New Forest

The (not so) New (not quite) Forest has seen action since before Guillaume le Bâtard left his calvados behind in Falaise to take up a new job overseas as William the Conqueror (1066 And All That). Our walking group had no such ambition as we set out from the car park across the moors in search of big adventures and perhaps some primordial forest. Sneezy, Doc and I had joined with C, C, S, S, S and N hoping to cover either 10 or 20 miles.

The first 11 miles was basically a loop around Burley Street, a village we never saw. We walked the disused railway for a while west towards Brown Loaf and then went north past a tumulus on Church Moor (they're easy to see on a map but I never saw any on the ground). On across Kingston Great Common where there were lots of New Forest ponies and up to Picket Post where we headed back south-east across the ford at Ridley Bottom. We had a section actually in trees in various Inclosures (sic) from Berry Wood through to Redrise Hill. We finished by passing between Shoot Wood and Spy Holms before walking up Holman's Bottom, looping back north into Cot Bottom and finally returning to the car park between Holmsley Bog and Goatspen Plain where we said goodbye to Sneezy and N, 2C and 3S until dinner.

Barceloneta Promenade

A convention in Barcelona. Such luck. A stroll from the Barcelona International Convention Centre (CCIB) to a reception in Barceloneta. Even more luck. There were raggedy kids playing soccer on the sand in contrast with gleaming white private yachts in Port Olimpic. The kids seemed to know more about tripping, diving and goal celebration rituals than football - maybe this is football?

I was enjoying a Magum ice-cream when two utterly naked men walked past me. Joggers, walkers, cyclists and tourists all looked after they passed, cameras capturing the safer image. It reminded me of a story from a colder place, The Forty Foot, once a nude men-only bathing place in Dublin, where my father as a child thought that being aware of pickpockets (an issue in Barcelona) meant keeping an eye out for a nasty type of fish.

Barcelona was a really nice place to arrive to. Six days later I was less enamoured. The freedom of expression in Gaudi-type architecture undermines urban planning and in conjunction with hideous Franco-era Stalinist style buildings, it feels disturbingly anarchic. Been there, done that, thank you.

A very pleasant evening stroll of 5.5 km on a balmy warm evening.

POR FAVOR! £11 FOR 5.5 KM

Sagrada Familia

A walk from Me to Gaudi along the Avinguda Diagonal and up to see 60% of the unconsecrated Sagrada Familia. Love or loathe it, it is an extraordinary realisation. The tormented exterior figures invoke visions of the Inquisition. I wondered if the the column supporting turtles feel hard done by. The nave, the crypt and museum were all worth the visit. The light inside the nave was spectacularly pastel soft, abstracted and warm, in marked contrast with traditional concepts for stain glass. It somehow feels like it's growing slowly rather than being built. I liked it, a lot. And I loved the purple-blue flowers of the Jacaranda in front of the Passion facade.

This was just a four km walk in the heat of the day.

PLEASE SPONSOR £8 FOR 4 KM

Evening Stroll

A walk of duty to top up the mileage before a busy week. Set off down the canal through the evening haze of midges. Past the former Cowley Lock toll house, a photo of it from 1932 on a noticeboard letting us know it's a listed building. Around the coot-calling, parrot-screeching, cygnet-ringed waters of Little Britain and then across to the roaring M25 and north along it to Elk Meadows in Iver. Lots of water birds in plain sight. Songs of the passerines and others proof they were there too. Plagues of rabbits fleeing the threat of the lone rambler. The noise of the motorway wasn't as annoying as the mapped paths that led to private ends, forcing returns. But I shouldn't complain. The myriad venous rights-of-way allow remarkable access for which all wanderers should be grateful (and fight for their preservation).

Lots fragrant Black Locusts (false acacia), the white racemes of which transform even the Uxbridge High Street for a few weeks every year. Admittedly the fragrance has been hijacked by the air freshener industry but far better the airs of a clean rather than a dirty toilet while shopping.

The lush leaf-full canopy blocked the GPS and Walkmeter dropped a few km. Two and a half hours for 13 km. A bit slow but enjoyable and still bright at 2130.

WANTED: SPONSOR FOR 13 KM

The 33rd Walk

The 33rd walk. The first in rain that pitted the canal waters. Showers really. Flags on cars, flags on barges, world cup fever. Elder in bloom. Older blooms blasted to confetti by rain. Shrew rippling like an insect to safety. Traffic noise and bird chatter between the showers. The boy standing in the street beside the magistrates court, holding up traffic, talking defiantly, perhaps unwisely, to his friends - They're going to charge John with burglary - I got away with it.

I'm disappointed with the level of fundraising. While the walking is rewarding, I'm not being encouraged by the response to the blogging effort. Maybe Oxfam are making it too hard to donate as some have reported. I note that PW is well short of the goal for his Ahoy Buoys cross channel rowing challenge this coming weekend (weather permitting). Maybe it's the recession. Maybe it's blog boredom.

Just over 6 km today, another 257 to go.

SPONSOR 6 KM for £12

Jack and Jill

Today was organised as a 20 mile practice team walk on The South Downs Way. We walked from Upper Beeding to Lewes, essentially stages 7 through 9 of the Trailwalker itself. A linear walk, cars were left at each end to allow options for most outcomes. As luck would have it, the foreacast was for the hottest  day of the year (until the next one, that is). There was a heat haze that traduced the scenic photo contrast. It was unusually still, if the number of windmills is indicative of prevailing conditions.

We were seven. Snow White, Doc, Grumpy, Bashful, Happy, me and a guest, S walked along the banks of the Adur under high factor sunscreen, discussing the different strategies to avoid blisters and worrying about water. We passed the Rising Sun pub and then the upended fishnetted legs of a manequin in a field - perhaps we were not the only mad folk in these parts - a thought that may have propelled us to the top of Beeding Hill.

Where do I go now?

Everyone else was busy but I needed to clear my head so I wandered out of the office with no real destination in mind. Uxbridge has history. The Royalists and the Parliamentarians spent a month in negotiations here in 1645 and produced the Treaty of Uxbridge which failed to end the first Civil War. As I walked past the Crown and Treaty pub used by the negotiators, I  remembered a path from a map that went near a moat and a coppice I'd never visited. 

Fate or coincidence, I found the path and I walked over a map. I mean that somebody had dropped a map, just one worn A4 page of this area. So I picked it up and followed their pencil ticked track. Nothing exciting but it reminded me of the man who travelled from place to place, working for his keep, staying only until he would ask 'Where do I go now?' This map took me along the Colne Valley Way, well overgrown, through fields with lots of horses. The moat was a bit far to the south and off the marked path. Another day perhaps.

At the intersection of the M40 and M25, the traffic noise replaced the crackling of the high tension cables I'd followed for a good part of the way. The 'water, water' in The Rime of the Ancient Mariner sprang (sic) to mind when I thought about all that power overhead and no way to charge my iPhone.

A 6.8 km walk that did more damage to my blisters so that I must let them heal. That's OK. I can take a short break. I've only 300 km left to walk in training.


SPONSOR ME: 6.8 KM