dovegreyreader scribbles

3.1.12 after the storm...

The first storm of 2012 and this house most certainly had one of those Ted Hughes-like encounters ... far out at sea all night, The woods crashing through darkness, the booming hills, winds stampeding the fields etc, and how we wished that 'someone' had climbed up on the roof during the summer to apply some WD40 to the lofty chicken which squeaked and rumbled painfully overhead...

The phone line has gone down and the broadband gasps into life for about five minutes at a time every two hours or so. But I finally managed to pull on the walking boots and dodge the rain later in the afternoon and head out for my daily two miler...

Always worth making the effort to see that glorious sky.

Hope you are all safe and warm.

April walking...

Has anyone, apart from the genuinely genetically Nordic among you who probably do it without even trying, tried this Nordic walking thing??

    Invented in the 1930s to help the skiers keep fit when there was no snow, and after a couple of weeks walking respite nursing a bit of a flimsy back and rubbish knees I am back out and about but with some walking aids in the shape of two long walking poles, which I'm calling Nordic though they are not the proper job. I had seen a Nordic walking course advertised locally so I looked it up and decided that perhaps I could avoid the Nordic bit but make sensible use of the poles which apparently take the strain off the knees, tone the bingo wings and generally seem like an all round good idea.

    I dug out the old extendable Brasher walking poles circa Swiss Alpine excursion 2002, and legendary for being borrowed for a photoshoot by a group of Japanese tourists at the top of the Jungfrau. Bookhound and I looking the part for a bit of snowy high-altitude mountain-top walking in July, whilst the scantily-clad tourists had dashed outside for a photo and asked to borrow the poles so it would look as if they were really meant to be doing something serious, when in fact they'd been sitting in the cafe writing postcards. Of course we obliged and took the photos for them too.

    Anyway, I thought these would do, except they wouldn't because the tightening washers have split and the poles kept collapsing at unexpected moments. So spotting a pair of Craghopper poles reduced from £60 to £12 seemed like a good enough bargain and I'm up and away with the whole thing now. It is a bit like that sensation you have when you swim with flippers on and think you'd probably be able to cross the channel in about half an hour, and I fair flew around one of my uphill-down-valley routes recently and couldn't quite believe the difference. Instead of putting my back into the uphill slog this is all about the arms assisting, and though I don't think I've got the Nordic technique right at all, with the poles adjusted to the right height, I'm happy enough with my version.

    Trekking through a 'new-to-me-this-winter' wood that looked a bit sparse a few weeks ago, it's obvious that if I go back now it's going to be a sea of bluebells, and moments after I took this picture a fox ran in front of me, stopped and stared and darted off again. Justification for the pang of guilt I always feel at not taking a dog with me, setting off from home with those big eyes watching me as I walk past the kennel, but knowing I would see nothing with a dog snuffling up ahead of me.


Could it be two cold winters are making some flowers more prolific this spring? We've certainly never seen quite such a profusion of Devon violets in the hedgerows and I'll be back to capture those bluebells soon.

I'm always a little nervous about traversing fields of cows, because you do hear of people being trampled (even though the Gamekeeper tells me I must just stand my ground and not run) so I was a little daunted to find a route now considered my own personal walking territory, and one that's been uninhabited all winter, now has residents.

    This is all public footpath so I have to cross that little footbridge over the stream, skirt the lower left boundary of this field, try not to fall into that vast and very deep badger sett on the way up and hop over a stile into the woodland just around that bend which then takes me onto the Gamekeeper's estate and I just hope he's not out shooting pigeons and hits this dove by mistake...no he wouldn't, he's very careful and I do check first.

    Spotting signs that this was a dairy herd, I was encouraged and worked on the principle that they go nowhere fast and even I could go faster if needs be. Plus I'll be going nowhere this summer if I don't pluck up the courage to go through the stock occasionally. If I'm honest, far worse-a prospect was turning round and walking home up the incredibly steep wooded hill I'd just come down, the way ahead is still about four miles from home but gentler.

