A Countryside Adventure

My legs are still aching after a 10 mile hike on Saturday, when one of my brother's joined me and my husband on a walk from our hometown to my parents' house. It was a bitterly cold day, but the sky was bright blue, the sun was shining, and the cloud came and went without any precipitation.

We started by following the river northwards, walking alongside it (mostly through gloopy mud) for as long as possible, before the banks become private land and we had to take a footpath for the next few miles, which follows the same course, only the river is hidden from sight.

God Rays light the way

Having successfully waded through thick mud and puddles, we were then attacked by two angry Jack Russells as we walked through a farm. I'm not much of a dog person but I especially loathe Jack Russells - ever since one tried to bite me in Brazil I've been rather afraid of them. They finally returned to the farmer after he shouted at them for at least a minute. A few metres on and one of them was gaining on us again, yapping and growling like something out of a nightmare. My husband and brother turned around and glared at it stonily until it shut up and finally accepted that we meant no harm.

We then traversed more fields until we saw the spire of a church in the distance. Tummies rumbling, we marched up over a hill and found a bench in the churchyard to sit and eat our picnic. We ate in silence, gazing at the view before us, the South Downs undulating calmly in the distance, white chalk exposed where old quarries had once been, a wind turbine sitting on one of the hills slowly turning, and miles of farmland and trees.

The next part of the hike was across more farmland, dipping in and out of a small valley where the old railway line had once been,  until we reached a pub where we stopped for a quick drink. Refreshed we ploughed on through yet more farmland, and then up a long country lane until we came to another footpath which took us through woods and fields, over past the farmhouse where my dad grew up. At this point we were growing both a little weary and wary. There were pheasant shooters out in one patch of woods, and clay pigeon shooters were out on the grounds of the posh country hotel to the north of us. Although shooters stay away from public rights of way, they still made me edgy!

It was with considerable relief that we made it down into the valley and across a rickety bridge over a deep, dark pond and then out onto a road. By this time we could tell that sunset would not be far away and we still had some way to go, so we continued up a track and through another farm until we reached a bridleway.

This bridleway is the stuff of stories. It disappeared down before us into a gloomy valley, enclosed by trees. It looked very spooky indeed. Not to be deterred however (after all we had survived deep mud, vicious dogs, and the aristocracy out shooting!), we boldly continued onwards. 

Where does it lead?

We followed the bridleway downhill for half a mile or so, then across a bridge over a stream, just as deep and dark in appearance as the pond from earlier. We then started to go uphill again, with trees on one side and a high wall on the other. In the high wall we found a couple of small doors, that clearly most adult humans could not fit through without crouching very low. What were they for and where did they lead? We may never know... (this is a nod to Jeanine who recently wrote an excellent post on her blog about mysterious doorways).

Who lives here? (I'm not surprised that they didn't answer the door with someone like me poised outside!)

We really felt like we were in a fantasy land now as the trees seemed to loom taller and more menacing around us. We trudged through thick boggy earth covered by leaves. For a few worrying moments we all felt like we were sinking, and it wasn't possible to see an end in sight. The gloom pressed in and perhaps we wouldn't have been surprised if we'd been attacked by a troll or a ring wraith, or even troublesome pixies.

It was actually a bit of a disappointment when we successfully broke free of the leaf mould and reached a road with a handful of houses either side of it, reminding us that we were actually in normal old England, on a normal January day. However, a short skip and a jump across the road and over a stile and we were once more on an eerie path back into some woods. By now mist was slowly crawling in, the sky was turning from pinky red to purple and then darker and darker as we made our way through more trees.

The twilight mist draws in, enveloping us all so that we can no longer see each other...

When we finally reached the field on the other side of the woods night had fallen. The security lights of the primary school in the distance shimmered before us, and soon the domestic lights of homes came into view. We walked along one more footpath and then we had arrived in the village good and proper. A quick walk through a housing estate and then through the twitten that runs past my parents' home, round the corner and up the drive.

As we beat the mud off of our shoes on the boot scraper, we all began to feel the aches and pains of the long trek. However, we were met with hot cups of tea, a rest in front of the fire, and then a delicious dinner, before my brother drove us back home.

We slept very well that night, and whilst my dreams weren't haunted by scary woods, magical doorways, and deathly bogs, the walk has greatly inspired me and I have lots of ideas for my writing because of it, hurrah!

What do you see? What or who lives here? What do they do? Look... Listen... Imagine...

Photos my own.