Day 20 Postscript

Whilst paused in Ripponden for elevenses this morning (which, unusually, fell before 11 as we had omitted 2nd breakfast) I had to re-read what I'd written last night as I was so tired as I wrote it that I feared that it said no more than "went for a walk past some reservoirs". I'm pleased to see that I managed to string together a few more words than that, but I did miss out a couple of notable points.

If you were to go way back to the post I made last September announcing the route that we intended to take on this walk you'll see that I said that as we touched the Pennine Way at Wessenden Head we would pause for an egg bap and a cup of tea at the snack wagon on the main road there.

Mick positively rushed up the hill once that van came into view, but it proved that our usual tea-room jinx was holding firm. The hatch was closed and we were advised that they'd sold out of everything except cold drinks. They were just packing everything up to leave.

With just a chocolate bar out of our rations with which to console ourselves (I dropped my half on the floor but wasn't going to forego it, so brushed it off and ate it anyway), we continued on our way (where John belatedly noticed that when he'd bought a bottle of pop from the van he'd been underchanged by a fiver).

It was at the snack van that we had our first (but not our last) convergence with our LEJOG route. For the next three and a half miles, into Marsden, we followed the exact same route as we did 2 years ago, except that just outside of Marsden John decided that rather than taking the road we were much better trying to kill our knees with a long flight of steps. It was the sort of flight where you wouldn't want to stumble on the top step if you wanted to make it to the bottom in one piece. It was also deceptive, as from the top you could only see the top two-thirds of the flight; the bottom third, being much steeper than the top part, was hidden from view until we got there. Our knees groaned again!

All else to be said about yesterday is a huge thank you to Phil, Rosa and Megan for the transport, hospitality and use of their facilities (and to Cathy for the use of her room in her absence). We enjoyed being spoiled to such an extent!

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Day 20 - By Hingcliffe Hill to Marsden

Sunday 11 April
Distance: 16 miles (Tot: 351 miles (that's more than 33% complete!))

A somewhat nippy night was had, which was perhaps predictable after our day of fine weather and given that we were camping at the bottom of quite a steep sided valley, and rising just after 6am it started to feel even colder as a mist descended, obliterating our surroundings.

The mist was shortlived, and by the time all five of us were setting off at 7.45 everything was starting to come into focus, although it didn't show much promise for the forecast glorious day.

Having ended yesterday somewhere slightly different (and undoubtedly far superior) to where originally planned, a bit of rerouting saw us back on track just beyond Langsett Reservoir this morning. A quick yomp on an obvious footpath took us across fields (and under power lines which Richard will be pleased to know were exactly where they should have been!) to join the Trans Pennine Trail, which gave swift passage (it being (at this point a disused railway line) to Winscar Reservoir, where a leisurely second breakfast was had.

The blue skies opening up above us convinced all of us that within minutes it was going to be a scorching day, so off we all stripped, only to find that the breeze was a bit keener than we had thought and thus although the day was gorgeous, at no point did I feel as hot as I did yesterday (incidentally, I have a glowing beacon in the middle of my face, thanks to putting suncream everywhere except my nose yesterday).

We're well and truly into reservoir country now, so after Langsett and Winscar we passed Riding Wood, Ramsden, Brownhill, Digley, Wessenden Head, Wessenden and Butterley reservoirs on the way to Marsden, although not without stopping at the Fleece Inn at Holme to refresh ourselves at lunchtime.

Reaching Marsden our numbers decreased as Dave and John departed for their trains home, having enjoyed (or perhaps they were just being polite and they meant 'endured'?) their weekend of walking with us in stunning conditions. Phil's time walking with us is also over (work tomorrow for all three of them), but he and his family are kindly putting us up tonight, so having paused briefly in another pub, Phil's wife Rosa arrived to transport us to their house, where we have enjoyed an enormous and mightily tasty tea.

So, tomorrow we're back down to the two of us, and unless anyone's going to surprise us along the way, as far as we're aware we're on our own now for the whole of the rest of the distance.

Day 19 - Hathersage to by Hingcliffe Hill

Sat 10 April
Distance: 14 miles (Tot: 325)
Number of bee/wasp stings: 2
Number of mountain hares: 1
Audio accompaniment to the day: the cackling of grouse

At the risk of sounding a bit repetitive: what a fantastic day we've had!

It had an extraordinarily lazy start, as there was no benefit in us arriving early at our night stop, what with it being an unlawful camp rather close to a ranger station.

So, it was 9.40 before we ambled out of the campsite and headed up to the already-heaving Stanage Edge.

Joining the edge beyond the most popular area, we didn't find ourselves surrounded by others, and skipped along in the sunshine with magnificent views.

After Stanage Edge (and not before a break for elevenses, which thanks to our late start came later today than its name would suggest) came Derwent Edge where the sky was still blue, the views still first class and the gritstone shapes interesting. Oh it's a hard life, walking through this sort of area on such a fine day!

The first sting of the day came at Back Tor, where we agreed with the dozen and a half people already there that it was a good lunch venue. With hunger dealt with, and feet rested, a move was just being made towards continuing on our merry way when an exclamation came from Dave following a wasp taking exception to his arm. Assuring us that he was fine and it just smarted a little, on we continued.