As you can see, 'not bothered' was the order of the day and I hopped over the stile feeling quite relieved.

Along the way a wild flower that I hadn't seen around here before and now diagnosed as a Wood Anemone, I think, but I'll await your confirmation.

 

dovegreyreader walks to Swiss Cottage...

No not the London one because Devon has a Swiss Cottage of its own, and some of you are not experiencing deja vue, this post did go up a little embryonically and too soon last week and I quickly retrieved it for a bit more tweaking.

Setting off on my weekly Archers podcast Amble I decided to head across from home to the Endsleigh estate because it really is my summer daylight plan to walk there on Endsleigh Salon book group evenings and I wanted a rough idea of how long it might take me.... note I only said 'there', the plan also includes Part B which entails Bookhound meeting me at the end of the drive for a lift home at 10pm.

Well suffice to say if I leave home at 6.30pm I'll be there for about 7.15pm though probably in need of a shower because yet another long uphill slog, which seems so easy in the car but needed three breathers, before descending down into the dip into which Endsleigh nestles. Looking across towards Endsleigh, one of the visible features is Fisheries Cottage and nearby I knew was a property owned by The Landmark Trust, Swiss Cottage which I have seen pictures of but had never actually walked to, so I made that my destination.

The Landmark Trust a treasure trove of wonderful properties around the UK...

...... a building preservation charity, founded in 1965 by the late Sir John Smith and Lady Smith. It was established to rescue historic and architecturally interesting buildings and their surroundings from neglect and, when restored, to give them new life by letting them as places to experience for holidays.

No signs that said Private so I walked up the track, past Fisheries Cottage and met two people coming out of Swiss Cottage. Heck , I thought, holiday makers here for a bit of peace and quiet, won't want a rambler spoiling their solitude, better turn around, but it was my lucky day. Lou works for The Landmark Trust and was staying for the weekend with her husband Tony and doing an appraisal of the property.


Landmark Trust you have a treasure in Lou. You know what it's like when you live near somewhere and have always wanted to have a look inside... well Tony and Lou invited me in and showed me round the immaculately furnished, tiny rooms, all with fireplaces and all just oozing that 1800's atmosphere.

Swiss Cottage was built by the Bedfords in about 1815 as a spot for shooting lunches and picnics, and of course those of us who have read Mistress of the Arts by Rachel Trethewey will know that this place holds even more significance.... so there I was imagining Georgiana and the artist Landseer and their romantic trysts, conducting their probably not so secret affair in this idyllic little spot far away from the prying eyes of the Big House. I'd have given my eye teeth to have had the time to sit down and read the little book of local history and relevant articles that The Landmark Trust place in all their properties, along with a shelf full of even more relevant books that caught my eye.

The views from that balcony must be some of the most stunning in the county, if not the country...

and the view from the bedroom window up under the eaves looking down high above the River Tamar enough to make your soul sing even on an overcast day.

As always at Endsleigh, looking at what's underfoot bears its own reward...

and then I look up again and somehow I can't take in enough of this view...

But Lou and Tony had their weekend to get on with so I took my leave and set off for home with glad heart. I was back in the door in what seemed a thrice, didn't notice the hills, just happy to have had such a lovely and very unexpected morning and what a lucky chance meeting that was... thanks again Lou and Tony.

 

dovegreywalkers...

Still doing it apart from the day it really was tipping down. I'm boring for England on the joys of my Omron pedometer whilst walking the highways and byways, daily short walks with one much longer one each week and I'm now completely up to date with The Archers omnibus podcast .... everyone's grief at Nigel's terminal plummet is playing out slowly and it's interesting trying to predict where the plot will go next, but all I can say is that I think that baby of Helen's has read 101 Things to Do Before You Are Five and has this tucked up the sleeve of his babygro...

