tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59396775687606090002024-03-17T11:14:08.581-05:00Martha's Marvellous MunchiesGetting through life one cake at a time.Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.comBlogger445125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-69913581228013058982024-03-10T11:39:00.066-05:002024-03-10T16:33:11.957-05:00Bonnie Prince Charlie Walk: Longford to Lees and BONUS walk<p>The walk from Longford to Lees didn't include any churches. That was frankly not on. So I found an extra walk which included not one, not two, but <i>three</i> churches. Also it was shorter, because I didn't have time to fit in a longer walk that week.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7hnRMXEHW6qiPHHgaxTTKoNg5DSy7WrPx42xhPTU9bdF5Dqr_ewx4d45FQ073rY0boLPE94CR9y7vfRUBUvaLgnhypkgt2-voSGEvC4zbEC8rxrA-JvdkuNRE8LWtAIXqytcmckTv0TlDKM2W6mGeZ51sFlkCYa6R4tXfLLHDXs-4SD0q7ROwMioliGw/s3264/IMG_6192.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7hnRMXEHW6qiPHHgaxTTKoNg5DSy7WrPx42xhPTU9bdF5Dqr_ewx4d45FQ073rY0boLPE94CR9y7vfRUBUvaLgnhypkgt2-voSGEvC4zbEC8rxrA-JvdkuNRE8LWtAIXqytcmckTv0TlDKM2W6mGeZ51sFlkCYa6R4tXfLLHDXs-4SD0q7ROwMioliGw/s320/IMG_6192.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>The next week I managed the churchless section of the Bonnie Prince Charlie Walk. It was a little more adventurous than I expected!<br /></p><h3 style="text-align: left;">Walk 1 (Three Churches)</h3><p>For this route I followed the directions given by Dave Welford on his <a href="https://walkswithwelf.wordpress.com/2020/06/26/dalbury-trusley-and-sutton-on-the-hill/">very useful blog</a>. As soon as I parked up by Sutton-on-the-Hill church, I heard the bleating of lambs. Spring must be coming.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMYKh6oQe-NQh0VXA0OhpQcrZaGCwhaM6DBWtmba-ipah8XEgeZNiHDT6d-3V5WOww_tCuWx4-Dax3-8G-Y65VKz72CUAfqlRx4f47yY6VWGgFIIPO9ts0KBRQRcErMoemZtY6RtCEsVPRjPLrebpTuZhcqJotVfJDmLLOAfPxq7peWLFLEnDHypY5EoM/s3264/IMG_6190.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMYKh6oQe-NQh0VXA0OhpQcrZaGCwhaM6DBWtmba-ipah8XEgeZNiHDT6d-3V5WOww_tCuWx4-Dax3-8G-Y65VKz72CUAfqlRx4f47yY6VWGgFIIPO9ts0KBRQRcErMoemZtY6RtCEsVPRjPLrebpTuZhcqJotVfJDmLLOAfPxq7peWLFLEnDHypY5EoM/s320/IMG_6190.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">number 11 mum and baby<br /></td></tr></tbody></table> <p></p><p>I crossed a field full of numbered lambs and ewes and came out in the middle of Sutton village. Turning left by the village preschool, I picked up another footpath to take me across the fields to Dalbury. A ruined cottage stood crumbling lonesomely - the Gamekeeper's Cottage, apparently. