking here is tiring and at times frustrating.

Now the good news. The BBQ ribs were excellent and the campsite pub also does breakfasts.

Peter Scott’s lighthouse, seen from the west bank of the Nene

Sutton Bridge to Holbeach Hurn

A voice recording can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/01d70nldrp7mr2uxxsbj96uhgkms9gt0

A video of another way of seeing the landscape can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/sppcnej9ub5lwsok9r17gxamc59r8c8j

Something else I’ve now done enough of ***with track and videos***

After those 40 kilometres yesterday (Saturday) I definitely needed something shorter. How fortunate then that planned for today was simply a shortish stroll along the Peter Scott Walk from King’s Lynn to Sutton Bridge, followed by a bus ride back to King’s Lynn. Well that’s what it said in the book.

The Peter Scott Walk follows the Sea Bank around the coast. In winter it is evidently a mecca for bird watchers. Today there was only me. There were plenty of birds, of course, particularly egrets. These were shining a brilliant white in the sun.

The Sea Bank goes on, and it goes on, and it goes on! The land spreads out monotonously flat on both sides: cultivated farmland on the landward side and saltmarsh on the seaward side. You tend therefore to find yourself losing your sense of orientation. As I started out I could feel the Bank obviously leading me away from somewhere; then gradually that somewhere disappeared and I was simply being led. It was only when the lighthouses at the mouth of the Nene came into view, kilometres later, that I had the feeling of being led back to somewhere.

The final few kilometres into Sutton Bridge were on tarmac. I had half an hour to wait for the bus and a convenient riverside bar to wait in. The pint of Hen went down perfectly.

That was far from the shortish stroll I’d planned. Sea Bank? Been there, done that!

At the side of the Great Ouse

The Great Ouse, looking south from the Sea Bank back to King’s Lynn

From the Sea Bank, looking out to sea

Peter Scott’s lighthouse, at the mouth of the Nene

Looking westwards across the Nene, with the obligatory geese

King’s Lynn to Sutton Bridge

A video shot from the Sea Bank near the mouth of the Great Ouse can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/2vvflm4tcre9s96d4o4irg3os1lrv77t

A video shot from the Sea Bank halfway along to the mouth of the Nene can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/qmciubje094ylog6biuo8py1pkgxmju4

Yes, those are indeed cliffs in the distance! They’re at Hunstanton, on the far side of The Wash.

A video shot from the Sea Bank even further along can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/80pt9dvskm735ajox7y15vu7ua30mu6y

Flat, oder?

A bouquet, a brickbat, and an extra long day ***with track and video***

The bouquet goes to Nolene, who hosts the Airbnb at Littleport in which I stayed. ‘Cosy little room with peaceful neighbourhood’ is the Airbnb description, but in fact the room isn’t little at all. Most importantly, the bed is comfortable and long enough to accommodate this walker. Add in the availability of a bath rather than just a shower and you have a splendid place to stop overnight. Thank you, Nolene, for accommodating me so well. I left Littleport relaxed and refreshed.

Which leads me immediately to the brickbat, for it was just as I left Littleport that I came across one of the most dangerous pieces of public footpath that I’ve ever encountered. You cross the Ouse and are then faced with walking about two kilometres along the A10, which there is seriously busy. There’s no footpath along the roadside, so you wonder, naturally, where the Fen Rivers Way has gone. The answer is that it’s along the top of the river dyke, thigh deep in soaking wet grass and cow parsley. Cambridgeshire County Council have been told several times that this path is unwalkable, yet they choose to do nothing about it. A brickbat is clearly in order.

The cynic in me suggests that the reason Cambridgeshire County Council ignores the state of the Fen Rivers Way north of Littleport is that it’s right at the edge of the county. It’s almost in Norfolk. Things get better almost immediately as you cross the county line: the path is on the dyke top and is mown, as it should be. (Having just reread that sentence, I realise it sounds American: “And I’m one step ahead of the shoe shine, two steps away from the county line.” Note, however, that it’s ‘dyke’ not ‘dike’!)

The walk along the Ouse was not visually memorable. It was also extra long – just over 40 km in total from Littleport to King’s Lynn. I think I’ve done enough fen rivers for now!