5 ~ Sleep Like a Baby Stay Up All Night

Lull your parents into a false sense of security in the first three days after you you're born by sleeping soundly 99 per cent of the time...clearly you're a very very easy baby.
Once the friends have drifted away and granny's gone home safe in the knowledge she's not needed, it's time to wake up and stay awake.

And it's only a matter of time before Helen develops post-natal depression I can sense it coming and I'm worried for Lily and Freddy, Nigel's children, and Jolene's obviously got her eye on Kenton and Ruth's getting antsy with David for not being around and how long before Elizabeth crumbles ... sorry, this must seem like tortuous rubbish to anyone who doesn't partake but I'm hooked in again. My only beef is that all that cooking of radio breakfasts had me starving before I'd even reached the end of the lane.

So half of The Archers podcast (and aren't podcasts just brilliant) gets me to here...

The half a mile or so stretch of green lane that does terrible things to my nice shiny shoes. I also learn from the Gamekeeper that this is called Maggie Purly lane by the locals and is haunted by the ghost of Maggie who hanged herself at these crossroads. We know no more so I have asked for a bit more detail.

So this week I by-passed the mud and headed down towards the river Tamar by more direct routes. Please note the word 'down' which will inevitably involve the word 'up' very soon after. I put it off for a while by crossing the bridge and walking part of the Tamar Valley Trail on the Cornwall side until it was obvious it had to be done.

I think you'd be proud of me because Bookhound had very temptingly suggested that if I didn't fancy the hill to home I could ring and he'd come and get me, but what is this all about, no loss without pain etc so I just want to tell you that, though it might not look like it (and how do you make a hill look steep in a photo?) this one is an absolute killer, long, steep and seemingly never-ending.

The occasional car passed me by full of enormous great big fat jolly unfit people about to tuck into a huge cholesterol and saturated fat-laden roast dinner down at the pub... well the cars probably were full of very fit racing-snake thin people, I just kept telling myself that to feel better, but to be honest by this time I'm in need of a life-support machine and could hardly see straight to be 100% sure.

The view back down to the river confirms what my heart rate and inner thermostat is telling me...that was 'upness' and I'm thinking about concealing an oxygen cylinder somewhere around this point.

Then once I crest the hill I walk along the flat for a while which is like being off life-support and in the recovery room, I then turn a sharp bend and see this...

More of the same but gentler and nearly at the 'only 3000 paces to go' point when I can ring ahead for the kettle to go on. By this time The Archers omnibus has long finised and I've caught up on Open Book and Mariella shredding Sebastian Faulks over his definition of heroes, and his slippery side-stepping of where the women fit into his new TV series... had I had the puff I'd have been singing 'Go Mariella...' as it was I left her to it and she managed fine without my help.

So at this point it's time for Desert Island Discs because in the absence of oxygen only music is going to get me home now. I'm way behind so last week I listened to Robert Harris and I liked him a lot, seems like a normal down-to-earth chap and I'm reminded how much I have enjoyed his books in the past. I am taking Howard Jacobson out with me next time because I heard a snatch of it this week and he sounded like a very normal-down-to-earth chap as well.

14,000 paces done on this journey and a lie down required... how are all you other walkers doing?

 

 

dovegreywalkers

Whatever happened to The Proclaimers and that song ' And ay wuud wuk wun hundrid miles...' because I've got the song on the brain now and find myself singing it every time I stride out of the gate, because yes, this walking thing is really happening. I'm going to become a talking/walking/pedometer bore for a moment but I wanted to thank nanosecond for the link and encouragement a few weeks ago on this post with mention of the the trans-America virtual walk which I think one or two of us here have signed up for. You register, log your daily mileage and the map tracks your course across the USA from East Coast to West which adds extra incentive to those miles, so if anyone wants to partner me I'm 63898, and I have set up a team, dovegreywalkers.
Are we going past anyone's house yet?
A cup of tea would be lovely...