At this point in the day my original plan (taken from the End to End Trail route) took us down to Derwent Reservoir before climbing back up to the edge beyond Cranberry Clough, following Rights of Way. Last night the descent-to-reascend was pointed out to me and a revised plan was hatched to stay up high, and cut between paths by a bit of pathless yomping, (choosing to ignore the bog symbols on the map and names such as Featherbed Moss and Middle Moss). As well as avoiding an unnecessary 1000 feet of descent, it also cut about 2 miles off the day.

Our way at this point was about as clear as they come. John is strongly against the flagging of the peaty morasses that serve as paths in this area, so he was not overly pleased to find that the path leading up to Back Tor has been paved, and was even less pleased to find that the flagging continued for some distance afterwards.

It sped us along, but we didn't stay on the path forever, as we had some yomping to do and it was just as we were pondering the map to decide where we were best to leave the path that John took his turn with the bee stings.

Oh the fuss he made! The air turned blue. Either his was a far more painful experience than Dave's, or John's a bit of a girly wuss...

The pathless yomp that ensued turned out not to be pathless. Unsurprisingly many others had opted for the same plan in the past, and for most of the way there was a clear route through the peat and bog (not always a practical route, if you wanted to avoid losing a leg, but clear all the same).

It was good walking, and definitely more intersting than the flagstones, but it wasn't the fastest walking.

It was also across this 2km section, just as we came across the only patch of snow we've seen, that we spotted a mountain hare (in winter garb). It was even kind enough to sit and pose for a while, albeit not close enough to get a photo. That was a first - I've never seen one before.

Eventually we did re-emerge onto the edge path (with incredible views), just before Margery Hill (wonder how many people called Margery Hill have ever been up Margery Hill?). The path doesn't actually go up to the trig point at the top, and we likely wouldn't either, except that Phil had told us that it's the highest point in South Yorkshire and on that basis we felt obligated to take the detour.

All we had then to do was to drop down Cut Edge and along Mickleden Edge to find ourselves some pitches for the night.

My original plan for a pitch was abandoned when I saw how nice it looked alongside Mickleden Beck and so that's where we headed.

We're now waiting for a reasonably late hour before we pitch, after a very pleasing day indeed.
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Day 18 - Alport to Hathersage

(Photo: view down to Bakewell, early in the day, from above Haddon Hall)

Fri 9 Apr
Distance: 16 miles (Tot: 321)
Number of people on Froggatt Edge: 423 (approx)

Oink (as I have always called my uncle - I have no idea why) got up extra early on his day off this morning to cook us breakfast*, which set us up nicely to be striding out again just after 8am.

The day seemed to start rather slowly, perhaps because we had to walk a mile and a half around the houses (or "right round the Wrekin" if you're from the Midlands) to get less than half a mile up the driveway of Haddon Hall.

Things then got a tiny bit faster as we pulled steeply up through some woodland and then across fields on easy terrain.

Before we reached the delightful Edensor we had excellent views over Chatsworth, and the sun was starting convincingly to burn through the high haze.

The manicured grounds of Chatsworth gave a bit more easy walking (and Mick couldn't help but think that on such manicured grounds there should be a golf course!) - and also saw us saying "hello" to dozens of people strolling along, most of whom tried their hardest to ignore us.

The pull out of Baslow, up to Baslow Edge seemed to be almost verticle, but perhaps that was an illusion based on having stopped for a shopping-faff just before we headed up the hill, combined with the growing heat of the day.

Baslow Edge was absolutely gorgeous, and it was up there that we heard feet running behind us and the words "let me make a donation". After a chat with mom and daughter of the family we had just passed, we carried on with smiles on our faces and a spring in our steps at such a pleasing encounter (and if you're reading this, we're sorry we didn't ask your name so that we could thank you more personally).

By the time we got onto Froggatt Edge we were flying, making up for earlier dawdling. Hoards of people were up there too - and quite rightly, as where else should one be if in the area on such a lovely day? The views were stunning, the gritstone rocks shapely and the terrain pleasing indeed. All in all it was a good place to be.

Nothing lasts forever though, and at the end of the edge we dropped down to follow the river to Hathersage. We could have taken a higher route, but the riverside was pleasant enough and it allowed us to go through the town, without diversion, to pick up provisions for the next couple of days.

Just a short stroll of a mile or so took us to North Lees Campsite, where we found a 'Site Fully Booked' sign and that Phil, Dave and John (see previous post) had also ignored it and pitched anyway. Of course, I was my usual nervous self as we pitched Susie, without permission, at the thought of being thrown off at an inconvenient hour of evening. Happily the office has just opened and we're now all legitimate, so I can relax and enjoy a long evening (we arrived at 1530).

So, another fantastic day enjoyed, and rumour has it that this good weather is sticking around for a while.