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzF8xnOAEM5dtSKi3kogIhUD4kDSoMhoV7KmUxsyO1-sg48s_LVW3SZdYejsuZgenJv-jgGzJqOF3E4mA3g9BLeum4Xm5Q68MJ8Pol8SHiZ68N1x1_Kw1GaPNnkQMEPh4VJc7H-Ga9hi9UoUY1itng-vdQF2ASNAxAtnZH16bO-7-2dFxwqSbkV6nUMQg/s3264/IMG_6195.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzF8xnOAEM5dtSKi3kogIhUD4kDSoMhoV7KmUxsyO1-sg48s_LVW3SZdYejsuZgenJv-jgGzJqOF3E4mA3g9BLeum4Xm5Q68MJ8Pol8SHiZ68N1x1_Kw1GaPNnkQMEPh4VJc7H-Ga9hi9UoUY1itng-vdQF2ASNAxAtnZH16bO-7-2dFxwqSbkV6nUMQg/s320/IMG_6195.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I was amused by Dave Welford's comments about the miserable farmer who left paths and stiles to disintegrate. Things hadn't improved since he walked it in 2020. There were still plenty of rickety stiles. At Baldfields Farm someone had been hard at work with a bulldozer, leaving a heap of earth right across the footpath. And a little further on, I had to climb round these gates onto the bridge, as they were almost impossible to open.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiUl56PF-1qoIymbILvIM70gGhAWR_IK3wPZz7kA8MoBYKlzt9bbSxdHyPpRIzKLvltuXCyJAiEazjpmeFZ0sKYn6qqFR63j1oqr4q5NNftaksfG08VInv26wjGBYoP8Gg_drgv4_CwtfkPXUWS5SRWGrXBpDcxnTMabEjeRjNV6xydKeenqCtOH2Cpt4/s3264/IMG_6196.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiUl56PF-1qoIymbILvIM70gGhAWR_IK3wPZz7kA8MoBYKlzt9bbSxdHyPpRIzKLvltuXCyJAiEazjpmeFZ0sKYn6qqFR63j1oqr4q5NNftaksfG08VInv26wjGBYoP8Gg_drgv4_CwtfkPXUWS5SRWGrXBpDcxnTMabEjeRjNV6xydKeenqCtOH2Cpt4/s320/IMG_6196.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Dalbury All Saints church was worth it, though. It's a gorgeous little place, with an alabaster pulpit and the oldest stained glass in Derbyshire. I took my muddy boots off and had a good look round.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKRUcZafevEHgc31JRUf3Zyfikxv1mBerprqQZdaK9I8OkSk9gFgQSSwzmUTiJMYe836B3DQ7_gFRH_Nrp21AznpktI3GSmkJzwafsZc2Crj54-qhmrXWYciPa0-fodKX871FiBtapAXbd7o947K8yMaEN1v5Z3xWhETJKjUyKJKFzb7XhxSbNHgOVVvQ/s3264/IMG_6197.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKRUcZafevEHgc31JRUf3Zyfikxv1mBerprqQZdaK9I8OkSk9gFgQSSwzmUTiJMYe836B3DQ7_gFRH_Nrp21AznpktI3GSmkJzwafsZc2Crj54-qhmrXWYciPa0-fodKX871FiBtapAXbd7o947K8yMaEN1v5Z3xWhETJKjUyKJKFzb7XhxSbNHgOVVvQ/s320/IMG_6197.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipl9LrfCWY4Xg6slyLGI8qBeehPSrDZS8nOwKXWFmG3xydnbXJ7mUbBab8p5O_Xr6u4wJ61LmNJhb4OlRPO2w4WUMvIDvZxWH_y3KkFsYDzgKPbauWskRQL_7t-EfD14jVe_Vr7FQG2lKz4hrwFH0g2iA0M9pYhMGydcgzY-2a0HI-jC4Qq4BB2LUuWa4/s3264/IMG_6200.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipl9LrfCWY4Xg6slyLGI8qBeehPSrDZS8nOwKXWFmG3xydnbXJ7mUbBab8p5O_Xr6u4wJ61LmNJhb4OlRPO2w4WUMvIDvZxWH_y3KkFsYDzgKPbauWskRQL_7t-EfD14jVe_Vr7FQG2lKz4hrwFH0g2iA0M9pYhMGydcgzY-2a0HI-jC4Qq4BB2LUuWa4/s320/IMG_6200.