Leith Hill (Circular) – (Surrey) – 05/04/10 – 9.5 Miles – IVC

My heart nearly stopped at Clapham Junction station, when it showed on the board three trains departing at 1038, with not one of them stopping at Holmwood. ‘Oh my God’ I thought, ‘the bank holiday is a Sunday service after all’ (as trains don’t stop at Holmwood on a Sunday). After standing there for something near ten minutes contemplating should I resign or just wait to be expelled from IVC, thankfully the board moved up a line and the 1038 to Horsham appeared (stopping at Holmwood). Just as well then as including myself we had 14 people along for this walk (sadly not 15), which I was pleased to see included an old friend from The Arts Group.

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Now the logical lunch stop on this walk (as you know from my two previous blog entries on it) is the Plough in Coldharbour, and after three quarters of an hour of walking: down a lane, across fields, and through a farm, we were there. Sadly the food didn’t seem quite as exciting as when I was last there, probably not helped by our decision to sit in the garden whilst the chilly weather constantly threatened to suddenly throw it down. Anyway for the record I had two eggs, ham and chips, and no one had any pudding.

Having regrouped we set off up towards Leith Hill, passing to the left of Coldharbour cricket club. It’s amazing when walking in a group, how quickly everyone becomes strung out when going up any sort of gradient; and this was to become quite a feature of the day. The problem was compounded whenever I stopped to make sure no one took a wrong turn, as everyone else would then come to a halt to have a natter. Once at the National Trust tower on Leith Hill, various members of our group then stopped for refreshments at the Kiosk, which I found perplexing considering they had only left the pub about 50 minutes prior to that. One older member did drop out at this point however (which he had previously warned me that he was likely to do).

So moving on we carried on through Wooton common and Abinger Bottom, finally arriving at the Stephan Langton Inn, where two other members (who had been the slowest ones in the group) decided they were going to make an afternoon of it there. For my part I was busting for a leak, which is a bit difficult to go off and do discreetly behind a tree when you are leading a walk, and everyone is behind you. So it was with some relief (geddit) that I saw a sign pointing to the outside toilets at the pub. At this point a new member said she had blisters and wanted to know was there a way she could drop out early. However as she didn’t want to phone for a taxi at the pub, and didn’t want any plasters from my first aid kit, the answer was basically no, given that Holmwood is the only logical station. In the event however she soldiered on to the end.

More climbing by Broadmoor and subsequently some steady gradients along the Greensand Way, meant the group kept getting strung out again (you should see the dots in the background of the picture) all of which made fast progress difficult. Now I had said that the hourly 1719 train should be the one we caught, and I had also said in the flyer that we might stop for late afternoon tea when we got back to the Plough. By the time we got back there however, it soon became apparent we couldn’t do the latter and still achieve the former, which thankfully didn’t present a problem for anyone.

Thus the muddy descent back to Holmwood station took a complete hour (which I assumed we should have been able to do in 45 minutes) meaning when we arrived at Holmwood station we had made it with 10 minutes to spare. Thus everyone congratulated me on my perfect timing (sheer bloody luck) as well as saying how much they had enjoyed the walk (after moaning most of the time about how uphill it was, and latterly about how it must be more than 9.5 miles). Anyway everyone seemed pleased with their own individual efforts, apart from me after I forgot to put on my gators.

Parwich (Circular) – Peak District – (Derbyshire) – 23/03/10 – 13 Miles – Helen (Luther & Molly)

Having been awake for 21 hours the previous day, and then been periodically woken during the night, I was somewhat sluggish for the main bulk of this walk. Matters weren’t helped when the Sun tricked me into leaving my body warmer at home, on a day when it had no real intention of putting in a permanent appearance. Anyway having parked in Parwich we set off around midday, crossing both Bletch Brook and the Tissington Trail (avoiding a low flying RAF transporter), before reaching Tissington itself some two miles in. Once there, and having admired Tissington Hall we settled on a bench to have our lunch, before the intermittent rain forced us to seek shelter in the graveyard of a nearby church. I had debated earlier in the day whether I needed a scotch egg to go with my cob and other assorted bits, but by the end of the walk all this extra fuel definitely proved necessary.

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Once lunch was finished, we crossed a field before picking up the Tissington Trail for a mile or so, following which we headed for Hampston Hill. Eventually we found ourselves walking through the picturesque (in a mini Lake Distrct sort of way) valleys of Lin Dale. Molly dog obviously thought she was back in the Lake District again as she went on a variety of scouting missions looking for sheep (fortunately none around), before returning each time we gave her a whistle (females are suckers for that sort of thing).