(*thank you Oink and family (particularly to George for giving up his bed for us))
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A Scream of Banshees

Arriving at North Lees Campsite we find (from left to right) Phil, Dave and John (ex-colleagues of Mick's from Ferranti who have joined us for the weekend) with their matching Vango Banshee tents.
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Day 17 - Beyond Thorpe to Alport

Thurs 7 April
Distance: 15 miles (ish) (Tot: 305)

What a glorious day!

After something of a nippy night we woke up to a clear blue sky this morning, for which we have to thank Martin (phreerunner.blogspot.com). We call it the 'Phreerunner Effect', as far more often than not, when Martin is present the weather will be good.

Our other companion for the day was Jeff, who camped on the site with us last night, and at just after 8am we all set out, shunning the easy walking of the Tissington Trail (a disused rly converted for leisure use) to instead head uphill across fields.

Despite the perils of combining chatting and navigating, one or another of us managed to spot the correct turns and so having enjoyed the views up on the higher ground, we dropped down to follow Wolfscote Dale, then Biggin Dale.

Absolutely stunning it was, made even better by a second breakfast break in glorious sunshine and involving Caramel Chocolate Shortbread (thank you Sue!).

No part of the day lacked in prettiness. The dales were stunning under the blue skies, the views on the lumpier bits were mightily fine, and the villages couldn't be faulted either.

If you read Martin's blog then you'll probably be led to believe that two pubs featured in the day, managing to string out a sensibly short mileage into a full length day. So intent were we on a leisurely day that we even waited for the pub in Biggin to open, killing the ten minutes by polishing off the rather tasty sandwiches that Martin had very thoughtfully made for us (thank you Martin - with the excellent weather and the consumables, you can come walking with us again!).

The route taken today was an improvement on what I had originally plotted (which is how we walked further than intended for a shorter mileage (if that makes sense?!), and as part of that improvement we found ourselves walking down the river to Youlgrave this afternoon. Martin had promised that we would see fish and ducks along that section, and so we did in the delightfully clear pools.

Reaching the village, I found Youlgrave Youth Hostel was as I remebered it, having stayed there on a school trip when I was 10.

Youlgrave is also where Jeff left us(having a B&B booked in the village), and shortly afterwards Martin's lift arrived too.

By ourselves and with a short wait for my uncle, we figured that rather than staying in the pub we may as well continue walking into tomorrow's mileage, reaching beyond Alport before we were picked up.

So tonight we're being sociable with my uncle and family (who are putting us up tonight, which was a bit of a surprise to them as it seems that I had inadvertently told them that tomorrow was the night we would be here).
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New Kit

Forgot to mention the other (more significant) change. A call to Backpackinglight.co.uk last week meant a parcel for me at the weekend, the main content of which was an OMM Trio Chestpouch.

It adds more weight and I was entirely unconvinced as to whether I would like it in use - but it did seem to be the answer to my constant changing of hats and gloves without having to keep taking my pack off.

Jury's still out as to whether I'll stick with it or whether it will stay in Halifax when we pass through next week, but I thought it worth a try.

The parcel also contained more Gehwol Footcream (a gorgeous luxury at the end of each day) to see us through to the end of the trip, and a new stuffsack (I've shuffled us a size in my two 'bits and pieces' bags). The bonus in the parcel was two packets of Skittles Crazy Sours. Oh, how I enjoyed my pack as we walked along yesterday!
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Kit Changes

It was always intended that we would swap Wendy for Susie (assuming that all readers are now familiar with who Wendy and Susie are). Wendy may appeal with her low weight (which is how she made it into the bag for the first fortnight), and may have a huge floor area, but Susie now feels palatial in comparison with her head-room and arm-waving space.

With the luxury of choice whilst we were home, I also made a few other kit substitutions:

My Thermarest NeoAir Short was ousted in favour of my Prolite 3 (girls model). I was getting used to the short length of my NeoAir, but really couldn't be doing with the tacky surface which meant that to turn over in the night I had to wake up and bounce around to get my bag to come with me. After a night on my Prolite I can say that what it loses in squishy comfort it makes up for in delightful slipperiness. It won't have added too much weight to my pack either, as the Prolite has taken the place of the backpanel in my OMM pack.

Primus windshield substituted for silver foil windshield. The Primus windshield may look sexier, but using it with our Coleman F1 stove left a gap between the windshield and pan, and although it wasn't a big gap, use in breezy conditions suggested that a bit of tin foil would do the job better. It also allows me to put the gas canister inside of my pot, which wasn't possible with the windshield.

Thermawrap sitmat swapped for closed cell sitmat - a minor (and intended) change and one adding a little weight but lots of comfort for those rest stops (the main problem with the Thermawrap being its slidiness).

As for Mick, the only change he's made is his shoes (Salomon XA Pro changed for Fastpackers).
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Day 16 - Uttoxeter to beyond Thorpe

Wed, 7 April
Distance: 15 miles (tot: 290 miles)
Number of non-killer dogs that I mistook for killer dog in a completely panicked way: 1

What a lovely day!

It didn't start off too well. As I woke to the alarm at 6am, it was to the sound of a violently dripping gutter. Looking out of the rain-streaked window, I had to wonder what had happened to the fine day that all of the weather forecasts had promised us.