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXiUrcT3w4p3L6cZX8DqfIrMM7VqI0o-uTRoqPIDxoPCUsLRj_g-4pMJ3Ue0tFdHHq4q4c51GIiRJlL1TyPqaibPCs94LqkiT9GGruJ6bQCTk9oYQRNSRAeCwPNgu7BIEgM7Eh7YaeraEC-hY3hO1WLT67QKDgi3FzWEdFIJz03k1scxrF-KhWBz2TIbM/s3264/IMG_6201.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXiUrcT3w4p3L6cZX8DqfIrMM7VqI0o-uTRoqPIDxoPCUsLRj_g-4pMJ3Ue0tFdHHq4q4c51GIiRJlL1TyPqaibPCs94LqkiT9GGruJ6bQCTk9oYQRNSRAeCwPNgu7BIEgM7Eh7YaeraEC-hY3hO1WLT67QKDgi3FzWEdFIJz03k1scxrF-KhWBz2TIbM/s320/IMG_6201.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /> Had lunch on a bench outside, next to an unusual gravestone which incorporated a sundial.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwJPyB6gWpTpIS1-3ASuKn09xZoH5t4l6rCEUhD2UUrepWxWqnJxTRVn5f9rZPTrf1xrP2aw820mCyr0nASCA_9rRoVXyddbRf7DqvpNAwCYHpKiNPVcAYzAGSgCdWKAFA650Kw1Yr9XRCFyLaHbXSN9pnLDi11A3LTxRZwLG4R-kOaScPfzBJaCyy52s/s3264/IMG_6203.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwJPyB6gWpTpIS1-3ASuKn09xZoH5t4l6rCEUhD2UUrepWxWqnJxTRVn5f9rZPTrf1xrP2aw820mCyr0nASCA_9rRoVXyddbRf7DqvpNAwCYHpKiNPVcAYzAGSgCdWKAFA650Kw1Yr9XRCFyLaHbXSN9pnLDi11A3LTxRZwLG4R-kOaScPfzBJaCyy52s/s320/IMG_6203.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>It was about a mile over yet more fields to Trusley, which has a funny little brick church (also dedicated to All Saints) with an extremely large door.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNWCXKFJxfiYN-sTbQe985whyrxDsOOrgQUuoJodY4aYDWVdpLu7b7_jbSV4mdAFG2cOf4RX4aRKbQ-ZyYkXIJ73pbM0eywbXQuxvhiGC1yqnqAAluFOFpuRSQcZAVvHUxIlI596X4J7vYf7gW_rSwg5JO5zlIbXhV06jL0hVUtL1B1V4aUtcSk6pudEU/s3264/IMG_6204.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNWCXKFJxfiYN-sTbQe985whyrxDsOOrgQUuoJodY4aYDWVdpLu7b7_jbSV4mdAFG2cOf4RX4aRKbQ-ZyYkXIJ73pbM0eywbXQuxvhiGC1yqnqAAluFOFpuRSQcZAVvHUxIlI596X4J7vYf7gW_rSwg5JO5zlIbXhV06jL0hVUtL1B1V4aUtcSk6pudEU/s320/IMG_6204.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibwn4V4TWwp3gSUNN3w33hX00VxHWHVHUK1n6M9dXYWrXz2RqLpRLezwAFqnPyB4fENxHmDGPT9e-GpBm7Dd_2HwsSkIlUEqswyPhEGFHTj9EpMoKZaBtfHxyuhSbEKgf-TBOO49rTASK5MReu5Ohj-ar0kf5gBXR5KOfyr0gKziFjzkyr36PuQOsdXgM/s2592/IMG_20240227_130555010.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1952" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibwn4V4TWwp3gSUNN3w33hX00VxHWHVHUK1n6M9dXYWrXz2RqLpRLezwAFqnPyB4fENxHmDGPT9e-GpBm7Dd_2HwsSkIlUEqswyPhEGFHTj9EpMoKZaBtfHxyuhSbEKgf-TBOO49rTASK5MReu5Ohj-ar0kf5gBXR5KOfyr0gKziFjzkyr36PuQOsdXgM/s320/IMG_20240227_130555010.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Heading back, I took the wrong line and almost ended up heading south instead of west. Fortunately I could see the spire of St Michael's at Sutton, so I quickly realised I was going the wrong way. It took me a few puzzled moments to work out where I was. Then I took the easy route and followed the road back.