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Eventually we arrived at the stepping stones (across the water) in Dovedale where we messed around taking photos, as well as finishing off the last of our lunch packs. Moving on, but not across the water, we walked along the Dale where Helen was able to name several of the rocks and caves on our left. We also found a strange rock, embedded with several hundred two pence pieces. This section is obviously a popular one as we had to negotiate about fifty kids being led by a National Trust grown up, some guys warning us of a pregnant sheep further down the track (huh), and a woman with a black Labrador that we couldn’t seem to shake off, and whom I was never quite sure on whether she was talking to us or herself. By this time the weather had decided to drop the pretence of it being any sort of reasonable day, and instead started to chuck it down.

Now mindful of my yet to fully heal calf, I had previously asked Helen whether we could do a flat walk on this occasion (and to be fair it had in the main been just that). However when we then moved onto a very steep and long climb onto (or on) Alsop Dale, my injured calf started grumbling for the first time in the day, and physically I felt near out on my feet. Oh and did I mention it was raining even harder by now. Thus having reached the summit, I somewhat ungraciously told Helen that she needed to go on a map reading course to understand contour lines (just the sort of thanks you need really after taking the time and trouble to plan a walk for someone, but then that’s the sort of cad I am). So far be it for me to suggest that any of that had put Helen off her stroke, but shortly afterwards the map reading started to go somewhat astray.

From Hanscombe Grange we negotiated our way through a farm, and a pervasive whiff of slurry (which lived long in the nostrils), and then basically went walking down a road in the wrong direction. Now the problem wasn’t so much that we carried on for at least a mile and a half before realising this, but rather that it was getting seriously late in the day (which wasn’t all that bright a day to begin with). However just when we were coming to the conclusion that it was all going very wrong (which strangely coincided with my energy levels lifting back up again), we suddenly came across a sign on our left pointing a trail towards Tissington. Now although it had gone past 5 o clock, we figured as long as we didn’t mess up getting to Tissington, we were home and dry as we could then follow the two mile route we had already been down, in the opposite direction back to Parwich. Wrong on that count however, as although we easily made it back to Tissington (and Tissington Hall), we began to cock up again.

Now rather than quickly pushing on at that point, whilst we just about had enough light to do it, Helen had become seriously disorientated. This was because both the darkness, and the raindrops on her glasses, were preventing her from reading the map. Thus we couldn’t seem to agree on which way to go, with us wasting inordinate amounts of time asking various village idiots for confusing non-directions to Parwich. Now unfortunately I wasn’t really any help whatsoever here, as is my won’t when someone else is leading a walk, I tend to pay no attention to the route of where we’ve been, or where we are heading (something I need to get out of the habit of). Thus finding ourselves in the middle of a field in approaching darkness, and with still no clear sense of direction, we decided we urgently had to return to the road in Tissington again, before a drama became a real dangerous crisis.

Once back in Tissington and still unable to make much sense of the map by the light of a phone box, we decided there was no option other than to walk a four to six mile semi-circular route back to Parwich on a completely unlit road. Oh and before you ask there was no mini-cab numbers in the phone box, or pubs (or anything resembling civilisation) along the way. Were we in any real trouble at this point ? Well no, not unless one of the dogs had twisted its paw in one of the cattle grids we had to cross over, or if my calf muscle had suddenly pulled, or even worse than any of that, Helen had started to get hungry. No what we had to look forward to was the best part of two more hours walking, in pitch darkness, in the cold and rain. The other thing we also had to look out for was the occasional vehicle coming up behind us, and then came ‘The Miracle of Bus 411’. Thus turning round to clear the road of the first vehicle that had come up behind us for about 15 minutes, what came heading in our direction (with no one else on board) was the 411 to Parwich. This was in fact not just the last one of the night, but a service that only diverts off to Parwich once every three hours. Were we grateful or what when he stopped in the road to pick us up ? Once on board Helen was close to laughing hysterics, Luther felt relieved enough to start grooming and cleaning Molly, whilst I racked my brain to find ways to thank the driver enough (obviously the guy wasn’t a London bus driver, because he would have just driven round us as we weren’t at a stop, or alternatively opened the door before proclaiming in the best jobsworth tone: “no dogs”).

So still wide eyed at the miracle that had just happened, we arrived in Parwich where without the aid of a map, we managed to retrieve the car. Now Helen reckoned we did some 12 miles in total, whereas I think it was nearer 14, so splitting the difference I am settling on 13 (which is unlucky for some, but in the final reckoning not us).