"It'll have stopped by the time we get back to Uttoxeter" I promised, and so it had - albeit only because of the delays getting there.

Those delays originated with the bus journeys, which verged on a farce. Having been duly stood outside the house at the allotted time, the bus didn't arrive. For 25 minutes we stood there, then it was decided that our best bet was to walk down to the village where another bus also runs.

We did eventually reach Burton, just 1 minute after the Uttoxeter bus had left, so having checked the location of the bus stop and the timetable, off for a cup of tea we went.

When the Uttoxeter bus hadn't arrived within ten minutes of its time, it was starting to get a bit annoying. Then we overheard a conversation and it transpired that due to a road closure somewhere in the town, the bus had been rerouted and wasn't starting at the bus station. A bit of signage would have been useful.

When we did find a cryptic sign, we were informed that we needed to be at the stop outside of the Royal Bank of Scotland. No road name. No map as to where that may be. We set off on foot to find it and an hour later than planned finally found ourselves on our bus (and hearing other people talking, it seemed the one before hadn't arrived at all, so we'd lost nothing by our chase around town).

All of that meant that it was 10.45 by the time we set out from Uttoxeter, which is rather later than we would choose to be starting our day.

It wasn't even 11 o'clock when we spotted the big barriers, the crane lifting a bridge into place and the "Path Closed" signs. Oh this wasn't funny!

Having found that we could very easily get around the closure (the bridge not actually being on the path) I'm pleased to say that the rest of the day was rather good.

The green farmland gradually became more undulating and less manicured, and whilst the sun didn't beat down on us all day, it did make a few appearances.

From the dizzy heights of the lumpy bits (we hit an altitude of 270 metres today - by far the highest we've been so far on this trip!), the views were superb and got more and more so the further we progressed along the Limestone Way.

Not all of the route was new to us today. I had walked the stretch to Ellastone with Geoff (www.litehikersblog.blogspot.com) when he walked his LEJOG last year. As we approached Thorpe everything started to look familiar to me too, although Mick had no such recollection. It was when I saw the hotel marked on the map (the Peveril of the Peak) with a firing range immediately behind it that I realised where we were and confirmed that we had indeed walked the locale a couple of times before.

The late start meant a late finish for such a reasonable length of day and we arrived at Ashbourne Heights campsite more than ready to stop.

Being greeted by name in the reception was a bit of a surprise, as we hadn't booked, but it turned out that Jeff (who has come to join us for a couple of days) had arrived before us and pre-announced our arrival.

Having described what we are doing the campsite kindly donated the pitch-fee to Help for Heroes, and in chatting also mentioned a LEJOGer who stayed last week. "Was it Sue Oxley?" I asked, and they confirmed that it was.

We're now ensconced in Susie Superlite (our TN Voyager Superlite - we like Susie!), looking out at a clear blue sky (cold tonight then!) and looking forward to our tea which will be rehydrated and ready to eat any moment now.

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Shoes

Over the first two weeks of this walk we averaged 18.75 miles per day. Most things stood up well to what I initially considered to be ridiculous mileages (but after the fact have adjudged those distances to have been fine (Mick may beg to differ!)).

The one problem I did find was that on Day 3 my left achilles fell out with my shoe, particularly when going down hill. It became bruised, swollen and painful, but with a regime of Movelat gel, oral Ibuprofen and (most importantly) a week of flat terrain it was doing okay.

Arriving home on Saturday not only gave it a day off, but also gave me the chance to try some different footwear that wouldn't clash with the tendon.

So, on Sunday I set out in (perhaps the odd choice, considering the issue) a pair of mids. My thinking was that as the heel cup of the mids moulded straight over the aggravated area there would be no issue of the shoe prodding the tendon on every step.

That hope was dashed within 200 yards of leaving Tamworth rly station. Fortunately, I had gone armed with a second pair of shoes.

Quite how I still came to be in possession of a pair of Inov8 Terrocs, I really don't know.

I initially bought them some years ago when everyone was first raving about Inov8. I wore them on a few outings, but found that (a) I couldn't live with cold wet feet (it took me a while longer to discover waterproof socks); and (b) the durability was awful - with just over 100 miles on them I had worn a hole through the back of each heel. They got relagated to the 'short local walks' shoe collection.

When I wore them on a short local walk the holes in the heel cup lining ate holes in my feet. I swore they were going in the bin as soon as we got home. I'm sure I even remember taking them out to the bin.

The evidence would suggest that as I went to bin them I had in my mind the thought that they would come in handy for something someday, as on Saturday I found them still lurking in the shoe pile. They turned out to be the only one of my 14 pairs of outdoor shoes that were cut low enough not to press on the sore area.

Some Duck Tape solved the problem of the holes on the heel linings and they were called back into service for the last two days.

After a successful 18 miles in them on Monday, it looked like the only sensible thing to do to ensure a continued comfortable walk was to buy another pair, to meet me in Halifax (trusting the old pair would last another seven days to get me there), and to hope the new pair would prove durable enough to see me up to Kilsyth.

Part of that plan went awry as we were about to dash out for the bus this morning, when I noticed something hanging off the bottom of a sole. That something was part of the tread, and with the bus due any moment I didn't have time for any detailed consideration of what to do for the best.

