In early February 2013 I took some time off my Moonwalk training and went exploring one of the trails I’d passed on my travels, just to see where it led. It turned out to be quite a find leading me along a little stream through a ribbon of woodland right in the centre of the suburbs. It would become one of my favourite walks in the months and years to come. This was the first time I walked it.
4 February 2013
Commando’s compression shorts were in a heap at the top of the stairs when I got up this morning. I picked them up to throw them in the washing machine as he’d obviously dropped them last night. Good job I did. Half way down the stairs I noticed there was a light on in the gym and I could just hear the muffled sounds of breakfast TV. CJ was up and, more to the point, I was half way down the stairs wearing nothing but an I Love My Matiz t-shirt (not a particularly long one either), I don’t think he’d have appreciated the sight of my bare bum over his cornflakes somehow! So I stopped and put on the only thing to hand, the compression shorts. Amazingly they fit! I hope I haven’t stretched them.
Disaster averted. I’d forgotten today was the first day of CJ’s work experience as a plumbers mate which was why he was up so early. He seemed quite cheerful which is odd because he’s normally a real grumpy guts first thing in the morning. He even made me a coffee. Maybe he’s looking forward to doing something more interesting than sitting in a classroom talking about doing things. This job is all part of the government’s master plan to cut the numbers of out of work young people, getting them to do unpaid work for local firms. I’m not sure it’s going to get him a job but at least it’s getting him some much needed experience and, from the government’s point of view, it makes the unemployment figures look a bit better for a few weeks.
The sun was shining, well, in between the black clouds anyway, and the weather forecast was dry so it seemed an opportune time for a quick walk. This would not be Moonwalk Training and it felt quite good to have freedom to roam at will. There are quite a few little footpaths I’ve seen on my travels and wondered about so I thought I’d explore one, seeing as I didn’t have any agenda and it didn’t really matter if I got lost or things didn’t work out quite how I expected.
Millers Pond was my off road starting point so I set off down Spring Road feeling quite carefree and cheerful. It felt good to be wandering and exploring without a single thought in my head about speed, distance or time. Just putting one foot in front of the other and enjoying the unexpected feel of sunshine on my face, cold sunshine of course but welcome nonetheless. I wore my Skechers boots, a little more waterproof than trainers and, unlike Wellies, comfortable. I had the new tunes on my iPod which was lovely after all the doom and gloom yesterday afternoon when everything got wiped after I synced.
Last time I saw the pond it was frozen, with snow on the ice in the middle. It’s thawed since then and a wood pigeon was sitting on the rail of one of the viewing platforms. There was another one in the bushes close by, possibly its mate. People give pigeons a bad press because the ferral ones on the streets scavenge for scraps and making a mess everywhere. Wood pigeons are a whole different breed though. The ferral pigeon comes from domestic pigeons that have reverted to the wild, their origins are sea cliffs and mountains, hence all the nesting on the ledges of tall buildings. Wood pigeons nest in trees and, as their name implies, live in woods, usually near water. I stopped for a moment to watch the pigeon watching me until it decided it didn’t like me being so close and flew off, then I set off along the path.
There were a few people walking dogs or, like me, just walking, bought out by the blue sky I suppose. Instead of marching, I strolled looking around at the trees and the sky. When I came to the open grassy area I noticed a concrete bunker I’d not spotted before. It must have been there all along but I’d probably been too busy worrying about speed. I decided to have a closer look, thinking it might be something interesting, maybe a war time shelter. Obviously I’ve spent far too many hours wandering around the woods in Normandy where there are bunkers round every bend. It turned out to be a pair of drains, so not very interesting at all.
Not long after this I came to the end of the tarmac path. There were some rather large
puddles on the grass which didn’t bode well but a woman walking that way looked like she knew where she was going. She was wearing normal walking boots. Turned out she didn’t know any more than I did. The path was fine at first, mainly leaf mould but under this there were patches of mud I had to skirt around by pressing myself up tight to the bushes. When the woman came back towards me, obviously fed up with the muddy conditions, I knew I was coming up to a little lane so I pressed on hoping it would be better on the other side where the ground was a little higher.
