I say “short” as I usually take a slightly longer route between Leckhampstead and Akeley, but there’s a story attached to this. When I first got into walking I tried to encourage my daughter to come out with me because it’s something I’d really enjoyed doing with my parents as a youngster. I bought her some boots and a little rucksack and we had a couple of successful short walks.
One sunny day I asked if she’d like to try five miles with me and go to look for four-leafed clovers. We walked out to Foscote, then Leckhampstead, stopping on the bench at the T-junction to each our lunch in the sun (insert smiling dandelions photo).
After our break we set off intending to follow the short path back to Akeley, but my map-reading skills weren’t as honed as they are now and I couldn’t find the shorter path, so we walked up past a farm and out the back route to Akeley, stopping again to rest in a big patch of clover to search for the elusive four-leaf. After fifteen minutes of looking we gave up and stood up to go, and Sophie looked down and shouted “There’s one!” and gently picked it out of the ground. I think she still has it somewhere to this day.
Unfortunately, as that walk was around seven and a half miles, her little legs ached like hell when she got back and it’s put her off walking since. I’m absolutely gutted about this, I must admit, as I feel like my mistake has ruined something we could do together, something I really enjoy and has the potential to be good for her too. I’d love it if we could share some of my shorter walks; I think she’d get great benefits from walking in general and I hope she takes it up in future. I won’t push it, though, as I think there’s something special to be gained from discovering it yourself.
So, the shorter walk. I set out for my staple five-mile circuit with a client for Walking for Wellbeing, but it was a no-show. Despite my disappointment, as the day looked nice enough I decided to carry on anyway, perhaps adding a couple of miles by getting out to Leckhampstead. Within a few metres a lady blackbird flew across my path and stood on a nearby fence with a beak-full of twigs and brush, checking me out a while before jumping into a bush to build her nest. I walked through Maids Moreton, past heavily-populated rugby pitches and into the fields. Most of the way across the first field and BOOM! A scare-crow cannon in the next field scared the crap out of me as I babbled along to myself. Down the hill to Beatles Cove – named by my daughter as a place her and her friend go to and, apparently, do very similar walk-and-talks to Walking for Wellbeing. It’s a lovely spot with a huge oak overhanging a brook shallow enough to paddle, its roots twisting out of the earth and providing a nice place to sit. I occasionally come out here myself just to get away from it all, and it’s lost none of its charm over the winter.
Across to Foscote where I saw the year’s first lambs – March 6th 2011. They weren’t gambolling or bouncing around so I guess they were pretty new. Their mothers looked at me almost expectantly as I walked past. As I passed the manor house and entered the next field a kestrel was putting on a display, circling right over my head, so I sat on the tree stump a while to watch in wonder at its mastery of the sky. Down then up for a kilometre into Leckhampstead, all this while talking to myself to get stuff out of my head. I’ve done this a little in the past but today I must’ve spent around an hour talking and asking myself questions, a little self-therapy if you will. I found it most beneficial and came to some interesting conclusions which I’ll save for a post in another blog.
Skirting Leckhampstead village, I followed the road a short distance toward Akeley and took the path under the pylons, then downhill to the bridge over the stream. This really is a gorgeous spot, spoiled only slightly by the crackling electricity wires overhead. By this point the skies had cleared somewhat and the clouds were becoming less formed and more scattered. I sat and rolled up my sleeves and took out my map.
Here’s where the story above comes in. As I sat by the babbling stream at the bottom of the hill, soaking up some of the evasive sunshine and rubbing it all over my face, I remembered the dilemma Sophie and I faced as we arrived here that time. I looked again on the map and saw my mistake instantly – I’d been looking for the path on the wrong side of the stream! After ten minutes or so I packed my fleece into my rucksack and, with sleeves still high, set off back up the hill, spotting the stile instantly I reached the peak. From here it hugged hedgerows scattered with chaffinches and intended to cross a small crop field to the opposite corner but as there was no obvious sign of the crossing, I stuck to the track and reached the road, turning right and recceing where the path should have been before crossing the road and heading towards Akeley village.
With the sun still in effect, I headed back to Maids Moreton via the usual route, behind the houses, across two small fields to the top of the long, muddy field which, while as long as usual, was thankfully nowhere near as muddy. Up and across, then follow the hedgerows back to the road at the village. When I came around the corner I spotted something I’d not seen before, perhaps due to overgrowth or sheer determination to get home: a public footpath on the opposite side of the road. The path crosses behind the vets and past the allotments, through perhaps the craziest narrowest stile/crossing I’ve ever seen which I had to remove my rucksack to get through, across various rugby pitches and a field to join the new estate where I live. This is a much more scenic route that heading back through the village along the main road and I’ll definitely be using this one from now on.
This was a cracker. It may even become my new staple route, seeing as I can do the other 5.2-mile one in about an hour and a half now. Honestly, I’m so glad I got out and even happier the sunshine accompanied me for much of the way. I’m writing this the day after the walk and I’m enthused again by the sunny weather, planning a walk to Milton Keynes this evening to catch a bus back.
I think this proves something I’ve been feeling for a while: the winter grey has been here far, far too long. I haven’t suffered strong symptoms of SAD for in the few years since I had my therapy, but this year along with other contributing factors the relentless lack of colour outside has really affected my mood and motivation for walking. I’d become sick of the drab countryside, the limited visibility, the way all my photos were underexposed and lifeless, the constant desire for a sunny walk never fulfilled. It’s been grey for many months with few exceptions, and the short days have meant that those exceptions are short-lived. I’m pleased to see the sun again now, and I’m going to make the most of it today and tomorrow to lift my mood and get some more miles on me. I’ve been slack this past couple of weeks, really slack, so it’s time to get back on it.