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTsajKTvcdVPV-HeizDvsEzpMC_dNJr06B9nMr5n27JuOcS0bYYEk1lHkAPHhvfUwCNec0fN7d2uWmNszxhr-9E0voLNLgqha7M9pfuAd0qxQlcHvCyo-LB7eFH4BRjnlk1W3XMItGkWtBc9sMk9lVZdqs7kA2o1xeKPNmJOUNCOOudh16VKW_h31EXlE/s3264/IMG_6206.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTsajKTvcdVPV-HeizDvsEzpMC_dNJr06B9nMr5n27JuOcS0bYYEk1lHkAPHhvfUwCNec0fN7d2uWmNszxhr-9E0voLNLgqha7M9pfuAd0qxQlcHvCyo-LB7eFH4BRjnlk1W3XMItGkWtBc9sMk9lVZdqs7kA2o1xeKPNmJOUNCOOudh16VKW_h31EXlE/s320/IMG_6206.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /> St Michael's at Sutton-on-the-Hill is larger and more impressive than the other two churches. It also includes a fair bit of alabaster, and a memorial with a black stone coffin - very unusual, the leaflet said. There was free tea and coffee in the corner, which was a nice touch. However, it was time for me to head home.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMzcDl_vJpgYoEWDKfab-ZJ6PAwoEHtUHKHqKq_g50U5F0qfBftm67CMu69vH8O9-kzys6yLZcvAWdxsRu46lPXiurqPu4dUqMHlk_XsTo10O5NdaW5wVf826NdifNasBYcYgLXwlf4h-F3QVf6PTwf4q6SKBSCQceg7nRiWzZTMhzwNhJsg3P4zgS2tA/s3264/IMG_6189.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMzcDl_vJpgYoEWDKfab-ZJ6PAwoEHtUHKHqKq_g50U5F0qfBftm67CMu69vH8O9-kzys6yLZcvAWdxsRu46lPXiurqPu4dUqMHlk_XsTo10O5NdaW5wVf826NdifNasBYcYgLXwlf4h-F3QVf6PTwf4q6SKBSCQceg7nRiWzZTMhzwNhJsg3P4zgS2tA/s320/IMG_6189.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfZJg5qXhP6i_YaMrNLB45D1s8u8I3OGlHd_eaWP7Tylc47liVKcr913ldRmn3DH5awEylwV-BjgBvAhjXlUer0O0nXX-4JYj0AgPWWo7pfrn6u_21j8BQiGEV-vg0WSYJqK0ph6Xd9LWVzbB0CX6npYTqZDuCELVTeZlbjqOWKDdsY1rOlHnuCFPhdpw/s3264/IMG_6209.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfZJg5qXhP6i_YaMrNLB45D1s8u8I3OGlHd_eaWP7Tylc47liVKcr913ldRmn3DH5awEylwV-BjgBvAhjXlUer0O0nXX-4JYj0AgPWWo7pfrn6u_21j8BQiGEV-vg0WSYJqK0ph6Xd9LWVzbB0CX6npYTqZDuCELVTeZlbjqOWKDdsY1rOlHnuCFPhdpw/s320/IMG_6209.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6QkDMIF7KM73Hm1Qb08p5WLAVQW8g0yBYqwCWdE72Kii7NnPIqRJFC0YTaysqUGKY-oTK0uCDPj0uJNR3T9Fqi5aH02BekfSvGrfLa2zv_2Exi2X8yRb-EDc4gFuv4mzL2nlwVYY6NhicrtacGwUpQwP8UfP5PEJRxtcc2d0X878ik3q5N8KRpthCpvw/s3264/IMG_6210.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6QkDMIF7KM73Hm1Qb08p5WLAVQW8g0yBYqwCWdE72Kii7NnPIqRJFC0YTaysqUGKY-oTK0uCDPj0uJNR3T9Fqi5aH02BekfSvGrfLa2zv_2Exi2X8yRb-EDc4gFuv4mzL2nlwVYY6NhicrtacGwUpQwP8UfP5PEJRxtcc2d0X878ik3q5N8KRpthCpvw/s320/IMG_6210.JPG" width="240" /></a></div> <p></p><p>Would you rather have a sundial or a black coffin as your memorial? A sundial seems much friendlier.