The obviously non-tidal Great Ouse, south of Ten Mile Bank

The Great Ouse, north of Downham Market

The now obviously tidal Great Ouse, immediately south of Wiggenhall St Peter

St Peter’s Church, Wiggenhall St Peter

St Peter’s Church, Wiggenhall St Peter

Littleport to King’s Lynn

Note added later, on returning home. Our Bavarian correspondent has written to remind theendtoendblog that we mustn’t ever confuse the Church of St Peter at Wiggenhall St Peter (http://www.norfolkchurches.co.uk/wiggenhallstpeter/wiggenhallstpeter.htm) with the Church of St Mary the Virgin at Wiggenhall St Mary (http://www.norfolkchurches.co.uk/wiggenhallstmary/wiggenhallstmary.htm) or the Church of St Mary Magdalene at Wiggenhall St Mary Magdalen (http://www.norfolkchurches.co.uk/magdalen/magdalen.htm) or the Church of St Germain at Wiggenhall St Germans (http://www.norfolkchurches.co.uk/wiggenhallstgermans/wiggenhallstgermans.htm). Obviously not! Thank you, Christian.

A video of – yes you’ve guessed – more of the fen countryside can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/g3nhv8uz6lxmrkomiq85ho5n1ay6lxbf

The winning answers

1) The river is evidently the Lea, but I’ve started so I’ll finish…

“The battle of the River Lea took place in 895 between the English and Danes. A Viking sword believed to be of late 9th century date was recovered from the excavations for the Lockwood Reservoir in the old course of the River and may be associated with this battle. The primary sources are manuscripts of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle:
‘Then that same year in early winter the Danes who were encamped on Mersea rowed their ships up the Thames and up the Lea … ‘, and
‘And in the same year the aforesaid army made a fortress by the Lea, 20 miles above London. Then afterwards in the summer a great part of the citizens and also of other people marched until they arrived at the fortress of the Danes, and there they were put to flight and four king’s thegns were slain. Then later, in the autumn, the king encamped in the vicinity of the borough while they were reaping their corn, and examined where the river could be obstructed, so that they could not bring the ships out. And then this was carried out: two fortresses were made on the two sides of the river. When they had just begun that work … the enemy perceived that they could not bring the ships out. Then they abandoned the ships and went overland … Then the English army rode after the enemy, and the men from London fetched the ships, and broke up all which they could not bring away, and brought to London those which were serviceable.’ ”

…phew!

2) The track was ‘Mash It Up Harry’ (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ErcvG2t8a7U) by the incomparable and late-lamented Ian Dury, and the character is Harry.

Thank you Roland. Your prize will shortly be winging its way to you.

The day after ***with track and videos***

The bare bones of yesterday’s walk (Friday) were as follows. Checked out of college. Caught bus to Waterbeach. Walked north along Fen Rivers Way. Reached Airbnb in Littleport. Needless to say, there was a lot more going on.

On leaving college I first went to the Post Office to send off the clothes I’d been wearing at the High Table dinner. I could of course have carried them with me for the remaining part of the walk, but a suit is not part of my normal dress code for walking. Perhaps it should be.

In Waterbeach my number one priority was to return the money I’d been given. I did so, and thanked the lady. She blushed with embarrassment. Obviously she hadn’t realised how kind she had been. What a wonderful person!

Next it was down to the Fen Rivers Way. This follows first the Cam and then the Ouse, finishing up at King’s Lynn. The section of it along to Ely can best be described as empty, flat and birdy. Empty because there was just me on it, flat because that’s what the fen landscape is, and birdy because there were birds to see and hear everywhere. This very amateur twitcher had the binoculars and the camera out regularly, particularly for the flocks of geese.

The flatness of the fens is emphasised wherever there is a building you can recognise from a distance, for instance the cathedral at Ely. This sat on my horizon, giving me a target to aim at. Then the target wasn’t there any more! What happened, and in a matter of only a few minutes, was that a savage little rain squall passed through. There is not a skerrick of protection for you then on the fens. You have simply to walk on through the wind and the rain. There is nothing else to do.

The sun came back out as I entered Ely. Clearly a pot of tea was called for. This duly arrived, accompanied by a wedge of carrot cake to keep that blood sugar level up! Then it was off again for the final leg of the day, the riverside path to Littleport.

I finished the day with a long hot bath, carry-out fish and chips, and a superbly comfortable bed. Excellent.