Today, for better or worse, I am back in the XA Pros which caused the issue in the first place (although I have been wearing the same make and model daily for the last couple of years without a problem). Hopefully next Tuesday I will be in possession of a new pair of Terrocs. Hopefully they'll last a few weeks, and then hopefully my achilles will be sufficiently recovered to wear my boots for the really lumpy bit of the journey. That's a lot of hoping, isn't it?
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Day 15 – Rugeley to Uttoxeter

Tuesday, 7 April

Distance: 11.75 miles

Number of Stiles: about 2050 (or so it seemed)

There was no repetition of the failure-to-set-alarm-oversleeping incident this morning, which was a good thing in that we had people to meet.

Those people were Stephen, Mike and Sam, all of whom used to work with Mick, and so it was as a party of five that we set out from Rugeley to tackle the Staffordshire countryside up to Uttoxeter.

Not wanting to return to the canal to pick up the Staffs Way, local field paths transported us more directly to pick it up in Colton, from where we were to follow it for the rest of the day.

Stiles were the definite theme. Unfeasible numbers of the things. Sometimes with two being put in to clear a single field boundary, and many of them just a little bit higher than a stumpy-legged person (like me) would like.

Stockwell Heath has always struck me as a very pretty place (having walked through it many times before), and today was no exception. We paused for a self-timer group-photo in front of the village pond before Sam, who was only able to join us for the first bit of the day, bade us farewell and turned right out of the village as we turned left.

(From left: Mike, Stephen, Sam, me and Mick)

A small deviation to the planned route at Blithfield Reservoir saw us walk over the dam rather than taking the Staffs Way route which runs below it – an option that was harder underfoot but gave much better views.

 

On reaching Abbots Bromley it was still too early for the pubs to refresh us, so hot cross buns were had on the benches on the little green, before we headed off for the Uttoxeter leg. The pubs didn’t miss out entirely, though; having reached the end of our day we returned to the village by car to refresh ourselves appropriately, and to find the Geocache that I had belatedly remembered was located exactly where I had been sitting earlier.

The second half of the day was just as pleasing as the first had been, as we chatted our ways along through the green landscape. Mainly green, I should say, as just as we approached Uttoxeter there were a few muddy path incidents, including this one (which wasn’t the worst of the day – the worst was one of those paths which is sandwiched in the 30 inch gap between two fences):

Being finished as early as we were, it was effectively a half-day today, giving us plenty of time this afternoon to sort out kit and wonder how all of the stuff that fitted perfectly well in my pack last week no longer fits at all…

People (Mainly)

Trevor, met by Rochester, poses with Mick as they show off their matching jackets and over-trousers

Enormously fluffy cat makes friends with Mick

With George, walking through Dartford

With a whole load of very still chaps at Woolwich

A trillion other tourists, with Westminster in the background

With Baz (and Harry the dog), on the Thames Path

With Karen on the Grand Union at Brentford (the tow-path goes through that building behind us!)

       Mick chats to the loudest donkey in the world (I’m surprised that people didn’t come running, with the racket it made when it saw us)

Of floaty things…

 Hi, it's Mick here again with a little note:

 

Many of the miles covered so far have been along the somewhat muddy canal tow-paths of England, which has made for rapid coverage of the miles but has lacked in the up-and-down of the hills. The canals themselves are filled with what essentially amounts to stagnant water – there may be thousands of miles of it but it is still stagnant so does not look very appealing. Added to this we noted a lot of dead, floaty things in the canals that do no belong there and, as is our wont, we kept count of them.  Today, as we departed from the canals of England at Rugeley, the count stood as follows:

• 1 dog (breed unknown);
• 1 Muntjac deer;
• 2 lambs;
• 2 pheasant (1 male, 1 female);
• 1 pigeon;
• 2 rabbits; and
• 3 foxes.

 

Oh, and one dead fish, but I would claim that the water is a natural place for it to die.

 

So, as we now start the traverse across countryside and on to the hills we will need to start looking for something else to list.  Any suggestions?

Day 14 – Tamworth to Rugeley

Monday, 5 April

Distance: 18.25 miles (Tot: 262.25 miles)

 

“What time is it?” asked Mick as we woke up this morning. I was just checking with the third time-telling device on my bedside table and had to conclude that they weren’t all wrong. “Twenty minutes before we’re due to be on a train” I said.

Top tip: when setting the time on your alarm clock, it’s always wise to also turn it on…

Still, we’d had an extra hour and a half’s sleep and it made absolutely no difference to our day to set out an hour later, and so that’s what we did. By 8.50 we were back at Tamworth train station (sporting just dinky day-packs today), walking through the town, past the castle and to the river which we were to follow for the first couple of miles of the day.

As exits from towns go, it wasn’t bad walking at all. The terrain was firm (not muddy!) and grassy, and beyond the first stile (before which there were runners and dog walkers) it was absolutely deserted. If you ignored the high-rises to our right, and the retail outlets a distance away to our left, you could believe we were already out in the sticks!

