Skip to main content

National Forest Way: Ashby to Normanton le Heath

It's a beautiful drive along country roads to Ashby de la Zouch. Especially on a sunny Monday morning, with a good walk beckoning ahead. This next section of hiking took me south of Ashby, through a couple of pretty villages, and past some very unexpected animals. 

 

I dropped Theo off at school, enjoyed my drive to Ashby, and parked in a side street near Station Road, boots on and ready to go by 9:30am. A short section of a road took me to a footpath across some fields. I scrumped an apple from a tree next to the stile, and munched it as I walked.

Me by the apple tree


 There was a footbridge to cross the busy A42, then an easy bridle track to Packington. The church was open, so I stuck my head in, but didn't like to trample over too much of the clean red carpet with my walking boots on.

crossing the A42

Packington church

From Packington the Way mostly crossed unremarkable fields to reach Normanton le Heath. There was a small section of woodland known as Plummer's Wood. 


view from Normanton le Heath

Normanton is a tiny village perched on top of a hill, giving good views back to Ashby. The church here was closed and no one seemed to be about. I had a snack on a bench in the graveyard, and admired the gargoyles on the church tower.

flowers by Normanton church

main street of Normanton le Heath


At this point I left the NFW to head back to Ashby. First I crossed a few fields, where I was amused by this sign above a miniature pony. 


Then I crossed Springfield Wood. The trees were simply dripping with red berries - hawthorn, rowan, and probably some others as well.

Coming out onto a track, I was surprised to see a herd of deer in a field. That was unusual enough, I thought, but then I passed another field with alpacas in, and another containing... bison? Yes, they were. There was a sign explaining that they are classed as dangerous wild animals, and can move remarkably fast.


bison bison


Hill Farm had a cafe, which was tempting, but I pressed on. I failed to spot the footpath I was looking out for, so the last portion of the walk was all on roads. I got to see a little more of Packington village, crossed the A42 again, and passed the castle in Ashby de la Zouch. We've visited a couple of times as a family and it's well worth it; not every ruined castle has a tower to climb and an underground passage to explore.

Lock-up in Packington
 

I passed the NFW sign where I'd finished my walk last time, and continued down the high street. Tucked away in a courtyard is the Rose Cottage Tea Rooms, where I treated myself to a scone and a coffee. "We make the scones first thing every morning," said the man behind the counter; whereupon his wife stuck her head out of the kitchen and said, "I don't know about we. I make the scones every morning!" 

 

The last landmark before I reached the car was the Loudoun memorial, erected in memory of the Countess of Loudoun. She "regularly entertained local children", says the accompanying sign, "and was well-known for visiting local miners who had suffered accidents at the pit." She died in 1874.

Once again, doing a loop added interest to the official NFW route - I would have completely missed the bison, Springfield Woods, and most of Packington village. It was a pleasant 8-mile walk through an area I hadn't been to before.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Dove Valley Walk: finding the mouth of the Dove

The Bonnie Prince Charlie Way was really just a fill-in walk until I could start my next big excursion. Gloopy though the BPC was, I knew it wouldn't actually be flooded, whereas the bits of ground I was tackling next had had ducks paddling on them for most of the winter.   The grand plan is to start from my house in Findern, reaching the start of the River Dove. I can then follow the Dove to Uttoxeter, making up my own route, as this section has no official waymarked path. At Uttoxeter I join the Staffordshire Way up to Rocester, then the Limestone Way beyond that. It stays near the Dove for a while longer. Then it cuts across the southern Peak District to reach Matlock. At Matlock I can pick up the Derwent Valley Heritage Way, heading south through Derby to reach the River Trent at Shardlow. The Trent has its own relatively new Way, leading back to Repton and then, eventually, home. The map shows a rough idea of the route. If only it would stop raining long enough for me to get a

A Place at the Table: Spiritual Formation Book 12

"God has ordained in his great wisdom and goodness that eating, and especially eating in company, should be one of the most profound and pleasurable aspects of being human." Miranda Harris had been intending to write a book for years. She'd got as far as a folder full of notes when she died suddenly in a car accident in 2019. When her daughter, Jo Swinney, found the notes, she decided to bring her mum's dream to fruition. A Place at the Table was the result. I thought this was going to be a nice friendly book about having people over for dinner. In one sense it is, but it's pretty hard-hitting as well. Miranda and her husband Peter co-founded the environmental charity A Rocha, so the book doesn't shy away from considering the environmental aspects of what we eat and how we live. They also travelled widely and encountered hunger at close quarters; the tension between seeing such poverty and believing in a generous God comes out clearly in A Place at the Table.

Flexitarianism

Hey folks!  I learnt a new word today!  I can now proudly proclaim myself to be a flexitarian .  Yes, I wish that meant I'm in training to be a trapeze artist.  Or that I'm a leading world expert on the chemical properties of stretchy materials.  All it actually means is that I don't eat meat that much. Well, big deal.  That lumps me in with a majority of the world's population, many of whom have no choice about the matter.  So why the need for a fancy new word?  Because, it seems, that we in the prosperous West have come to regard having bacon for breakfast, chicken sandwiches for lunch and a steak for dinner as entirely normal.  But also because we in the prosperous West are starting to realise that might not be an entirely good idea. You know about factory farming, of course.  The images of chickens crammed into tiny cages and pigs which never see the sunlight, which we push out of our minds when we reach for our plastic-wrapped package of sausages in t