Oh my goodness, today was a mega walk with about 500 photos, emotions, physical pain and moments of enlightenment. It had it all. It seems as though the best walks are those that begin with no plan other than to just go outside and pick a direction.
Today's direction was past the rugby club, where they were sprinkling the pitch – wonder if that means they're expecting to be able to play soon or if they're just keeping the grass nice for when they can play. Does grass need to be kept nice for rugby? I guess it must, otherwise they'd be playing in a swamp.
There's a cute little path alongside the rugby club, so I hopped onto this to avoid being squished on the tiny road.
The path takes you past the cricket club as well, where nothing is going on. I suppose cricket could be played because cricketers don't get very close to one another? I don't know, really – cricket is a mystery to me. Anyone who understands the rules must be a genius, I think.
Onwards! So, the path isn't very long and you end up in the road anyway. But you can't go that way, and I've been the other way (past the crematorium) lots of times recently, so it was time to explore some different ways.
I found a new path. This didn't used to be here and it was built alongside the new road. Great! I decided to see where this would take me.
Turned out that it just took me back to the main road, which wasn't all that surprising. Hmmm, I thought to myself, I don't really want to just walk around familiar roads. Think, Linda, think!
But then, another new path presented itself. Ooooh, look at that! Where does that go? I had no idea because I'd never noticed this path before. I didn't even know if it was new or if I'd just always walked past it without seeing it.
There was only one possible thing to do, and that was see to where it led.
Aren't pylons scary? They sing a terrible and sinister, low-pitched humming song of danger and death, and I really don't like walking past them. That's all I have to say about that.
Crunching my way along this gravelly path, I came to a fork in the road. We always like a fork in the road, and I invariably choose the wrong way.
I chose the wrong way again and came to a firmly locked gate. I did think about climbing over it and tramping off across a private field, but I don't know the rules about such things so decided I'd better not.
I took this path instead, which looked very innocent:
It's nice to see that the trees they planted when the new road was built are actually growing properly. You see these, don't you, along new roads – these little plastic tubes with a couple of leaves poking out of the top – and the trees don't seem to do very well. But look at these – thriving! I don't know what they are, other than trees, with green leaves.
Ah, so, I've just looked up the leaf shapes and most of them seem to be oak. That's very cool!
I got to the end of that particular path and found myself here. I suspected I knew which road I was facing, and because I didn't want to walk familiar pavements, I headed in the opposite direction. I decided that, as long as there was a path to follow, I would continue to follow it. Lots of energy in my legs, so I shouldn't get into trouble by finding myself lost and miles from home.
Ah, that's more like it – no houses in sight and a road I didn't recognise. Just what I was after. Adventure! I suppose it's terrible, really, that I've never walked here before, even though my house is only half a mile away. Doesn't matter, though, in the grand scheme – I'm walking now, and that is what matters.
So I walked, and walked, and carried on walking. I grinned to myself because I'm quite smug about the fact that I am now a walker, I listened to the gravel crunching under my trainers, and I stopped now and then to look at a field or a flower or a bird; it was all very zen. I also wondered whether it would rain and I would finally get soaked the skin, like I've been hoping, because we've had a very dry spring.
A planted field. Marvellous! I'll come this way again some time and see how whatever has been planted here has grown.
I had it in mind by now that I'd like to walk to Slyne. This is what tends to happen, I find – I'm walking with no purpose or direction and then something stirs in my memory and I finally know where I want to go. I knew that it was at least a mile to Slyne and then probably another two miles from there to my house, so that seemed like a very good plan to rack up some lovely miles.
Happily, I found myself on the right road. Now, although I said I didn't want to walk familiar roads, I meant roads that I've walked on lots of times. This is not one of those. I've driven on this road hundreds of times but never walked on it, so this still counts as an adventure. It's quite a long road too.
The wonderful thing about walking is that you notice things you wouldn't if you were in the car. Such as these cows. I had no idea there was a cow field here because I'm usually whizzing down the lane and in a rush to get home ... for no good reason. Funny how a simple thing such as making yourself go outside once a day can have such a profound impact on your whole life and outlook. I stopped by this field for a good 15 minutes to just watch the cows. You know how the other day I said I didn't trust cows and that they were evil? I don't feel like that anymore, which is good. These cows were really rather beautiful – I suddenly just got it, you know? They wandered around the field, following their noses, munching and making milk, not in the least bit bothered that they were being watched – and they did know they were being watched because sometimes they looked up to watch me back.
Lovely.
Onwards, again! Many miles to go.
Arty bridge shot. It occurred to me that this bridge is probably really, really old. That's all I have to say about that.
The next thing that occurred to me (because a lot of things occurred to me today) was that I hadn't passed a farmhouse on any of my walks so far. So here is one. Well, I guess it's not because it's a barn, but the farmhouse was round the other side. True to form, this one smelled ... sweet and pungent, as farms do.