After a couple of miles we were pining for a bit more canal walking, so onto the Birmingham and Fazeley we went. Very pleasant it was too. The tow-path was good walking, and the surroundings were nicely litter-free. Hopwas Woods were looking fine with their bed of snow-drops too (so many woods we’ve passed have looked less than attractive in their winter garb):

The surrounding sights, from houses to nose at, farms packed with dozens of huge poly-tunnels (strawberry growers, was my guess), bridges with funny gated cupboards built in, all kept us diverted as we made our way along, marvelling that all of the weather forecasts had told us that we would get very wet this morning, and yet reality was showing no signs of imminent rain.

I had been initially confused as to what canal we were on. I knew that on Saturday we had left the Coventry to walk into Tamworth, and the map seemed to indicate that today we were joining the Birmingham and Fazelely. What was confusing me was that later the same canal, with no junction I could see, was marked as being, once again, the Coventry. All became clearer when we passed an old sign which confirmed that the canal did just suddenly switch name:

We’d not been back on the Coventry for too long before we left it to head off across fields by Lichfield, which is so close to home that for a while we were walking paths that we’ve previously used in training walks. It made navigation a non-issue such that progress was still made as swiftly as if we were still on a tow-path.

Passing along one of those paths was a bit of a smelly affair:

but mercifully almost all of the usual mud, which was fully in evidence a month ago, had dried up.

Our cross-country adventure ended when we reached the Trent and Mersey Canal (fifth canal of the trip so far), where in an adjacent field I saw the first rape in flower, heralding the beginning of the season of a patchwork green and yellow countryside.

This section of the Trent and Mersey we have walked any number of times before, but not for a while. Almost everything was as we remembered, and as always the most notable feature of the section is the huge works of Armitage Shanks (so many people are surprised to hear that Armitage Shanks really is based in Armitage), where there is always the sounds of activity, and where the yard is always full of an an unfeasible number of toilets and basins:

Thanks to a slight miscalculation on my part (or rather, I had accidentally misplaced the pub I had earmarked for lunch, which was careless given that we’ve stopped there so many times before), we walked 16 miles (at quite a lick) before lunch. Having indulged in just one short break (for Hot Cross Buns) during the morning, my feet were well and truly ready for a proper sit down.

Unsurprisingly, having walked 16 miles out of 18.25 before lunch, the second half of the day was short indeed. Well within an hour of setting out, we had finished our day and were heading back home for another night of homely luxury.

Day 13 – Ansty to Tamworth

Saturday 3 April

Distance: 21.5 miles (Tot: 244 miles)

Wendy last night

It was something of a novelty this morning, after 6 days of canal walking, to start the day by heading across farmland. The dew-soaked grass had the benefit of cleaning our shoes, and I was quite surprised to be reminded that mine are light grey rather than the deep brown to which I had become accustomed!

A few fields later, and after a crop field had added four pounds to the weight of our shoes (that mud was as clay-like as it gets), we were back on the canal – not the Oxford with its awful tow-paths, but the Coventry (our third, but far from last, canal of the trip). The tow-paths were in much better condition, but even maintenance can’t get around the problem of mud after days of rain.

I’d really like to share with you some startlingly interesting point of the day or news of some stunning view, but we were on our sixth day of canal walking and as inoffensive as much of it is, breath-taking views and exciting terrain (unless you count nearly mud-sliding into the canal as exciting) there is not.  There were plenty of craft pootling along, and quite a few people out walking – and more unfortunately dreadfully large amounts of litter as we passed through Nuneaton and Atherstone.

Atherstone was where a big groan was wrenched from us. The size of the barrier across the tow-path and overhanging the canal, displaying a ‘tow-path closed’ notice, precluded us swinging around it or climbing over in ignorance of its prohibition even though we felt reasonably sure that no work would be taking place on Easter weekend.

Instead, we found a route around, which also led us past a bench, which gave me the opportunity to remove the bit of grit which had been lodged between two of my toes for the previous couple of hours. Stupid really. I knew that bit of grit was there, and kept thinking “If I don’t get that out of there, I’ll get a blister”, and yet, as it wasn’t actually painful, I couldn’t quite be bothered to take the trouble to sit down and take my mud-covered shoe off (did I mention that mud was still a prevalent feature? Seems that it’s rained quite a bit this last week…). Of course, by the time the bench presented itself and I took the trouble to take my shoe off, I had a blister, albeit as soon as I’d removed the grit it caused me no trouble.

The diversion had us back on the canal shortly before the pub we had earmarked for lunch (big diversion for lunch today – must have been 100 yards off route!), where I was served the best chips I’ve had in a very long time (real chips, made of real potatoes, cooked to perfection and never having seen a freezer).

By the time we were approaching Tamworth the feet, knowing that a day off was approaching, started complaining loudly. We did the only thing we could and ignored them as we strode on all the way to the railway station.

A train and a bus and a walk (because we needed a bit more of a walk!) saw us through our own front door, and so I’m typing this from the comfort of my own sofa, looking forward to a very lazy day off tomorrow.

Happiness is...

There is happiness within Wendy. It's the little things, and tonight in the "will there be olives in my pasta sauce" lottery, we were both winners.