</p><p><iframe height="480" src="https://www.google.com/maps/d/embed?mid=14AUTm97hJBnFzQ5VkDuTPbpi0PbOHJg&ehbc=2E312F&noprof=1" width="640"></iframe></p><p style="text-align: left;">8.4 km / 5.2 miles</p><p style="text-align: left;">27 February 2024 </p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><h3 style="text-align: left;">Walk 2 (Longford - Lees)<br /></h3><p>It was such a beautiful sunny day that I felt quite guilty heading out for a walk while the rest of my family went reluctantly off to work or school. If they'd seen the state I got into, though, they would have been thankful not to be with me!</p><p>The walk started well. I parked by Longford school. A short road section took me to a clear signpost and a gravel track across a field. A thin film of ice covered the puddles, and the sky was clear and blue.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsyHzyGJFb3kJvul33XTHC4j91SYinGtSrJ6_n1E7z84i3pIyN6kS1aU2rUIjaPy31FIl-F7gp_CGiW1Gij7lVb51M6CTa9kVeZPsPqndJqSSh2stkpLNDtl-hQK6c0onyrNCAFJ5hldkjT24XLzv8uGCXHin3vrtwGdT0iSCx_BE2rtA88HDvo1DNFes/s3264/IMG_6214.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsyHzyGJFb3kJvul33XTHC4j91SYinGtSrJ6_n1E7z84i3pIyN6kS1aU2rUIjaPy31FIl-F7gp_CGiW1Gij7lVb51M6CTa9kVeZPsPqndJqSSh2stkpLNDtl-hQK6c0onyrNCAFJ5hldkjT24XLzv8uGCXHin3vrtwGdT0iSCx_BE2rtA88HDvo1DNFes/s320/IMG_6214.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /> South of Thurvaston, I reached a track, with instructions to cross it and continue over a field. This I did, but the stile out of that field had been replaced by a fence, strung with barbed wire and festooned with brambles. I put a tentative foot on the bottom rail, but decided there was no way over without tearing my clothes to shreds. I detoured up the track and back down another path which led to the same point.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7W1XRMCoGTXKgoFSU6azRRISXoOMUIPNx149jAEindyNQY24pFa2xpCKH-j4GhSypl61niT6nMpinrUT5xxKYgqgkCVRSqPi6nieKnqKQSIkf1xPh3-5tIlyv5A9cxiWb0T4rhFfHW5sdUHGetbdeL4TS9lPCqPZ7cBasMXmWdGuqx4YSPlwCzdtfIT4/s3264/IMG_6215.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7W1XRMCoGTXKgoFSU6azRRISXoOMUIPNx149jAEindyNQY24pFa2xpCKH-j4GhSypl61niT6nMpinrUT5xxKYgqgkCVRSqPi6nieKnqKQSIkf1xPh3-5tIlyv5A9cxiWb0T4rhFfHW5sdUHGetbdeL4TS9lPCqPZ7cBasMXmWdGuqx4YSPlwCzdtfIT4/s320/IMG_6215.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>From then on the paths got less distinct, and the stiles more and more overgrown. This one was completely impassable; I had to climb over a fence further along. I crossed a field with a mare and her foal in, and reached Osleston. Sheep grazed on a lumpy field which was once a medieval village.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoNowaGkLCuuhwz2zvF1v3H9ubyIzTB-8IGRiFrXkXx1mfJ1w6JSoGHQ4kCD2Uh1bjB4PrVI8T_WLNMr6sOj_zauYzdC4BtqNFSR8ynNJ8-Pdn60snSWfJ7h8i5EPqj933YvNyRKhunelZeF8TZzDSsg39Gny1mroa8Kl2zQgaVax45p8xx9NU5LbG7MI/s3264/IMG_6217.