Further on, you'll never believe it, but I found the canal again. Again! All roads lead to the canal, seemingly. It's a crafty little canal, always wanting to get in my photos, being a bit needy. I told you, it's turning into a character. It hasn't spoken to me yet, but it's only a matter of time.
Look at it, always demanding two photos, one in each direction. And I thought I was vain.
The wee bridge over the canal would have been the perfect spot for a quick break and a snack, but the roads are getting a little busy again so I couldn't stay here – the bridge is too narrow for a person and a car. But I did stay long enough to snap this nice field. It's a good one, that, eh?
I spent the next bit of my journey deep in thought about what this road was called. You know when there's something on the tip of your tongue? That. There's another road a few miles away that looks similar to this one, and that's colloquially known the Switchbacks, but that's not this road. But all I could think was 'Switchbacks, no, it's not that ... I know it's not the Switchbacks, but it's something like that'. Now I'm doubting even that because I've Googled the Switchbacks and can't find any reference to it at all – maybe I've made it up.
Another little rest stop, which I deserved because I'd just done a bit of a hill. There's Morecambe. Awww, little Morecambe.
Hasty Brow, that was it! So, actually, nothing like the Switchbacks. It's very often the case that the word on the tip of your tongue is not the word you thought it was, don't you find?
I'd made it to Slyne. Well done, me. Now then, where to next? This is something about walking that I particularly love when I know where I am. A crossroads is delightful! Should I go left, which would take me to Hest Bank and the prom?
Straight on, which would take me to a pub?
Or right, which would take me home?
I definitely wasn't ready to go home, and Morecambe was much too far and I'd be likely to fall into difficulty with my dodgy hips, so straight on to the closed pub it was. Past some lovely fields ...
And I was there, at the Cross Keys. Aww, had some lovely times here. And, oooooh, they do serve gorgeous food. This pub has gone to the top of the 'places to go after lockdown' list. Lovely beer gard– STOP IT, LINDA! Everyone wants to go to the pub and you're making them sad!
Sorry.
Thinking about delicious meals and having nothing substantial with me to eat made me realise that it was probably time to go home. The way was before me, just two big roads, so I dug in and set off again after my snack of half a Snickers. Little bit of rain, a pleasant cool breeze and lots of fields – I really was having a glorious time.
Now then, this field is a special one. Matthew and I used to pass it every morning after dropping his brothers off at their school and just before arriving at his school. It's a new field, made from the stuff that was dug up to make the new road. We watched the field being built, then we watched it being levelled, then we watched it being planted, then we watched it turn from brown to yellow to green, before we finally watched it becoming home to sheep and now cows. And every morning, we sang the song that Matthew thought up to count the days to the next school holiday, but I can't tell you the song because it's secret and no else will ever hear it.
I had to do a little bit of a hill after this – over the bridge that was built at the same time as the field. That was kind of cool, but my legs were feeling it now.
And then I was at Matthew's old school. I decided to show it to you because it has its own website and everything and there are no children in the photo, so I guess it's fine. This school has taken up ... let me think ... 17 years of my life, because it was my primary school for seven years, and then all of my boys came here. And it's over now. I've no reason to ever visit this school again, which makes me a bit sad.
Onwards, though! Because, man, I was starving by this time and also starting to limp because almost everything was hurting.
Except that I saw this path up into the park and, because exercise does that weird thing of making you want to push yourself even though you said you weren't really bothered about pushing yourself, I hauled myself up into the park, just for a little extra smugness. Go on, lass, haul your big butt up that little hill! And I did. Smug grin.
See? Proof. If I'd been feeling particularly bonkers, I suppose I could have trotted round the park as well, but let's not go overboard. I've never fainted in my life but I will do soon if I keep taking long walks and forgetting to eat first.
I was rewarded for my extra effort by a train flying past just as I turned to go home. That was very cool. I love trains – like, not in a serious trainspotter way (though there's nothing wrong with that), but just because people who live like I do don't travel on trains very often, and when they do, it means they're going somewhere far away for an exciting reason. The last time I went on a train was last year, to Manchester to meet my work pals for the first time – that was very exciting. Hello, work pals! (Some of them read this, which makes me smile.)
So, that was that. You know I live close to the park, so I was home about seven minutes after the train had gone.
Oh, I've popped the Strava app onto my phone, as recommended by my beautiful sister-in-law Jessica – hiya, Jessica! (Jessica reads this too – she gets cross if I don't tell everyone how beautiful she is.)
5.31 miles – get in! Now, a word on this – I have no intention whatsoever of achieving any kind of target and I do not intend to keep trying to improve my PB. I am merely curious to know how far I walk each day, and that is all. Except perhaps I might try to make funny pictures with my routes, like everyone does.
Until tomorrow, you utterly crazy kids.
WQ
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