Milford (Circular) – (Surrey) – 14/03/10 – 12 Miles – IVC

Well so much better than last Sunday then. In that event it was a case of getting out of bed at 0730 for the IVC walk, only to fall back under the covers by 0740 feeling completely shagged out. Having recovered later I decided to do a rucksack walk in the afternoon, only to rip my left calf muscle (from a long dormant running injury) some three miles in. The cause of all this grief being the three (Run)/Walks I had done in the prior ten days, which had physically ground me into the dirt, and tightened both calves to the point of no return. So my question to myself therefore is when am I going to learn:
1 – That I am not capable of running anymore, precisely for this sort of reason.
2 – That walking is meant to be a healthy outdoor enjoyable activity, not a slog your guts out exercise through which I try to recapture former glories (ditto cycling: healthy mode of transport not a …………. oh you get the idea).

So anyway despite a week of walking to work and back, and standing up whilst watching TV, all as a desperate form of self rehab., I would be doing this walk with a limp and a certain amount of pain (but then again I am something of a hero).

It was nice to get the feel of Spring in the air as our party set off from Milford station, and for a day when I was mainly bringing up the rear, this was one of the few occasions when the walk’s leader was setting a cracking pace. Thus by the time I had caught the leader and the majority of the group up, they would have swigged from their drinks bottles and be on their way again. Part of this swift pace however was down to her booking a table for six at the pub for 1330, to avoid the Mothers Day trade, and not wanting to miss that particular slot. That said I was doing a fair bit of chin wagging at the back about the OU and other assorted topics and thus finding myself falling off the pace and struggling (with the injury) to catch up.

There was a fair amount of up and downs until we found ourselves walking mainly along pine mono-culture type forest pathways, which turned out to be the Greensand Way, which me and Helen covered part of during the Leith Hill excursions. By this time I had picked up a very large stick and was using it as a walking pole for my left leg. So when we arrived at the White Horse pub in Hascombe, I placed it carefully out of view outside for use again during the second half.

Whilst not outrageously priced, this was not one of your cheaper food pubs either, so the cheeseburger and chips looked the best bet for a tenner, and we were asked how well we wanted the burger (locally sourced organic Aberdeen Angus apparently) done. Certainly you don’t normally get asked that when you order a Big Mac and Fries, but then that’s only a third of the price. So despite all the Mother’s Day kerfuffle the pub was busy but not imposible, although the over abundance of toddlers told one that this wasn’t a normal Sunday. Unfortunately I can’t speak for the puddings as our leader told us quite firmly that none of us had the time to order one. So having barely digested the burger, it was time to reassemble outside and retrieve my stick.

Now I have to say my stick was quite useful in taking the pressure off my left calf, especially in the sense of pushing off with it. The downside however was it was quite heavy, and was also starting to make my left shoulder sore. So eventually I ended up chucking it, round about the time when the small dog appeared (although I am almost certain, the stick itself hadn’t turned into a dog). Anyway this tiny Jack Russell doggie/thing had become very much part of our group, save for the fact that it didn’t like the pace we were walking at, and kept running on ahead of us. Eventually however a lad caught up with us on his mountain bike, although he said that it wasn’t his dog but it actually belonged to his neighbours. Unfortunately the more he tried to run after the dog to retrieve it, the more the dog thought what a brilliant game it was to keep running away, and this was one fast dog. Finally the lad thought sod it and proceeded to walk off, at which point having seen the game was now over, said dog surrendered itself to one of our party. This of course meant that we then had to go chasing after the young lad to get him to come and collect it (well not me of course, as I have a bad leg doncha know).

Our next interesting four legged encounter was with some sort of pot bellied pig/boar thing that kept snorting at us from the other side of a fence. He certainly seemed friendly enough (although those teeth looked sharp) but he obviously had some sort of sinus problem that really needs to be dealt with. His missus meanwhile was happy to stay in the middle of the pen and ignore us. By this time two of our party were getting restless and were wanting to break off and drop out at Godalming (one train stop down the line), and thus save themselves a whole mile’s worth of walking. In the event they missed the hourly train by exactly two minutes, and ended up getting on the one we caught at Milford. For our part we arrived at Milford station by 1715, which meant there was considerable time to kill before the 1752 put in an appearance. At this point serious questions began to be asked as to why we couldn’t stay on for the Banoffee at the pub instead of being rushed out. However our leader placated us all with a shortcake biscuit, and thus we will say no more in these parts about it.

