The Ridgeway – Day 4

We woke to the comfort of our little tent home, the fairly lights clattering up the central pole all night in the relentless, howling winds. Winnie was Sparko and enjoyed having her own bed, until 3am when she had a bad dream and climbed onto my single cot. Sweet girl.

We made coffee, abluted and packed up slowly. Aches and pains now setting in and the long evening rest now having little affect on throbbing feet and Kai’s big fat blister (and man chafe). Oh, and he burnt his only pair of good walking socks by the fire. Poor boy. https://www.justgiving.com/page/kai-pinnell-ridgeway

We set out back up the path we’d hobbled in on and re-joined the trail within half a mile. We were back on the undulating ridge, charging upwards through mixed broadleaf pockets of forest and wild hedgerows, with the intermittent exposed vista in which we would be smacked, full pelt by the wind.

Wind has been the theme of this trip, not Kai farting, he’s too much of a gent for that sort of behaviour, but the big almighty headwinds we’ve been forcing our way through. Nonetheless there’s enough to cheer us in the plethora of apple trees which frequently pop up in the hedges. We take advantage when we can.

The day unfolded as a windy, westerly, hard-pack track, undulating trail with the miles slowly ticking by. It definitely felt like a slog as the wind slowed us to about 2.5mph.

Kai has some shin pain now, and his good hip is starting to remind him how hard it’s worked over the years compensating for the bad one, by being a naughty little twinger, crying out for some attention.

Given that it’s his first multi-day backpacking trip, we’ve jumped into 20/22 mile days and his gear is that of a 14 year old boy on his bronze Dofe, he’s doing remarkably well. He also insists on carrying 3 litres of water at all times to my 1. https://www.justgiving.com/page/kai-pinnell-ridgeway

By 5 miles we made a rare left / northbound turn to ‘Wayland Smithy’.

I first came here for my A-level archaeology field trip in which cider and boys were my main interest. Now, many years on, and with no particular interest in either of those things, I can really appreciate the Neolithic long barrow for its place in history.

Named after a Saxon king ‘Wayland’ a German smith-god in Norse mythology, it was likely named by the Saxons who settled some 4,000 years after it was built. Completed in 3430BCE during a revolutionary period in history when agricultural lifestyles were adopted, it’s thought 14 bodies were interred here. It’s one of the best examples of these barrows remaining. The site has been used as a ritual site in modern paganism since the 20th century. “For the greater good.”

Since the 1960’s the deposition of coins into the area’s stones has taken place, with the site’s warden being tasked with continually removing the stupid coins and donating the money to charity.

Imagine if we all rammed coins into random grave stones in churchyards.

This would never do.

But to be fair, neither would standing on top of them and posing for a photo.

At 6 miles we found the pork van.

But alas, there was no pork.

There was a bin, some chairs, a water tap and a table which was more than enough for this happy vegetarian, unfortunately Kai really had his heart set on porky goods.

After crossing the M4 we slogged up a windy section of busy road (there isn’t much road walking at all on this trail, thankfully) we peeled off to slog once again into the wind up a steep hill and back to the desolate lands of the downs. Beautifully bleak.

We turned off trail to reach the village of Ogbounrne Saint George and our last option for water until the end of the trail. I’d called ahead to ‘The Well Guesthouse’ in town, (formally the pub), to ask if they would be an option for food or somewhere we could top up our water in town. Given that this was the imagine on their website, I wasn’t sure:

Naturally, I was hoping he would say “yes”, or worst case say “just pop in here and we’ll give you some water”. Instead, he let out a deep sign, suggesting I was the billionth phone call to ask this same question. And repeatedly and rather despairingly said “no, no, no”

I then asked if there was anywhere in town for water, or serving food?

“No, nowhere”

“How about the golf club?”

“Oh, yeah, they do”

So we went to our second, extremely friendly golf course of the trip and had some late lunch while Kai explained to me how golf works. Hit the ball into 18 holes? Cool.

Winnie had a sausage and one of the locals walked a lap of the building to find her a dog bowl then gave us firm instructions on how to get back to the trail after we left the golf club. Sweet guy.

From the golf course I felt fat and tired, we walked the beautiful village paths, through the wild community orchard and meadows, past the church and back up the hill to the ridge. With the wind never relenting, we trudged the world’s longest field which went on for at least 29 more miles. We saw 5 more individual Ridgeway walkers who’d left Avebury this morning and had pleasant, happy chats as you do when you see anyone doing the same trail. They all liked Winnie’s hair and agreed she was extremely clever carrying all her stuff – some even remarked that “that’s a good idea , getting her to carry all your things”. Hohoho.

We arrived at Barbury castle car park where there were bins and benches aplenty. The public toilets on offer remain, as they always are, like that of a scene in a zombie movie, but at the latter stages where the land is reclaiming itself and everyone has been dead for years. If I’d seen a hand print and smeared blood on the wall here, I would have continued about my business without pause.

We were here at 5pm and only wanted a couple more miles before camp so made a coffee to wait out some time. Winnie had dinner and 4 other dogs ran up to us and tried to steal it. She didn’t mind – shed eaten all the fish from it and hates it anyway.

We moved off by 6 and sauntered the last couple of miles past the remains of Barbury castle and a back on the chalky tracks where we began to look for a nice spot to camp.

We’re only 5 miles from Avebury, but our lift home won’t be there to collect us until tomorrow. So camp we must. And camp we enjoy.

The Northern side of a nice copse, out of the wind almost entirely and undoubtedly perfectly flat, made the selection. Inside the copse would have been ideal, but the wind filtered through, branches may have fallen on us and the site was undoubtedly used by modern pagan’s as evidence of rituals could be seen in the form of tissues and beer cans everywhere. People are gross.

We pitched up and watched the sunset until dark. We had a little tipple and a toasted the Max’s on our final night on the Ridgeway.

Day 5

We woke up, sticky, smelly, ready for a shower. That’s actually how I’ve woken every morning but it’s particularly evident now. This was the first morning Winnie hasn’t been on her feet raring to go. I made her breakfast in bed with some added cheese. We drank a leisurely coffee and looked out over the misty lands below.

We packed up slowly and with no urgency at all, then left for the remaining 4.4 miles to Avebury.

Good job there was no urgency as Kai, (aka hip replacement aka Hippie), was hurting this morning – he made the last miles with a grimace. The trend was downhill, the track was a rutted, hard packed chalk. Before too long we made a rare 90 degree right turn down the track, which turned to tarmac and lead us into Avebury; to be greeted by Mali the Spaniel and Mrs Kai (aka Beth aka Sparrow).

We rolled into town, and fell into the pub where Hippie’s parents were waiting for him for a big smelly hug. They treated us to a hearty breakfast and a hearty 10:30am pint.

97 miles on the Ridgeway complete.

Thank you so much to everyone who’s donated, we’ve surpassed the £1000 target and reached beyond it.

We both really, really appreciate it.

It’s a worthy cause, to help those with such a painful affliction.

This blog is named ‘SONDER’ which was coined in the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows by John Koenig as: ‘the profound realisation that everybody, even strangers you pass on the street, is living a life as vivid and complex as your own’.

I’ve always loved this sentiment. Walking long trails and the power in the conversations I’ve have with those I’ve met, reminds me to be kind and to never judge too quickly. I try to remember that everyone walks with their own trauma, their own stories and has lived a life a complex or as complete as mine.

Until next time…