Rumour has it there's a bar of chocolate lurking somewhere for afters too.

What more does one need on a rainy night?
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Day 12 - Braunston to Ansty

Good Friday, 2 April
Distance: 20 miles (Tot: 222.5)
Number of canoeists seen in a day full of narrow boats: 1

On our original plan, as we left Braunston this morning we would have headed left at the canal junction, to continue along the Grand Union to Birmingham. Then I realised that route took us around three sides of a square, and so we went straight on instead, to join the Oxford Canal.

What a nightmare of a tow-path the Oxford turned out to have! To say that it was muddy would be a understatement of the conditions. The good bits were where it was just a mud-fest. The worse bits were where the tow path had fallen away into the canal; where it was a veritable quagmire; and (perhaps the worst) where the canal was leaking and flowing down the quagmire of a path. In a day that featured absolutely no ascent until the last mile, it added an element of effort (two steps forward, slide back, that sort of thing).

Whilst underfoot conditions were decidedly wet and slidey, weather conditions started much better than forecast.

The day-long persistent rain, that had us dreading a wet and miserable eight hours, didn't reach us until nearly 1pm (continuing a theme, the rain started whilst we were sitting in a pub). Even more happily the temperature was much more favourable too, with the wind having switched to a southerly.

Whilst the ground further deteriorated as the day went on (except for the bit of path which was supposed to be closed but which was actually freshly surfaced with crushed bricks - what a joyous five minutes as we passed along that bit!), the weather surprised us and by the time we were approaching Ansty (have you noticed that's a thinly veiled anagram of Nasty - although it didn't look a bad place to me) there was the hint of sun trying to get through the clouds.

Alas, the pub in Ansty, on which I had been setting my sights for a sit down and to fill up my water, turned out to be closed until this evening - a bit of a blow. We still took a few moments on their benches, before setting out across fields which we had optimisticly (and incorrectly) hoped would be drier than the tow path.

With nowhere to stay tonight, no water and with farms too close together to allow us easily to secrete ourselves out of sight, we only waded on for another mile before knocking on a farm door to beg a corner of a field for the night.
The immediate response was negative, as the farmer had lambs in every one of his fields, but he obliged with filling up our water bottles anyway. By the time he came back with them full, he had thought of a field we could use, albeit with the warning that "courting couples pull up in that gateway".

We've pitched well away from the gateway, and have managed to find a couple of square metres where water isn't standing (yet - the rain is coming down again as I type). Our companion tonight is the sound of the M69 (which we can see) and the M6, which should lull us off to sleep nicely.

I have plans for an early start in the morning, as after 21.5 miles of walking we're going to jump on a train that will take us home for our rest day on Sunday :-)
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Day 11 - Stoke Bruerne to Braunston

Thurs 1 April
Distance: 20.5 miles (Tot. 202.5)

It was after a fantastic breakfast that we left Dove Cottage this morning. Looking out of the window of our nice warm room I had been fooled, by the startling blue sky, into thinking it was going to be warmer out. Within moments of stepping out I realised that I had been mistaken. We were to spend another day beside a choppy canal, walking into a biting wind. That prospect was however cheered by the fact that in contrast to yesterday's greyness, this was a lovely day.

As days following canals go, this was to be a lumpy one. Not long after setting off Blisworth tunnel was met and as much as we would have liked to have gone through, we didn't fancy a 1.75 mile swim, so over the top we went.

All was then uneventful as we walked along, in close proximity to the train line, which was busy with traffic. The canal was reasonably busy too - all part of the great getaway for Easter?

Although early to stop for lunch in terms of mileage, when we found ourselves outside of a pub in Weedon Beck a bee-line was made for the warmth inside, to top up the energy levels (mine having been flagging a little this morning for no explicable reason).

The day had still been reasonably nice as we went inside, but by the time we came to leave it was grey, wet and miserable. We only made it ten paces before we decided that the rain wasn't going to pass and that waterproofs would be required.

It was a good call. Oh, that rain came down, driven by a head wind. All I saw for the next half an hour was the patch of grass in front of my feet as I kept my head down.

Even with heads down, we couldn't help but notice when we came alonsgside the M1. Up went the volume on the audio books (which were helping us along this afternoon) and then up went the outside noise as the canal became sandwiched between the motorway and the mainline. All those people in such a tearing hurry, compared to our sedate 3 miles an hour.

The rain did stop for a while, but had just started again when, bypassing the second tunnel of the day, we came to a 'Footpath Closed' sign. Not something you ever want to see, moreover 2 miles from the end of a 20 mile day.

Of course, we ignored the sign and found no impediment until about 100 yards from where we should have rejoined the tow-path. There we found great barriers blocking the way and heavy plant moving around in a way that suggested that trying to sneak through would be folly.

Into fields we went, to trespass our way around, which looked like it was going to be successful until we got to the obvious place to cross a fence, where a clear sign had been erected telling us that the land was private and we were to go no further.

Not wanting to trespass where such a clear sign had been erected to stop people like us from cutting through back to the canal, down the field we went to find an alternative route.