Walks since last blog entry:

(Run) Walks
2 x 6 Miles – Grand Union Canal / Osterley Park
1 x 6 Miles – Osterley Park / Grand Union Canal

(Rucksack 9kg) Walks.1 x 4 miles – Putney to Barnes Bridge (incomplete).

Ashover (Circular) – Peak District (Derbyshire) – 21/02/10 – 5 Miles – Helen (Luther & Molly)

A short write up for a fairly shortish walk, which nonetheless had some steady old climbs as well as some impressive views. In fact the views were rather Christmassy card in nature, which means of course that the white stuff had made a come back. Anyway we parked and set off at Ashover Village Hall, and after negotiating our way around an assortment of kids, parents and their dog, we made our climb up onto a ridge and began a circular walk round, before descending at something called Devils Bottom, or Behind (or something like that – ask Helen).

Anyway the snow was crunchy as well as being reel pweety (sic). Unfortunately my energy and enthusiasm levels were severly muted due to some virus or other I had been trying to shake off for several days. Thus I was firing on only one of my normal three cylinders. So when after about ninety odd minutes Helen told me we had only done half of it, my heart did begin to sink (although that may also have been because I realised the perfectly round snowball I had been working on for twenty minutes or so, would probably have to be disposed of before I got back to the car). Luther and Molly seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it all though (including trying to catch my flying snowballs). Whilst Helen tried to keep my enthusiasm going with a guided tour of: assorted mines, quarries, and her former property portfolio. As if by some sort of Karma her efforts were eventually rewarded when a passing female walker (+ partner and dog) made all sorts of complimentary remarks about Luther. This of course caused Helen to near burst with pride (as it would with any proud mother).

So overall a good little walk on a really excellent and picturesque day. Unfortunately I wasn’t on sufficient form to appreciate it, although I am sure getting outdoors and making the effort, no doubt did me some good.

Otford (Circular) – (Kent) – 14/02/10 – 8 Miles – IVC

Mud, mud, glorious mud, nothing quite like it for ……….. (well whatever). So if ever a walk had a theme to it, then that was the story of this one. The Gators that Helen had bought me last week really came into their own today, although the new boots (which were totally caked in the stuff) proved far from grippy, especially when it came to getting over muddy stiles.

Anyway seven of us assembled at the allotted time at Otford station, only to be told by our walk leader that there was another female member still travelling on the train. However after some half an hour of standing about in the drizzle, most of us were getting a teeny bit cheesed off waiting for this person to show up. Therefore our walk leader decided to stay and wait for her to arrive, while the leader of all leaders would instead lead us up to the lunch stop where we would all rendevous.

So straight out of the station then and we were met with an enormous partly stepped climb that had us all slipping left right and centre as we climbed up onto the Downs. However after descending into a valley (pictured) we began to realise what slippy was, as first our leader of all leaders fell face down on the ascent, and as I tried to go to his assistance, I fell and slid face down as well, as if I was caught up in a landslip (amazingly I managed to avoid getting caked in mud).

Needless to say by the time we reached our lunch stop at the Fox and Hounds, my new boots were two muddy stumps. Thoughtfully the pub provides a boot rack outside, but no means for getting from the rack to inside the front door (where I eventually left mine) without getting your feet wet. Anyway with my gators ripped off, at least my trousers were the height of respectability. We had speculated earlier as being Valentines day, maybe we wouldn’t be able to get a table at the pub, but there was certainly enough room at the inn; not just for us either as two other walking groups soon piled in. For my part I had the Sunday roast which was: half a roast chicken, bacon strip, roast potatoes, and green peas (all of which I ate), and yorkshire pudding and cauliflower (which I didn’t). So with lunch consumed, our original leader + straggler then showed up, and we all waited while they ordered and ate.

Once off and out the door again in the mizzle, we couldn’t seem to detach ourselves from Bromley Ramblers, all the way down to the golf course. Only the severest and yet again muddiest of climbs seemed to put pay to them. What goes up however will of course come down, only in this case I decided to tackle the slippy descent with the aid of a large stick, which seemed to work quite well for me (so if anyone is lost for present ideas …… !).

So having passed Shoreham station crossing a road, our leader suggested that this was a potential drop out point for anyone (duh), but everyone was happy to slip and slide on regardless. What we did have to look out for however was flying golf balls, as one way or another we always seemed to be crossing, or walking alongside one course or another. Eventually however we found ourselves navigating along the Darent Valley, (and as we came upon some houses) the Darent River. From there a brief road walk took us back to Otford station, and of course home, tea, and lashings of ginger beer.

