The Ridgeway – Day 2

Day two was such a nice day everyone, really it was. Well, for me it was.

I slept very badly, or, very little. My stupid pillow kept slipping off my stupid slippy air bed, I kept slipping down the very slight hill I was responsible for us camping on and I kept waking with a start thinking Winnie was too hot and then too cold. Meanwhile Kai, motionless and slip-less snored on into the night.

By 6:30 ish Winnie was towering over me like a dinosaur demanding to be fed then walked. Situation normal.

We were up and about and madam was seen to in the absolute fullness of time.

The morning was glorious. I’d made a point of not lecturing Kai on the inner workings of mine and Snakes obsessive schedule when it comes to these trips, so as to create a new vibe and routine to the day.

Nonetheless there’s only a few ways these things can go, and we were packed and ready to move by 7am. Winnie finished the dehydrated dog food she usually dislikes without question.

We finished the hill we started yesterday in the glory of the morning sunrise.

I had low hopes for this trail being impressive and so far it’s been extremely enjoyably, very varied and the colours ! Oh my the colours! Did I mention the berries ?

For those of you who don’t know what a ‘mast’ year is: It’s when trees or shrubs produce an unusually large number of fruits or seeds. They do this every three to five years or so. It’s a way of allowing wildlife to feast on the huge bountiful supply of food while ensuring enough seeds survive predation to continue their own life cycle in the sowing of their seeds. The sloe berries are sweeter than usual, bulbous and abundant. The acorns are labouring the tree branches and cornus berries are plethoric. Yew berries are popping off tree’s tantalisingly looking like Haribo (they’re not Haribo children and they will kill you). All the apple look like Sleeping beauty apples. Oh it’s just great guys.

Also the smells at this time of year are joyful. Inexplicably joyful.

We walked through fresh, sheep filled fields in the early light, ambled down tracks and driveways and gorped at houses we each agreed we’d happily live in, we met some folk also walking the trail but heading in the opposite direction, and we were frequently told that Winnie had great hair and was indeed very clever in carrying all her things.

Winnie the poodle was in need of a drink, which was handy as we were nearing a tap at 5.5 miles on the day. This was provided by the local ‘centre of outdoor access’ which happened to be directly on trail. We stopped here for a freshen up, some pain relief and some much needed coffee. We arrived in time to be invited to use the loos by the woman in charge. I thought this was particularly nice as we undoubtedly stank and looked like we needed a shower.

Kai is feeling the burn a little and seeing as his hip flexor is relearning how to make his legs move again after his entire left leg was bent back to his face while they put a new hip in, he’s doing exceptionally well. Brave boy.

https://www.justgiving.com/page/kai-pinnell-ridgeway

The coffee was rejuvenating, Winnie was told, (yet again) that her hair is exceptional, so she was cheered, we enjoyed bathroom access and bins and then we continued our walk on beautiful isolated tracks in the increasingly warm sun.

We met a nice lady whose life appeared to be in a very small rucksack on her back and an even smaller shoe bag strung around her neck. She was happy to talk, Probabaly forever. She was likely in her mid 60’s and worked as a live-in carer contractually. When the contract ends she walks long trails. I’m confident she’s smiling 100% of the time. She said she’s too old to camp, but also too old to effectively use the internet to book anything so tends to turn up in a place and just ask people where she can stay.

So now I have my retirement plan.

Save for the live-in carer bit.

We walked on, up and over another steep ridge and before long we came to a bench surrounded by a church and a churchyard. Lovely. I filled my face with a mega baguette and Kai ate the sad little wrap he’d bought the day before. He must learn the hard way. We took off our shoes. Winnie had a tin of fish.

From here we had a few miles to the next church where the nice carer lady had informed us that there is cake. She was not wrong and on arrival we were welcomed by a kettle and some very cute homemade cupcakes. In walked a man named Nick, who shared his recent tragedy losing his 80 year old mother in law to suicide. https://www.justgiving.com/page/kai-pinnell-ridgeway

We left a donation and left Nuffield church, climbing the hill up onto Grim’s ditch , a name shared by a number of prehistoric bank and ditch artworks across Britain. ‘Grim’ is a name shrouded in mystery but is thought to come from Norsemen (as a given name) or Anglo-Saxons (as a name for an unexplained mysterious feature). Ditch is from the old English ‘deek’ (meaning ditch obvs.).

Like a lot of theory’s relating to the purpose of prehistoric structures, we don’t know why it was built. We could link it to the giants like the druids always seemed to, whenever things were too impossible to comprehend or perhaps it was a demarcation of land, or used for defence purposes – who the hell knows?

It was a lovely walk across the top of the ditch which is rugged and jungley and has trees now growing out of it. Part way, there was a water tap attached to a house, for walkers to use, next to this a box of apples for the taking- how nice.

We descended Grim’s Ditch and came upon the river Thames, which, out of the pollutants of London and its 7 million inhabitants runs crystal clear. It’s also beautiful and wild and full of life, as is any river out of town. We followed the banks and admired the houses which sat upon them for a few miles befor we were stopped in our tracks by this very demanding sign;

We felt this was a sign not to be messed with. It was 4:30pm we’d walked 20 miles and we were 2 miles from our destination; which was a church porch in a nearby village. The weather was to be bad overnight and so we aimed for this as a shelter and hoped it would be available and accessible. Naturally setting a bed up in the porch church is better done later in the day lest we become obsticles for worship, so we took the opportunity to use up some time in the bar of the golf club. Woe is us.

This is the first time I’ve ***ever*** enjoyed being on a golf course

Onward for the last beautiful two miles to South Stoke and St Andrews church – still following the banks of the Thames , glorious in the early evening sun.

We made it by 6:30 – the church had a lovely porch, handily situated so as not to be seen from the road. The main door was locked which told us the warden had done his (it was a him) duty for the evening. The porch only had saloon gates, no outer doors, so we easily accessed the recess. We sat in silence on the pews until 7pm when we deemed it a suitable hour and suitable light to make the space our little home for the evening.