What did we find in the bottom corner of the field (an extraordinarily muddy field), but another sign, this time adding the information that dogs were running free and to cross the fence was to put ourselves in danger of a savage mauling (okay, I may have added the last bit, but it did warn of dogs running free).

There was no way I was backtracking a mile to find an alternative route, so judging that the killer dog warning was false, and with the towpath only about 20 yards away from us, we hurried though the deep mud, figuring that if you're going to trespass then it's best to minimise the duration.

Slithering down a bank, back onto the towpath we tumbled, only to find that we were still a few yards short of the closure hoarding at this end. And we were being watched closely by the British Waterways chaps working just up from where we had landed. Without hesitation we approached the hoarding and swung ourselves around it (perilously overhanging the canal in the process).

Now within ten minutes of our B&B for the night (scant few campsites on the route around here, and given the weather I'm not sorry to be taking the soft option), we made haste in the rain, with heavy shoes caked in the mud through which we had just waded.

At the risk of sounding like we're on some sort of glorified pubcrawl, we're now ensconced in a pub for tea, and at the further risk of ending this abruptly, I need to post this now before my dying battery gives out (no signal at the B&B to plug in and post later).
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Day 10 Photo

Ooops - forgot the photo again.

It wasn't a great day for photos, and I even managed to get my overmitt in the way of this one. Still, it shows the lovely grassiness of the latter parts of today's tow path.
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Day 10 - Stoke Hammond to Stoke Bruerne

Wed, 31 March
Distance: 17.5 (Tot: 182 miles)
Number of fishermen seen before 8am: 13

It was a dark and stormy night and the rain came down in torrents...

Actually, between the rain it was quite a light night as the sky cleared and the moon shone brightly.

All the way through it was windy though; a wind which fairly howled through the tent.

On the plus side, there was no condensation this morning as a result. On the down side there was quite a bite to that wind, so as it whistled through it whipped away all of the heat we were generating.

Getting out of the snuggly sleeping bag this morning was therefore something of a wrench, but was made better by having commandeered the toilet block for breakfast and packing.

With full waterproofs on (for warmth as much as for wetness) we headed back to the canal, agreeing that what the campsite lacked in value for money it made up for in location, as it really was within 100 yards of our route.

One bridge later we were surprised to come across a catch (or whatever the collective noun is) of fishermen. An angling competition we gathered, with an early start.

Fishing/angling (sorry, but I have no idea which is the correct term) must be akin to backpacking for the potential to be a gear freak. All of these old chaps had set-ups that looked impressive, most of them also having motorised trolleys to transport it all along the tow-path.

A couple of miles further on, we put into action our 'the weather's cold and miserable and it would be quite nice to knock an hour off the day' plan (which explains why we walked 17.5 miles instead of the intended 20). Instead of following the canal around Milton Keynes, we cut across the town.

Considering that most of Milton Keynes is built on a grid system, and considering that all we needed to do was to follow one road all the way through, it should have been an easy thing to do. The complicating factor was that MK doesn't have traditional British pavements; instead it has walk/cycle ways which run one side of the road or the other. At each intersection of roads there is a roundabout for the cars and a maze of under-passes for those travelling under their own steam.

Just to add a bit of confusion, every now and then, at a set of underpasses, the path would switch sides of the road, but with no indication that if you carried on as you were, you'd end up accidentally turning left or right. It certainly kept us on our toes (only once did we nearly wander off in the wrong direction), and with all of the underpass-detours some of the saved mileage was negated.

Making it back to the canal just beyond a windmill, we only had a couple or so miles until we had earmarked a pub as a warming-up point. As it went, that pub was a short detour off the canal, so we continued half a mile further until the Navigation Inn was found where we stayed for an unreasonable length of time.

Back out to the (now rather choppy) canal, it was back to hoods-up-heads-down (not that it was raining often, it was just so darned cold in that headwind), so not an awful lot was seen.

What we couldn't help but notice was that the tow-path had ceased to be the paved surface which had prevailed for much of the last couple of days, and had become a delightful grass surface. Obviously little used, mud was not an issue even on this damp day.

Having avoided stopping in the cold wind, we arrived at our B&B (Dove Cottage) in Stoke Bruerne earlier than expected, giving us an bonus hour of rest.

With a lack of originality in naming canalside pubs, we're now in our second pub named 'The Navigation' of the day (and Alan, there is a beer in my hand).

For tomorrow we're looking forward to seeing the mileposts count down to zero on our approach to Braunston. It doesn't seem possible that on Sunday those mileposts were up in the nineties.

(Geoff - per your request, I've added the day of the week (that took a bit of thinking about - I've lost track!) and the cumulative mileage. I'm not counting down the distance to go, but FYI the total is going to be somewhere approaching 1000 miles.
Martin - now you mention it, the breeze did pick up yesterday afternoon. I just forgot to mention it at the time.
Odyssee - there are a huge number of local footpaths to choose from towards Ogden, aren't there? Part of that bit of the route are stolen from a route Martin did last year, and, off the top of my head, part of the Calderdale Way features too - I shall endeavour to describe it in more detail at the time.)
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