I thought I would stretch my legs on the Ridgeway Trail in western England. It’s close to where I am staying and it has been around for a millennium. Or there about.
My dear friend Belinda (now remember, pronounced Belinder over here) dropped me off near the town of Ashbury, left me and bid me a nice walk. It was drizzling and overcast. But since it was drizzling, naturally, it was overcast.
The hike, which should have given me splendid views of the valleys, only gave me rain and dicey footing. But it was still a great trail. And while in the states my hiking has been through trees, this is wide open.
I walked a few miles and aimed for Sparsholt, which Belinda assured me had a great pub. She wasn’t wrong. While I was soaked to the skin, they served me a wonderful Caprisse Salad and then white fish and salmon cakes in a cilantro green sauce. It was superb. And served with a couple pints of the local bitter.
Now the good news is, I look great in my Fjallraven jacket and pants. The bad news is, they are not waterproof as promised. I am soaking wet.
After lunch, I plotted a course back to Nick and Belinda’s in the village of Longcot and needless to say got a bit twisted around, and what was supposed to be a three hour tour (thank you Gillligan for the reference) took a bit longer.
Dinner was with Nick, Belinda and two of their neghbors I had met several times before, Simon and Andie. We ate at the local pub (The King and Queen). The food was outstanding, the conversation interesting (apparently the UK is thinking of leaving some sort of club they are in) and all and all, a damn fine day.
Tomorrow Oxford and then into London to catch the overnight train, The Caledonian Sleeper to Inverness. And here’s hoping the Fjallraven store in Coventry Garden, London, can apply their special wax, hot seal it and waterproof my jacket and pants.