Before long I came to a wooden bridge over a ditch that led me to the lane. My boots were still relatively clean at this point. Once I crossed the lane I was back in woods, although there were houses just visible between the trees. The sun was streaming between the branches and the path wasn’t too muddy, mainly gravel at this point. There were a few places where I had to step carefully to avoid the mud but nothing too bad. After a while the path widened out and got much drier just as I’d hoped. To my right the ground sloped quite sharply downwards and I thought I could see the glint of water between the trees.
When I came to a fork I stopped and checked WalkJogRun to see which way to go. There is a massive advantage to having satellite maps at the touch of a button. When I came to another road, I knew exactly were I was, at the top of Bunny Hill and I was glad to see the woodland path continued across the road. Bunny Hill is a steep hill down followed by another steep hill going back up. I don’t even like going up and down in a car because it’s a bit like a roller coaster ride and I usually leave my stomach somewhere about half way down. My calves wouldn’t have thanked me if I’d had to walk up and down that for sure.
The path looked dryish at first although it still dipped down sharply to my right. After a while I came to a side path running down to a little stream. Shortly afterwards my own path turned sharply down towards the water. There was an elderly man in the undergrowth cutting wood and he stopped to say hello to me. I wonder what he wanted the wood for, his fire perhaps? Now I was pretty close to the stream and the going was getting wetter and wetter. It was becoming harder to get round the puddles and my boots were a bit on the muddy side. A little wooden bridge crossed the stream and led to some houses. Although I didn’t want to cross I did go to the middle and have a closer look at the stream. It was wider than I’d expected, probably because of all the rain we’ve had.
Going back to the path, which now ran right beside the stream, I carried on. It seemed like every few yards there was another bridge leading up to the houses now. If the path became impassable, I could always turn back and get back to the road. I stopped for a moment to examine a fallen tree sporting the most wonderful growth of fungus, took photos, then carried on. After a while the trees receded to my left and there were quite wide areas of grass. When I came to a very large mud puddle I decided to walk across the grass to avoid it. This almost led to me ending up on my arse. The grass looked firm enough but it was deceptively boggy underneath. I was slipping and sliding all over the show, flailing my arms, very close to actually losing my balance. After that I left the grass well alone and squelched through the mud as best I could, trying to keep to the driest bits.
Suddenly there were no more trees to my left, just houses and I could see a playground ahead. On the other side there was a proper path with benches alongside. Looking at the map I could see it came out on a street a little way from where I wanted to be that led in completely the wrong direction. On closer inspection there was a faint track leading off the other way though and it seemed to go between the trees so I thought I’d give it a try and see where it took me. When I reached the trees the path was clearer and what’s more it was dry and gravelly.
By a stroke of luck the new path led further than I thought. It went alongside the main road a little way before coming to an abrupt halt at a wooden fence beside a clump of honesty pods that must have escaped from a nearby garden. So it was back to the road with my muddy boots about a mile from the village. As ever, the road included hills, starting with a nice up hill stretch with not a tree in sight. I was feeling sorry to have left the woods behind but, as I reached the crest of the hill, a very apt advertising hoarding for Cancer Research reminded me why I started all this walking in the first place, even if today wasn’t an official Moonwalk training walk.
After that it was down the hill past the aptly named Muddy Bottom Allotments. I stopped for a moment to peer through the fence at all the little plots, wondering what they were growing and dreaming of all the things I would grow if I had one. One even had chickens, I could hardly believe my eyes. My Dad used to keep birds when I was little, we had an aviary at the bottom of the garden where the veg plot and shed are now. When I was small I often used to go inside and feed the birds, no ornithophobia for me. I even had some orange canaries called Red Factors of my own and a pair of Zebra Finches called Salt and Pepper. Dad was the Chairman of the Hampshire Caged Birds Society and we used to go to bird shows. We never had chickens though. Imagine all those fresh eggs!
At the top of the hill and almost back in the village, there were houses with little gardens beside the road. One pretty little cottage had snowdrops growing and a porch with stained glass windows. Further on there were some dried out Hydrangea heads, like old lace where the petals had begun to skeletonise. They add so much interest to the garden, even in winter. In no time at all I was walking past my own little church towards home. The total distance was four and three quarter miles and it took me about two hours. Not the most impressive for speed or distance I know but certainly one of the most cheerful for a long while.
