I say approx because the sodding GPS stopped working after the first two and a half miles so this is a measured estimate from the map. Edit: software says six miles dead, what with slight diversions and off-track excursions I'd probably peg it at six and a quarter anyway.
We set out around 4.15pm from a handy verge at the northernmost point of our route. With Tracey navigating I felt at a bit of a loose end; although my dad normally navigates their walks and I never feel the need to get on the map, I often felt the urge to work out where we were. I think I have to learn to be comfortable not being in control of a new walk occasionally, and confident that the person with the map can take us around. Sometimes I'd encourage her to check footpath markers before we crossed stiles, or choose which direction we'd head when there was a choice. I think her map-reading confidence grew as we went around and she was pleased when she noticed we were heading in the wrong direction.
This route is definitely one I'd like to repeat, perhaps in the opposite direction. Most notable are the brilliant hills with beautiful views of the surrounding countryside on either side of Quainton village, the windmill in the village itself and perhaps the most interesting ash tree either of us had ever seen.
We started out through a field of horses, across a couple more to the road, where we completely failed to investigate the site of a medieval village I'd specifically intended on showing my companion. Across a field of sheep to the base of our first hill, Conduit, a 75 metre climb with a break at the top to admire the view. The wind brought a chill with it as we took in the patchwork countryside and the cotton-wool sky.
A further walk along the contour of Quainton Hill to the edge of Simber Hill and a sit among the buttercups to have ham, brie and rocket wraps and ol' faithful ready-salted Hula Hoops. We started to cool down in the evening air so we paced our way quickly up the next small peak and watched a man training a dog from the top of the hill before heading down into Quainton village.
Quainton is very pretty and tidy, the people friendly and the 17th-century Almshouses near the main church are beautiful period buildings. I could have happily spent more time exploring the village but on we pushed past Denham Farm and up another hill, stopping to admire a few circling red kites then buzzed by two buzzards whose markings were beautifully visible. After the next field was the most intriguing tree. An old ash with simple holes around its roots where supposed fairies could live, it turns out an older tree has been 'cored' by a younger tree whose trunk it surrounds and houses. Tracey called it her favourite tree ever.
Over the hill, down and over the road into a field of sheep and one horse who seemed magnetically attracted to Tracey. Once the horse had vetted her she was approached by the sheep. Word must've spread because we were soon accosted by a herd of teenage cows and one big Bessie who rasped Tracey's bag with her huge tongue and let her stroke her head.
The remaining walk back to the car was flat and unremarkable except for numerous hares and the low sun which cast a gorgeous orange light on the country.
There's a longer route around here I'd like to try which skirts Oving, possibly two or three miles longer, so I hope to convince someone mad enough to do ten miles to come out with me and explore the next hills along.