Having decided that I was not going to get one jot fitter sitting behind my desk, or an ounce lighter reading a book, this little project has given me some much-needed January motivation to get the shoes on and walk with a purpose. There's no point in me joining a gym because all I do is bypass the painful things to seek out the exercise bike that looks like an armchair, settle into it comfortably with an audio book playing on the headphones and emerge with calves and thighs the size of tree trunks (Redwoods at minimum) but little aerobic or weight-bearing fitness achieved.

So I set myself up to pass with the walking by pitching my target pitifully low but achievable at 5 miles a week, a bit like the way you used to have to 'run in' the engine in a new car (I'm just an older model with a bit of a spluttery engine) and decided I'd use the lane as my treadmill. Though treadmill, with all its connotations of repetitive boredom couldn't be further from the reality because it's no hardship to be out there enjoying the scenery. End to end it's 1.3 miles but I have conjured up all manner of permutations to achieve distance and variety each time I nip out and to my astonishment easily clocked up 40 miles through January, thus doubling my target.

Out of the gate turn left, go as far as the dip, turn round come back past the house and as far as the farm track...or turn right go as far as the farm track and back to the other end. Or when I have a little more time walk across to the little Methodist chapel and back (5000 plus steps, about 2 miles) I can ring the changes and have noticed a real difference up the hills after just a few weeks  and don't they just look like little slopes when you drive them? I now know we live ON THE TOP OF A HILL. It's amazing when I can slot in 4000 paces, because I also have my Omron pedometer to guide me and which I must stop calling a pacemaker.

I bought one for Bookhound too which he cleverly tried to 'lose' on day two, but luckily for him someone found it in Morrison's and handed it in... he rang back around his footsteps just in case and there it was.

But how often do I sit and wait and sigh while my computer switches on and decides to update everything and then asks to be restarted... twenty minutes in which I now grab the shoes and power up to the top of the lane and back.

The Omron arrived and I duly set it up and went out for a trial walk, came home, 4500 paces later and announced gleefully that 34 minutes of those were indeed aerobic paces which had used up 7.6gms of fat....

'Great' said the very helpful and encouraging Kayaker, ' that's a bacon sarnie in the bank mother.'

It's all about mindset and motivation and there's something about adding in a pedometer that addresses both, making me keen to waste no opportunity in walking as often as I can. I was always the one to moan when Bookhound parked the car in the furthest corner of the Tesco's carpark and we seemed to walk miles to the entrance. Now I'm thinking we'll park at Tesco's in Plymouth and walk to Tesco's in Launceston to shop.

Once a week at least I really am going for the five miler complete with map, rucksack, water, banana, plasters, waterproofs, camera, kitchen sink, iTouch, headphones...the incredibly comfortable ones that come with the £3.50 entertainment carriage package on the train, and hook around outside my ears so that I can hear the tractors. Last week I found a new (to me) green lane which brought me out high above the Tamar and in a part I hadn't explored on foot before.

And on the way I'd listened to The Archers omnibus, two episodes of Open Book and some Desert Island Discs and I wanted to tell Sandy Shaw she might get bored with those choices after a week, but perhaps not if they mean something special to her. The only trouble with the green lanes is their unpredictability,  fine and dandy for horses but very likely to be impassably muddy for humans and at one point my lovely shiny Brasher walking shoes, you know the ones that shine like conkers after years of being polished and loved, had been transformed from this

to this...

With obesity problems and all the health-related issues now ranking high on the agenda here in the UK, I can't believe that someone hasn't  thought about setting up a Trans-UK virtual walking equivalent or something related to the coastal paths perhaps. Fortunately we're near enough to go and do those and have some in our sights this year, but just imagine the glorious virtual scenery the UK could be sharing around the world. As regards the Trans-American crossing, I'm sure the view will improve, but I'm here and passing Kittewan Creek apparently.

So I think Devon might be winning on scenic route points, because there's nothing nicer, as I walk my way around in a giant circle, than seeing home in the distance.

I can ring ahead from this point and say get the kettle on I'll be there in about 8000 paces....which is of course another couple of bacon sarnies in the bank.