I hope the weather agrees with me.
One sunny day I asked if she’d like to try five miles with me and go to look for four-leafed clovers. We walked out to Foscote, then Leckhampstead, stopping on the bench at the T-junction to each our lunch in the sun (insert smiling dandelions photo).
After our break we set off intending to follow the short path back to Akeley, but my map-reading skills weren’t as honed as they are now and I couldn’t find the shorter path, so we walked up past a farm and out the back route to Akeley, stopping again to rest in a big patch of clover to search for the elusive four-leaf. After fifteen minutes of looking we gave up and stood up to go, and Sophie looked down and shouted “There’s one!” and gently picked it out of the ground. I think she still has it somewhere to this day.
Unfortunately, as that walk was around seven and a half miles, her little legs ached like hell when she got back and it’s put her off walking since. I’m absolutely gutted about this, I must admit, as I feel like my mistake has ruined something we could do together, something I really enjoy and has the potential to be good for her too. I’d love it if we could share some of my shorter walks; I think she’d get great benefits from walking in general and I hope she takes it up in future. I won’t push it, though, as I think there’s something special to be gained from discovering it yourself.
So, the shorter walk. I set out for my staple five-mile circuit with a client for Walking for Wellbeing, but it was a no-show. Despite my disappointment, as the day looked nice enough I decided to carry on anyway, perhaps adding a couple of miles by getting out to Leckhampstead. Within a few metres a lady blackbird flew across my path and stood on a nearby fence with a beak-full of twigs and brush, checking me out a while before jumping into a bush to build her nest. I walked through Maids Moreton, past heavily-populated rugby pitches and into the fields. Most of the way across the first field and BOOM! A scare-crow cannon in the next field scared the crap out of me as I babbled along to myself. Down the hill to Beatles Cove – named by my daughter as a place her and her friend go to and, apparently, do very similar walk-and-talks to Walking for Wellbeing. It’s a lovely spot with a huge oak overhanging a brook shallow enough to paddle, its roots twisting out of the earth and providing a nice place to sit. I occasionally come out here myself just to get away from it all, and it’s lost none of its charm over the winter.
Across to Foscote where I saw the year’s first lambs – March 6th 2011. They weren’t gambolling or bouncing around so I guess they were pretty new. Their mothers looked at me almost expectantly as I walked past. As I passed the manor house and entered the next field a kestrel was putting on a display, circling right over my head, so I sat on the tree stump a while to watch in wonder at its mastery of the sky. Down then up for a kilometre into Leckhampstead, all this while talking to myself to get stuff out of my head. I’ve done this a little in the past but today I must’ve spent around an hour talking and asking myself questions, a little self-therapy if you will. I found it most beneficial and came to some interesting conclusions which I’ll save for a post in another blog.
Skirting Leckhampstead village, I followed the road a short distance toward Akeley and took the path under the pylons, then downhill to the bridge over the stream. This really is a gorgeous spot, spoiled only slightly by the crackling electricity wires overhead. By this point the skies had cleared somewhat and the clouds were becoming less formed and more scattered. I sat and rolled up my sleeves and took out my map.
Here’s where the story above comes in. As I sat by the babbling stream at the bottom of the hill, soaking up some of the evasive sunshine and rubbing it all over my face, I remembered the dilemma Sophie and I faced as we arrived here that time. I looked again on the map and saw my mistake instantly – I’d been looking for the path on the wrong side of the stream! After ten minutes or so I packed my fleece into my rucksack and, with sleeves still high, set off back up the hill, spotting the stile instantly I reached the peak. From here it hugged hedgerows scattered with chaffinches and intended to cross a small crop field to the opposite corner but as there was no obvious sign of the crossing, I stuck to the track and reached the road, turning right and recceing where the path should have been before crossing the road and heading towards Akeley village.
With the sun still in effect, I headed back to Maids Moreton via the usual route, behind the houses, across two small fields to the top of the long, muddy field which, while as long as usual, was thankfully nowhere near as muddy. Up and across, then follow the hedgerows back to the road at the village. When I came around the corner I spotted something I’d not seen before, perhaps due to overgrowth or sheer determination to get home: a public footpath on the opposite side of the road. The path crosses behind the vets and past the allotments, through perhaps the craziest narrowest stile/crossing I’ve ever seen which I had to remove my rucksack to get through, across various rugby pitches and a field to join the new estate where I live. This is a much more scenic route that heading back through the village along the main road and I’ll definitely be using this one from now on.
This was a cracker. It may even become my new staple route, seeing as I can do the other 5.2-mile one in about an hour and a half now. Honestly, I’m so glad I got out and even happier the sunshine accompanied me for much of the way. I’m writing this the day after the walk and I’m enthused again by the sunny weather, planning a walk to Milton Keynes this evening to catch a bus back.
I think this proves something I’ve been feeling for a while: the winter grey has been here far, far too long. I haven’t suffered strong symptoms of SAD for in the few years since I had my therapy, but this year along with other contributing factors the relentless lack of colour outside has really affected my mood and motivation for walking. I’d become sick of the drab countryside, the limited visibility, the way all my photos were underexposed and lifeless, the constant desire for a sunny walk never fulfilled. It’s been grey for many months with few exceptions, and the short days have meant that those exceptions are short-lived. I’m pleased to see the sun again now, and I’m going to make the most of it today and tomorrow to lift my mood and get some more miles on me. I’ve been slack this past couple of weeks, really slack, so it’s time to get back on it.
I hope the weather agrees with me.
