Starting out at the Robin Hood pub at Buffler's Holt, through a very overgrown stile into a very overgrown verge and a field with thick dry rape over a metre high, the margin thick with goose grass and tall thistles leading into a ditch. I tried the bottom and top of the field but was turned back by the vegetation. I tried one set of tractor lines but the rape was impassable. Walking back down the hill I spotted more tractor lines which were slightly less overgrown and pushed my way through to the bottom of the field and a fence. I hoofed it over the fence and down the hill, stopping twice to get my bearings and work out where the hell I was going. The first mile of this walk took me twenty minutes and I was thoroughly pissed-off, although once I got into my stride I was smiling... For a moment. I'd forgtten to bring any water out with me! This was to prove part of my undoing later on.
After the difficult start, the walk over to Water Stratford was pleasing; hilly, along a stream populated with swooping swallows, across farmland, past a vocal cockerel to talk to a twitchy, friendly farmer who was very interested in my route. Briefly through Water Stratford and along my previously-walked route to Westbury past the perpetually-busy Fields Barn and downhill to the church. Another brief village encounter past the new development at the mill in Westbury then out into instant countryside.
Over the brook, onto the old railway track and west. Having opened the map out to write this entry I see that the track I followed is connected to the old railway track in Buckingham, which I know like the back of my hand. It wasn't visually obvious that the path doesn't follow the abandoned railway, and a cordial man jogged past me and up the track, so I followed and really enjoyed the mile walk along towards Brackley. After a bridge and at the water, I turned north for 1.5 miles past Turweston, then east through the aerodrome and back onto the road to join the path east.
This stretch of wood is beautiful. Almost the whole walk from Turweston to Wood Green is under cover and would be ideal for a hot sunny day where shade is essential around midday. It was under cloudy skies with drizzle that I really started to regret not having water with me. Puddles started to look appetising, tiny pools of water on leaves became possible opportunities to quench my thirst. I imagined that would be how someone stranded in a desert might feel, only somewhat less nagging and imperative. I decided during the woods that I'd get to Dadford and call for a ride home as I was starting to feel decidedly pokey and the idea that I still had six or seven miles to cover wasn't filling me with the usual excitement.
When I came to the end of the track out onto the road I was somewhat surprised. In my visualisation of how far I had to go I'd spectacularly failed to remember almost two miles of walking between Wood Green and Dadford.
I'd had it. I was resigned, thirsty, annoyed with myself for forgetting water and overwhelmed with how far I still had to go. I called for a cab and went home. I'm disappointed to abandon a big walk only two-thirds along, although I'd done five hilly miles the day before. However, I woke up the next morning with a raging cold; sniffles, sore throat, headache, the lot. On reflection, it's hardly surprising I wasn't up to the challenge and I'm giving myself a break because of that. I hope to do another 10-15 miles this week to keep myself in rhythm and try to get two good distances done next week, in training for a big one in September.