Fen landscape near Upware, with geese

At Kingfishers Bridge Nature Reserve

Ely Cathedral on the far horizon

Waterbeach to Littleport

A video of the fen landscape near Upware can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/4d36fbohthg9zrloh65cpwavlwv4qfgq

Two videos showing geese flying at Kingfishers Bridge can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/fxozvxlhtpx3h9bhiqn9xc0g3u7z92d4

and

https://app.box.com/s/71i160nsflrss2lritrs7ne6bcrj3wqf

Unusual and unexpected ***with track***

When you’re looking back on a walk, or when you’re looking back on a particular walking day, how do you measure how memorable it was? For me there is just one question to answer. How unusual and unexpected were the events on it? Unusual and unexpected events are the spice of walking. Without them a walk is bland.

My stay here in Cambridge has let me dine for the very first time at High Table in college. (No, of course I didn’t turn up in walking clothes! I arranged that a suit and tie would be sent there for me.) I booked in for this dinner several months ago and was looking forward to it immensely. Then later I contacted Steve and he booked in too. What a marvellous evening it was. Two friends from a long time back enjoying all too briefly the very special hospitality of our college.

Fitzwilliam College. Lasdun’s hall roof.

My dinner companion

The following morning I walked out to Waterbeach, meeting David and Valerie on the way and joining them for lunch. Marvellous company as always.

Once more!

Afterwards I went into the village store in Waterbeach to ask about bus times back to Cambridge and to get out some necessary money from the machine. “Sorry”, said the lady behind the counter, “but the machine doesn’t take credit cards. However, if you just need cash for the bus back to Cambridge I’ll give you some.” Yes, give! And she did. Ten pounds. Needless to say I’ll be going back to Waterbeach tomorrow to repay her.

That was a truly memorable evening followed by a truly memorable day. Thank you, Steve, for your company and for your logistic support. Thank you, David and Valerie, for joining me once more. And thank you, dear lady from Waterbeach, for your unbelievable humanity.

Cambridge to Waterbeach

The very necessary rain ***with track***

I woke this morning to find it raining – and I almost screamed with pleasure. It’s not often that rain makes this walker happy, believe me, but this time it did. The reason is that the fields are crying out for water. The earth is as hard as concrete.

Steve picked me up in college and drove me back to Shepreth. From there it was a straightforward walk through Barrington and Haslingfield to Grantchester, then along the river bank to Cambridge.

What a change from yesterday! Firstly, today’s walk was very much shorter; secondly, I was carrying only a day pack; thirdly, the paths were already softened by the rain and therefore far more comfortable. There was even a perfectly placed village store that provided me with a mug of coffee exactly when I needed one. The only thing I didn’t get right was my arrival in Grantchester. “Yet stands the church clock at twenty four minutes to one?” It doesn’t really scan, does it?

Yet stands the church clock…

The Cam at Grantchester Meadows.

Shepreth to Cambridge

Long and unmemorable ***with track and voice***

The walk on Monday finished at a farm campsite just outside the small village of Ardeley. I was the only camper, the farm is big, and Ardeley is stuck out in the middle of nowhere. That should have been a recipe for a peaceful night’s sleep. There was just one small problem, namely that Ardeley turns out to be directly under the flight path into Luton Airport and not far from the flight path into Stanstead Airport. My little tent doesn’t do soundproofing, so it wasn’t the most peaceful of nights.

The campsite cafe produced a great ‘Full English’ for me the following morning (Tuesday), so I set off in good spirits nevertheless. That was just as well, because the route for the day was a succession of relatively unmemorable public footpaths, public bridleways, public byways and public restricted byways. What are the differences? Simply the categories of users. There is often no difference at all in the quality of the way.

My target for the day was Shepreth. From there I took the train to Cambridge, then walked to college and the comfort of a guest room. Tomorrow it’s back to Shepreth to restart.

That was a long day.

Tree in fields northwest of Ardeley

Back Lane – not Stane Street!

And this is officially a public byway! North of Cottered.

All Saints Church, Sandon. Now that’s what I call buttressed!

Thatcher at work in Therfield

Ardeley to Shepreth

A voice recording referring to Stane Street (which in fact turned out to be Back Lane) can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/vqnsd2fatlhlaguf09y7id3qln18bp8v

Definitely not a pub quiz question ***with track***

It would be fair to say that I haven’t been inundated with answers to my second ‘pub quiz’ question. Obviously you’ve all got some work to do if you want to win the evening’s prize. I haven’t worked out yet what it’ll be, but you certainly won’t want to miss it.