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoNowaGkLCuuhwz2zvF1v3H9ubyIzTB-8IGRiFrXkXx1mfJ1w6JSoGHQ4kCD2Uh1bjB4PrVI8T_WLNMr6sOj_zauYzdC4BtqNFSR8ynNJ8-Pdn60snSWfJ7h8i5EPqj933YvNyRKhunelZeF8TZzDSsg39Gny1mroa8Kl2zQgaVax45p8xx9NU5LbG7MI/s320/IMG_6217.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">yeah, right<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7RpRsMBOJg6I2aTPd1x7dpIcA6zz87xnh5CHMzDdvLbaIbrVrbPkaV17vU8eO5BMyRLrr4yAgFh_k1Djmb4Uj5pbFw3-UYHLP8f0eJDOrU2vHN6SnDK-mijf9dTdziBIvnmF0tn4EwVlU5aUQcuvdjGRnbJGltWUEmehfj4IKueAfx9AoA0rBdka-KZo/s3264/IMG_6218.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7RpRsMBOJg6I2aTPd1x7dpIcA6zz87xnh5CHMzDdvLbaIbrVrbPkaV17vU8eO5BMyRLrr4yAgFh_k1Djmb4Uj5pbFw3-UYHLP8f0eJDOrU2vHN6SnDK-mijf9dTdziBIvnmF0tn4EwVlU5aUQcuvdjGRnbJGltWUEmehfj4IKueAfx9AoA0rBdka-KZo/s320/IMG_6218.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Osleston medieval village<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>Once I'd navigated round a fallen tree, I was surprised to find two nice new gates. Soon I was climbing up a slope to Lees village, where I was pleased to see a bench waiting for me on the village green.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCdi6UJJmp066XDyw8xRzlGQZk1Hs0W5TMIosIyj45DTQBJuxjUowCnWmS4xbiyfpJ6_rvlNaCsszO2b1aIWyTLm6tFNYwhgLVYA67vnyRuHnkmtZdJC1pyWM3qSaDt7Z8rCcrNto1ix3_pAfhjNg7ph5QD__etLrKBh15E37_svi8bq2jwAMKoLLFZ2M/s3264/IMG_6223.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCdi6UJJmp066XDyw8xRzlGQZk1Hs0W5TMIosIyj45DTQBJuxjUowCnWmS4xbiyfpJ6_rvlNaCsszO2b1aIWyTLm6tFNYwhgLVYA67vnyRuHnkmtZdJC1pyWM3qSaDt7Z8rCcrNto1ix3_pAfhjNg7ph5QD__etLrKBh15E37_svi8bq2jwAMKoLLFZ2M/s320/IMG_6223.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br />Lees is the other half of Dalbury Lees; Dalbury, which is about a mile and a half away, has the church and not much else (visited on my previous walk). Lees has got all the houses, and a pub. A friend had been singing the praises of the Cow, but it was only 11 am, so I was too early to get a coffee there.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRjxrGnvbhWLtqRV-J1o0qr4N_yzHtSkZEtshn_h9iUQtgFxAR8MptbYgBX4euPSgCEJZ5rIyt77bwekJVNOz8PBttvZLI6F07S6sAd9t_Fv2RUI4fgncHQ98VGobdvuT5oqw-6gZfnb0FwLLNKM_kWOP6RhmO_0a9ay0dja7rfHTbakoZSI51g1z4Bx0/s3264/IMG_6224.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRjxrGnvbhWLtqRV-J1o0qr4N_yzHtSkZEtshn_h9iUQtgFxAR8MptbYgBX4euPSgCEJZ5rIyt77bwekJVNOz8PBttvZLI6F07S6sAd9t_Fv2RUI4fgncHQ98VGobdvuT5oqw-6gZfnb0FwLLNKM_kWOP6RhmO_0a9ay0dja7rfHTbakoZSI51g1z4Bx0/s320/IMG_6224.