Leith Hill (Circular) – (Surrey) – 06/02/10 – 9.5 Miles – Helen

Now is the Winter of our discontent; or to put it another way, what a shit month January was then. Thus my singular walk of last month was on the 8th which you will have already all read about in this blog (you did all read it didn’t you ?). So what went wrong then Mike, I hear you ask ? Well, the problems started with the snow and ice, which made even the tinest stroll over to Tesco’s a potential limb breaking tumble, and turned the rail network into little more than a mirage. But hey I don’t need to tell any of you that, because you were all there in one way or another with the snow yourselves. So what else happened then ? Well, one of the parents went into hospital, which has taken up substantial amounts of time. Then just to round the month off nicely, I developed a particularly nasty stomach bug, the violent effects of which only lasted a day, but the lethargic (watch it buster I might easily strike you again) after effects went on for well over a week. So as I said, just the one walk (of any sort) for January then.

In other news however, I did finally commit to buying a new pair of walking boots. A fabric (I am so not sure about this) pair of North Face ones, coming in at a outrageous (for me anyway) £110. Although as such price wasn’t really the sticking point here, but rather the time lag necessary into getting my head round the (now) indisputable fact, that I am currently increasing in shoe size every two years. So part of this walk was about trying said fabric boots out, as well as a snazzy pair of gaters that Helen had just bought for me (to solve the usual muddy disgrace that is the bottom of my trousers). Anyway this was a repeat of the Leith Hill circular I did on my own on my working holiday in December, based on the February 2009 cut out from Country Walking magazine. Only in this instance I/we would be starting at the official start at Holmwood station, rather than half way round.

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So after having messed about for ten minutes on the station platform adjusting my gators, we were on our way and within a matter of minutes managed to cake my brand new boots in mud along the narrowest of lanes. The day itself had a drop in temperature from the previous one, with a mist on the horizon that would not disappear, but apart from that gave us perfect walking conditions. So after a quick traverse across some fields taking us up to Anstiebury Farm, and a small section on the road, we had reached Coldharbour and our lunch stop at The Plough Inn. Thus it was 12.10 and including gator adjustment time, we had been going all of 40 minutes. Anyway The Plough Inn turned out to be very walker friendly, given the amount of them (+ dogs) that came in after us, with a reasonably priced menu (I had the gammon steak, with egg, veg and chips, and Helen had some sort of fish soup).

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So with lunch over it was the start of a long climb, passing Coldharbour cricket pitch and assorted mountain bikers, which eventually led us all the way up to Leith Hill Tower. Unlike the the last time I was here (in midweek) the tower was open to visitors. So after Helen flashed her National trust membership card at the kiosk ladies, we were able to climb the (sometimes dark) winding staircase to the very top, whilst stopping off to see the info boards, and trying to keep away from the brat toddlers that always seem to inhabit these sort of places. Unfortunately however having reached the summit all the promised views to: St Pauls, the Sea, etc., were hidden behind the impenetrable mist that just wouldn’t lift despite the occasional glimpse of sunlight.

So with that amusement finished, we were back walking along various bridleways that took us through Wooton Common and Abinger Bottom. Eventually passing the Stephen Langton Inn, which is a potential lunch stop on this walk, but would have been far too late in the day for us. I did at this point start to get slightly concerned that it was now approaching three o clock, and we only seemed to have just made the half way point. However once we had picked up the Greensand Way at Broadmoor, passing the Henman Basecamp from my working holiday, I felt relaxed once more about the available daylight. Of less concern, but a definite curiousity, was why my new gators weren’t getting splattered in mud in the same way my trousers usually do (perhaps they are Teflon non-stick). Anyway once we had walked through a fallen tree on the path, we made it back round to Coldharbour cricket pitch again and stopped for assorted refreshments.

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From there we were back on the home straight, passing through Coldharbour again, and this time taking a different route on a lane around Anstiebury Farm, and also around a horse that was doing his best to block it. Not the only wildlife on view here either, as at the bottom of our descent, three young deer flashed across the path we were heading towards. So with one more ascent along the hedgeline of four fields we soon found ourselves back at Holmwood station. Well that would actually either be too soon or too late, as having arrived at 1638, we then had a chilly wait for the 1719 train to Victoria in a windowless waiting room. Oh by the way I forgot to mention how I got on with the new boots, which in itself must be a good sign.

Walks since last blog entry:
(Run) Walks1 x 6 miles – Osterley Park / Grand Union Canal.