Back to the Three Pierheads. Yesterday I miscalculated distances and speeds, with the result that I reached Cheshunt, my planned destination, at an absurdly early hour. I therefore compromised by walking on to Broxbourne, thereby shortening today’s leg. The route I’d planned to use from Broxbourne followed the Lea Valley Walk again, but I got sidetracked as I started by a sign promising me a river that was neither new nor a river. I was intrigued.

The New River is an aqueduct built more than 400 years ago to transport water from Hertfordshire to North London. It is still used today. What a difference both to a natural river and to a canal! No boats, of course, and a waterside path that is considered to be too narrow to allow cyclists. But still with all the water birds. A sort of walkers’ heaven.

The New River

The New River – obviously not for boats!

The New River

At Ware I left the New River Path. There was then several kilometres of road work to Wadesmill. After that it was (mostly) off-road walking right the way through to Ardeley, tonight’s destination.

The path through the fields northwest of Wadesmill follows what locals evidently call The Bourne. This is a steep-sided gully that in places is 20 metres across and up to 10 metres deep. It’s lined by trees and mostly difficult to see into. To some extent it is reminiscent of the Hohlwege on the Kaiserstuhl, but it is much longer and very much flatter. How did it form, and when? Man-made or natural? I’m still thinking about it, running through the various possibilities. So far I haven’t come across any explanation that completely convinces me.

This is definitely not a pub quiz question. What an excellent way to finish a day.

Looking down into The Bourne

The Bourne (in the trees), looking northwest

The Bourne (in the trees), looking southeast

Broxbourne to Ardeley

Two questions for your next pub quiz ***with track and video***

Today (Sunday) was also a navigationally straightforward one. It involved following the Lea Valley Walk from Hackney Wick to Broxbourne. A canal walk, with boats moored stem to stern for much of the way, with families and joggers and cyclists aplenty, with all of the obligatory water birds, and with coffee and carrot cake at the Lea Rowing Club cafe. All very satisfactory.

Now comes the first question. Sometimes it’s ‘Lea’ and sometimes it’s ‘Lee’. Which is correct? Well of course a pedant like me had to look this up when he was planning the walk. It appears that the river is Lee but the valley is Lea. All very curious, but at least there seems to be a rule. Now fast forward to today. There’s no rule at all! The Lee (river) can be Lee or Lea, depending on who’s been writing the sign – and it obviously doesn’t matter if the sign is an official one or not. The same goes for the Lea (valley). Evidently you take’s your pick.

I was pondering all of this when suddenly another sign came into view, with an arrow pointing to Ponders End. No, I’m not going to tell you that my pondering about Lee and Lea ended there. Instead I’m giving you the second question. In which track from which artist is reference made to Ponders End, and who is the character concerned?

Hedgerow at the side of the towpath

Hackney Wick to Broxbourne

A video of geese on the towpath can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/t9qf4vwzijwusu375myt54xi1xabq6x3

Through London ***with track, voice and video***

Yesterday (Saturday) saw me restarting along the Thames Path at Putney. There was a biting easterly wind, amplified wherever there were tall buildings for it to meet, for instance all those blocks of luxury executive apartments that now are such a Thames-side pestilence.

I headed ever further along the path, dodging the crowds of tourists wherever possible and eventually reaching the Millennium Bridge. I then crossed the river and headed into the City. This is where a part of my family comes from.

I wanted two photographs, of Wren churches. One of these had to be St Paul’s of course. The other was St Mary Somerset, of which only the tower remains. The contrast is extreme: the one still dominates the City skyline, the other is tucked in among new glass-fronted buildings. Both however have that same unmistakeable style and confidence.

I crossed through the City into Whitechapel, then out along the Mile End Road and the Bow Road. Finally I cut through to finish at the station at Hackney Wick.

I was glad to get back to Surbiton. It was a long cold day with long hard footpaths.

St Paul’s

St Mary Somerset

Putney to Hackney Wick

A voice recording made at the start of the day can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/jxro0wjxmqnhy2tyd142kq43czkl12jc

A video of geese in the churchyard of St Mary’s, Battersea, can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/rynqbqsj9gfmigsew01jl87o3kkckxjo

Riverside walking ***with track, voice and videos***

Thursday’s walk finished at the Airbnb that Flicka and I are using in Surbiton. Then it was off down the road for an evening with John and Mell and Frankie.

The following day (Friday) was about as navigationally straightforward as a walking day ever could be: from Surbiton to the Thames at Kingston, then along the Thames Path to Putney. From there it was simply a case of getting the train back to Surbiton.