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>After my experience on the "official" Bonnie Prince Charlie Walk, I wondered what the unofficial footpaths would be like. I was right to be apprehensive. The OS map is cobwebbed with dotted footpath lines, but they are woefully underwalked. It was pretty much impossible to see a clear line across any field. Heading vaguely for a gate on what was almost certainly not a footpath, I suddenly sank to the top of my wellies in soft mud. Alarmed, I managed to extract myself - and my boots - and reach a track, where I paused for a moment to recover. I carried on with considerably more caution.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9d8QbrbFoIvx0OJgB406eH9QnniCWYUvMf9duUOoJrkB2BON5Ateu_U6pTbvifUxb8vJTG6w7gXP4HLE5TRPRuEEawjD0-DHlJHonUthSlWwZIAEYr_b1hZUfVls0PcxLIcUL8AwuZvlJRiWufkHr4sFLoV-HuCfo9A_6FohyL5vzrb3yBsL2-65DCEo/s3264/IMG_6225.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9d8QbrbFoIvx0OJgB406eH9QnniCWYUvMf9duUOoJrkB2BON5Ateu_U6pTbvifUxb8vJTG6w7gXP4HLE5TRPRuEEawjD0-DHlJHonUthSlWwZIAEYr_b1hZUfVls0PcxLIcUL8AwuZvlJRiWufkHr4sFLoV-HuCfo9A_6FohyL5vzrb3yBsL2-65DCEo/s320/IMG_6225.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">strange human, what's she doing?<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>After a while even the footpath signs gave up. I ducked under barbed wire, climbed over gateposts and pallets, and got yanked backwards when my rucksack got caught on a hedge. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtFRlI9xFCvPUN0fOdO88hcr1q96t3-mcD7VcmyXZDV0xjTBG4ymY2qKP69sEb9t4ucHKahprw3JzSGQ1d3namDXZPmRj-QpJCLH5PfCD_pRAPl23QeHcDNM2JOwB7RkLs6QwdS0UnmZkgWimWxVnvFpIPJCR2NRTmUBGwu2bobclbdg4SsagRe0w9pjE/s3264/IMG_6227.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtFRlI9xFCvPUN0fOdO88hcr1q96t3-mcD7VcmyXZDV0xjTBG4ymY2qKP69sEb9t4ucHKahprw3JzSGQ1d3namDXZPmRj-QpJCLH5PfCD_pRAPl23QeHcDNM2JOwB7RkLs6QwdS0UnmZkgWimWxVnvFpIPJCR2NRTmUBGwu2bobclbdg4SsagRe0w9pjE/s320/IMG_6227.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>It didn't feel like I was making any progress. So it was quite a surprise to find myself on Longford Lane again, just a short way from my car. I admired the belt-buckle detail on this former chapel. Longford and Lees, I decided, were perfectly nice villages. But I won't be in a hurry to walk between them again.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG_erPIlXhz62sJTLN8BYbZYM4xiPeZkqKEqejBgxGxZLe1wHPnvx__8sbQnvAnPxv6GDL7g4h-QetVOxGk3tZ8w5cFOONKnmX5W5zlPOj2DEd7TGgsJ4Who0BLrseE1yCEAih7w3tBPm_29f52DA6sB2yi8_J4Dgjqmqyj8rwfOs30hyphenhyphenH9eFbBCctKAk/s3264/IMG_6231.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG_erPIlXhz62sJTLN8BYbZYM4xiPeZkqKEqejBgxGxZLe1wHPnvx__8sbQnvAnPxv6GDL7g4h-QetVOxGk3tZ8w5cFOONKnmX5W5zlPOj2DEd7TGgsJ4Who0BLrseE1yCEAih7w3tBPm_29f52DA6sB2yi8_J4Dgjqmqyj8rwfOs30hyphenhyphenH9eFbBCctKAk/s320/IMG_6231.