Wimbledon Park to Osterley (via Kew Bridge) – (Surrey/Middlesex) – 08/01/10 – 12 Miles – Myself

Unless you’re a kid with an extended school holiday, the current big freeze is snow joke for anyone. Thus with four days off work, I have found all my plans having to be shelved due to a combination of slippy roads, unreliable trains, and threats of worse weather to come. Sure I know other people are having far worse problems with it. Also I always have work to look forward to next week, and the opportunity to do some more driving on the white stuff. But having said all that it is actually making me depressed okay (so bite me). However given that London Underground seem better at keeping their train set working than the other lot, and with my original plan for the day cancelled anyway, I decided to fight back against the elements and do one of my favourite walks.

So that’s two stages of the Capital Ring again then, and with only one station between home and Wimbledon Park actually underground, I was surprised at what a hassle free journey it was. Once in Wimbledon Park, it was obvious that the young mums and buggies fraternity, were not going to be put off from getting their toddlers to the swings. Fair play to them, but of course Wimbledon Park, and the road section that follows, is merely the necessary evil part of this walk until you get to the real start of proceedings in Wimbledon Common. Also given that this road section was the one bit I had most concerns about, it was something of a relief that I managed to get to Wimbledon Common without going arse over tit. Once in the common though I felt on much surer ground walking wise, with my £25 steel toe cap workboots (which I use for conservation activities) still performing well whilst I dither on about buying a proper pair of walking boots again.

So once past the Windmill I decided that I had already earned myself a tea break at the Windmill Tea Rooms. However seeing as I am making a sterling effort these days to break out of the coffee with chocolate cake (or bar or biscuits) rut, I decided to expand my horizons and have a cherry slice with a hot chocolate drink. Not too bad for £3.70, especially given the hot chocolate was made with milk not water. However given the blue blood clientele they seem to attract here I couldn’t help feeling I was lowering the tone of the place. So hoping I didn’t leave too many crumbs I supped up quickly and got back out into the snow.

Now as daft as it seems I couldn’t help feeling I was somewhat overdressed, given that on my upperbody I was wearing: one vest, one t-shirt, two pullovers, one fleece, and an anorak (not to mention a woolly hat). Therefore to counteract the fact that I was actually sweating buckets, I did periodically take off my gloves. Wimbledon Common naturally looks different in the snow and although I should know this route like the back of my hand by now, there were a few moments when I had to do a double take on which way to go. Another potential slip hazard loomed when it came to crossing the footbridge over the A3 to take one into Richmond Park. However despite that having no grit on it, it did have a handrail to balance oneself on.

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Richmond Park was shut to cars, and for a moment I thought pedestrians as well, but once in I made a quick visit to the facilities at Robin Hood Gate. Then it was onto the climb up towards Spankers Hill Wood, whilst keeping it on my right. However given that all the paths were buried under a blanket of white, again it took me a moment to get my bearings. Once at Pen Ponds, it became apparent that they had both frozen up save for one small patch of water, that some ducks and swans were floating about on (see picture). Still perhaps they had the day off school as well as the multitude of kids who were up by Henry VIII’s mound tobagonning down towards the gate by the Dysart Arms. Not wishing to become a new type of accident statistic, I made sure I gave them the widest of berths before leaving the park.

Pushing on through Petersham Meadows, I was very surprised to find the towpath by Richmond Bridge not just gritted in places, but actually lacking any evidence of it having snowed there at all. However as if to restore some sort of equilibrium, this was the moment when large blobs of the white stuff briefly started to come down again, as you can see in my Canadian geese picture.

Once past Twickenham bridge it was back to watching where you were walking on the towpath again. What was worse however was that due to ice (get out of it) they had shut Twickenham footbridge, leaving me stuck on the Surrey side of the river and a longer diversion home via Kew Bridge. Well that was not too much of a problem I suppose, certainly not as much as the idiot who let the largest of his three dogs come barking up to me, and then ram me with his head (once I had quickly put my hands in my pockets). Just what you need when walking on an icy towpath, and even though the guy immediately said sorry, no doubt if I had broke my leg he would have just walked on. Anyway that gripe aside, once I reached Kew Bridge I decided the paths were too slippy and ungritted (is that a word ?) to risk coming back via the Thames and the Grand Union at the back of Brentford, and instead walked the modernist mile along the Great West Road instead.

Walks since last blog entry:

(Run) Walks:

1 x 6 miles – Grand Union Canal / Osterley Park .