Riverside walking is something I enjoy. There is nevertheless riverside walking and riverside walking. The first is where the river is still some sort of normal natural phenomenon – like a hill or a wood. The second is where the river has been tamed. The Thames has been fully tamed in its lower parts. Its course is fixed. Its bounds are set by the places on its banks, many of which are now standard tourist destinations. The Thames Path is therefore nothing more than a linking together of these places, with a river at its side. Despite that it is a pleasant path to walk, especially because, at least on the stretch from Kingston to Putney, it is well served with watering holes. The riverside walker does need these.

Style

Des. res., with adjacent pub

Surbiton to Putney

A voice recording made at the start of the day can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/z8tmzk72roj3tr9br5kq29ep9nk6rhme

A video of the peaceful riverside environment near Kew can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/6tmds8w83r45by3ejw1cchu9rdmxemk5

Two videos for the oarspeople among us can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/n34dlqofz7tyhbswd4rdvc5k5pu1z55i

and

https://app.box.com/s/fupbmicd6g2l65mb6yxn8xl7vi1sci9v

A legionary’s perspective ***with track***

Tanners Hatch hostel is nestled in the North Downs. It’s secluded and still and evokes a feeling of the past. Leaving it I headed inevitably back into the present. Not for long, however, as I found that the path leading me up and around Box Hill was Stane Street – that same Roman road I had climbed along on the way to Amberley and that I had been carried along twice in the bus between Bucks Green and Horsham. (And if anyone is saying ‘Bus?’, yes it was, but only to get from and to Bucks Green at the end of a day and the beginning of the next. There’s no cheating on theendtoendblog!)

Anyway, there was this intrepid Roman legionary, half way from Chichester to London, marching along quietly minding his own business, when suddenly he hears, “Excuse me, but could you pass me my ball?” “Haltus quickus”, yells the centurion, and there, right in front of the column is this small spherical white object. And leaning over the fence is a native, clad in the obligatory native garb and clasping in his hand what appears to be a weapon of war – a stick-like thing with a curved metal end. “This is Tyrrells Green Golf Course”, he says.

The day as a whole wasn’t a memorable one. Simply a few less forgettable interludes in a sequence of ever more suburban experiences. More about some of those later.

Ranmore to Surbiton

Those pictures from yesterday ***with videos***

Isn’t it amazing how much we now depend on a mobile phone connection?

South of Ewhurst

The tree

The tree

Leith Hill Tower

Belted Galloways, before the climb to Ranmore

A video of the estate landscape west of Ewhurst can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/hlc6iqv07wtmv4mgoq5k05bb6alko7if

A video taken from Leith Hill can be downloaded at:

https://app.box.com/s/z3xa01zizvtjdsetvqvtds3hkj4i1hp4

Happy Birthday, Lauren Mary

With love to you and your lovely family, Dad

For those of you who forgot ***with track***

Today (Wednesday) was when I said farewell to my marvellous hosts in Chichester – Karen, Dan, and of course Arthur. Thank you so much for putting up so patiently with this strange house-guest.

I was looking forward to the walk today, chiefly because it wasn’t going to be another long one. It also promised to be pleasantly rural, with lots more of that birdsong that captivated me yesterday. One out of two. The length turned out to be right (just over 26 km) but the ruralness didn’t. Perhaps I was now expecting too much, but today didn’t live up to yesterday’s standard. Rural certainly, but something was different. It could have been that the farms were bigger or that there were more signs of obvious prosperity, or it could have been that there was no longer that lovely Wey South Path to follow, with the winding canal. But could there possibly also have been some other underlying reason?

Already I see some of you remembering that you didn’t get round to enrolling for the next Introductory Geology course. Don’t expect me to remind you every time in the future!

OK, so the underlying reason for the different countryside could be geological. Wealden Anticline? Asymmetry? River drainage? Essays please for the next tutorial!

Back to what was good today. Yes, there were birds there, and a couple too that weren’t on yesterday’s list. A woodpecker, to remind me of home, and a beautiful little tree creeper on the Greensand Way in the woods north of Leith Hill.

(Oh yes, there are photographs from today, but you’ll have to wait for them. I took them on my Android phone, for which I currently have no mobile signal. I’m overnighting in the Youth Hostel at Tanners Hatch. Not all of the networks have a presence here.)

Bucks Green to Ranmore