Oh Christmas Eve…

You just wouldn’t have believed it!

Here in London we have endured endless days of greyness, drizzle, half-drizzle and full-on rain. The suddenly today, Christmas Eve, the sun came out.

My son, briefly home from faraway places, and eager to dip his boots into some English mud, came with me to the Chilterns, a range of mostly wooded hills 30 miles or so northwest of London. 

From Wendover we climbed steadily to Coombe Hill – at 260m the second-highest point in the range, but with by far the best views, then descended to circle the Chequers estate (yes, that’s Chequers as in country home of the British Prime Minister). 

The circle continues through ancient box woods to Beacon Hill, then down to Ellesborough, looking today the perfect English village in the sunshine. A mile or two further on we climbed back up Coombe Hill by the steepest available route – today a little slippery in the mud – before returning to Wendover.

And tapas. Just so delicious – a brilliant find to round off the 9-mile circuit!

OK I know, 9 miles isn’t much and it hardly starts the training for the big trip, but so what, it’s Christmas and it was a rare opportunity. We came home, hosed the masses of mud off our boots in case another opportunity arises soon – and opened a bottle of prosecco.

Cheers and Merry Christmas to all!

Calories, kilos and kilometres

A slight break in continuity, but I did warn that this would be rather erratic…

Some of those very close to me are a little concerned at the idea of me walking many miles every day for a fortnight or so. Their concern is not because they think it’s a daft idea, but is aimed at my physique. Yes, it’s true, I do have one…

The point is that I am no Charles Atlas. I may stand 178cm (5ft 10ins) but I weigh, on average, 61kg (135lbs). That, for the record, is about 500g more than I weighed 50 years ago, and it has varied little since then. I confess I’m a touch proud! This has its upsides – for example many years ago when I learned to climb, I found some tricky manoeuvres easier because I wasn’t lifting much weight up the rocks. When walking, it definitely helps not to be carrying the equivalent of a loaded backpack all the time. The downsides include an increasing difficulty in finding trousers that fit me.

I also eat and drink pretty much whatever I like, without it having an impact on my weight. That includes healthy wallops of meat, fish, potatoes…an enjoyment of good wines…and chocolate when I feel like it. So now, go on, you can all hate me!

However, just 61kg at the start of the long trek may not last the course, and I might end up a mere stick by the end. Taking the general advice of my doctor not to let my weight fall while still eating healthily, and the specific suggestion from my wife to build some more kilos both for training and before the walk, I’m now taking on extra rations. Time will tell if that leads to extra weight.

Socks again

Following an earlier post, my two pairs of new Bridgedales (“Hike”, medium) finally arrived. They don’t feel quite the same texture as the “Trekkers” so I am eager to stick them on my feet and test them over a good distance. That experiment may wait a few days, as things are getting seasonally sociable, making it trickier to disappear solo for hours on end.  

Something…Borrowed

Inspirations

It is probably a good moment to explain why this blog is here and what it will – in several months’ time – be recording. I’ve already mentioned my planned “Big Walk”, although it won’t be too big, and it won’t be a rough trek, without any further comment.

Inspirations for this exercise come from many sources. I blame my grandmother for one: when I was just 15 she passed on to me her battered copy of George Borrow’s “Wild Wales”. I started reading and then couldn’t put it down. It’s Borrow’s chronicle of a series of pedestrian tours in Wales undertaken in 1854, landscape description coloured with social and cultural insights. Borrow displays a snobbish pedantry at times, but if you can see around that it is a fascinating book. Ten or so years on from the grandmotherly gift I picked it up again, and went on to read Borrow’s other works.

More recent influences include John Hillaby’s “Journey Through Britain”, one of a clutch of “journey Through” books by another great British pedestrian. Published in 1968 it describes a walking journey from Lands End to John O’ Groats, almost entirely on footpaths and bridleways, once again with some deeper insights into the country as it was.

There are more, but you can see where this is heading. If they can do it, why not me? And not for me – or them – the predefined trek or National Trail, let’s find our own way. The idea has been with me for some time, held back for many years by the constraints of earning a living…

A44

It has been an important part of the idea that this journey should start from my front door, almost as if I were off to the shops – and didn’t come back for a couple of weeks. You have seen in earlier posts that I only need to walk for ten minutes to escape the urban sprawl, which is a privilege in London, and once I have left it behind, any destination could be my guide.

Then there is a nerdish fascination with one of Britain’s main roads. Yep – you read that right! It’s hard to feel any romance for the M25 or the M1, big sections of the evocative roads to Scotland have been turned into boring four- and six-lane highways. Then comes the A44. With only a minor tweak to its classification at the start it survives pretty much as it was first conceived in the 1920s. It runs from Oxford over the Cotswolds, through Worcestershire and the more hidden parts of Herefordshire, and across mid-Wales, through nowhere in particular, to reach the coast at Aberystwyth. Add on a traverse of the Chilterns to reach its start and you have quite a scenic and varied – and challenging – route. Take away the road and trace the general direction, Hillaby-style, on footpaths, and you have a route which no National Trail follows, and which so far I have not found documented anywhere.

Now – plan a trip which eschews rough camping (never my favourite activity) and adds enough budget to stay overnight in small hotels and guesthouses, and there is suddenly the chance to meet people and to make the journey more than just a long stepcount.

And so far – that is how it looks.