Yesterday I took Lena out for a good, proper long walk. It feels like such a long time since we've done this. We were up at 5:15 and I was feeling quite sore from Saturdays' walk to town on pavement and sandals- 10 miles. So I'd already been internet shopping on the sofa for 4 hours before I, thankfully, decided it was too nice a day to miss. It took me an hour to pack our bag- still too long. I still walked out the door with 10% battery on my watch so kicked off the Garmin to record our fun. I've all but stopped paying any attention to my "training" stats but I continue to record our activities through some sense of intrigue, record keeping, entertainment factor, who knows? 7
We've been up the Loxley valley a few times on our lunch walks but it is a committed valley that's an out-and-back from our house unless you have 3 hours to hand: The weather was warm. I was in a dress and Lena did plenty of paddling. We stretched beyond our previous limits when we reached the first road- crossing but the milestone passed her by because we'd picked up a pack of other dogs who we left behind chatting to the farmer rounding up sheep for market.
We could have cut up to the 1st pub before Bradfield for lunch. We could have eaten what I brought with me - an eclectic mix of cereal bars and dry fruit hut but instead I deviated from the familiar route and walked the extra 1. 5 miles along Damflask reservoir to the teashop for a hot roast beef and gravy sandwich-much to the dog's delight.
I talked bikes with a couple of old codgers with bikes then we set about making up a new route home.
At least I'd still got a partially charged battery a suitable cable to top up the Garmin. At least I'd had the sense to bring it-unlike some of my earlier routes where we got lost as soon as we left my well- "trodden bridleways.
The new route immediately dropped us onto new (to me) paths through sheep and grassy fields. Firstly along the higher reaches of the Damflask catchment then over towards Dungworth. We crossed woodlands and (the dog) leapt over the complicated stiles then finally we flopped over in a ley field of mown something, it was stubbly and uncomfortable and I was glad of my sit mat though the spiky stumps beneath the green grass still bit into my thighs like insects.
We watched swallows flitting through the sky catching the mid afternoon flies. If I'd had my camera I could have captured a hundred action images as they eventually forgot we were there and flew straight at us, dodging around us at the last second. When the dog had enough water to drink, I poured the remainder over her belly and she wriggled and waved her legs in the air as the breeze cooled her down. Of course, after such rapture there must be misery in the form of a poorly maintained path on the edge of an industrial unit in Dungworth village.
Marginalised between a fallen down wall, harris fencing and nettles, we picked our way out, swearing, only to find ourselves in the sugar hubbub of Our Cow Molly. We photo bombed twenteen-agers' vlogs,to get to the carpark where, in his eagerness to mow us down at the carpark entrance, a yellow porsche driver marooned himself-all wheels spinning, clutch burning and engine revving on the gravel. We slid by serenely as the carnage continued around us. We desisted with my desire to follow the through-path as the cows were making their way through for milking and Lena did not look happy about the prospect of them getting too close
We turned tail and after a short walk on the road, onto a new footpath deep into a valley, across a beautiful bridge where black- brown water bubbled around the rocks beneath Himalayan balsam. The stiles were challenging conundrums for the dog and very narrow ledges for me to co-ordinate my tired feet. I struggled while Lena gave up at thinking and simply launched all of her energy into clearing every wall direct. I needed the map out to find my way past the "keep to footpath" signs. Y 'know, the ones without any helpful indication of where the footpath is. Thankfully it went along the contour for a while - recompense for the last steep climb of the day.
Through a small but beautiful ancient woodland and over to a bridleway that, finally, we recognised, crossed and popped out onto familiar territory - the burial woodland at the top of the hill opposite our neighbourhood. I had never realised it had a footpath straight through the middle of it and it was with some considerable delight that I lay down to stare at the blue sky and passing white, fluffy clouds. Lena lay in the long grass beside me, fully asleep while the world buzzied about their occasional weekend motorised business on the other side of the wall.
When I decided I'd rested long enough with my naked feet in the breeze, I woke the dog. The first thing she did when she opened her eyes was look at me, then flopped back down in the grass. I wonder what she's thinking. Is she reassured that I am there. Does she not care? Is she happy or confused she's on a walk? Does she remember where she's been on the fun we've had today? Does she want to get home or lie there a while longer or-like me- does she just want to be back already?
Over the crest of this hill that we've almost reached are the same paths we tread every day. Some days they're just tedious but today they were joyous. Golden sunlight danced and I soaked in every bit of summer before it is gone. We were home in time for dinner.