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><iframe height="480" src="https://www.google.com/maps/d/embed?mid=1qfQB8O0rFARbBmhFGokK2dL3aKUSrP4&ehbc=2E312F&noprof=1" width="640"></iframe></p><p>12.8 km / 8 miles</p><p>4 March 2024<br /></p>Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-3380819325813344462024-03-04T08:35:00.005-06:002024-03-04T08:35:41.532-06:00Bonnie Prince Charlie Walk: Ashbourne - Longford<p>The Bonnie Prince Charlie Walk follows the "general direction of Prince Charles Edward Stuart's march from Ashbourne to Derby". (<a href="https://www.derbyramblers.org.uk/routes/walking-routes/26-bonnie-prince-charlie-walk.html">Derby Ramblers</a>) I'm inclined to think that the prince would have had the sense to follow the main road rather than tramp across muddy fields, but a route following the modern A52 would not be particularly pleasant. </p><p>The appeal of the walk for me was not really the historical accuracy, though. More that it was close to home, fairly short, and unlikely to be flooded even in the current climate. It has turned into my Lent walk: starting on 5th February; visiting plenty of village churches along the way; and hopefully finishing by Easter.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDlaq_u21VEwMCIZStZubQWWinOFpu-myzsmOCHGY-LJTpiqvIkx-Z1FRJWntRMKHjVgz0mqp7jKasBUFiCFpaYOom7AhY8IvTmrXBF9VrD1wjC1q-VImoBe0Kc4XELG2gNF54IPHcyY-ngjbQ15DXrJoVDkLoKzfjWDuXdwfjA2_CtI7HzTFdmKB3IQU/s2002/IMG_6187-EDIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2002" data-original-width="1838" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDlaq_u21VEwMCIZStZubQWWinOFpu-myzsmOCHGY-LJTpiqvIkx-Z1FRJWntRMKHjVgz0mqp7jKasBUFiCFpaYOom7AhY8IvTmrXBF9VrD1wjC1q-VImoBe0Kc4XELG2gNF54IPHcyY-ngjbQ15DXrJoVDkLoKzfjWDuXdwfjA2_CtI7HzTFdmKB3IQU/s320/IMG_6187-EDIT.jpg" width="294" /></a></div><p><br /></p><h3 style="text-align: left;">Walk 1</h3><p>I set off on a grey day from Ashbourne Market Cross, the official start of the Bonnie Prince Charlie walk. My first stop was Ashbourne Methodist Church, a severely symmetrical building smelling faintly of cinnamon, where I prayed for a few people who were on my mind.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1CDAgibkirWzIyIrxKG2dj7LzT5cKpFtGvQnK4anItZy657zp4rtrwB-RBYLWvkxjxzAKm7Gxt1tFadkR1gHDnV8L90Z6jWqXob1G4ndjjoJDfiagquH3HMeX_lPil7Z1tkxdDBMzAkg5RqZxlSWoRMprs1YU7qQraf3zORyKkYbixoXwypU38n0FlKs/s3264/IMG_6101.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1CDAgibkirWzIyIrxKG2dj7LzT5cKpFtGvQnK4anItZy657zp4rtrwB-RBYLWvkxjxzAKm7Gxt1tFadkR1gHDnV8L90Z6jWqXob1G4ndjjoJDfiagquH3HMeX_lPil7Z1tkxdDBMzAkg5RqZxlSWoRMprs1YU7qQraf3zORyKkYbixoXwypU38n0FlKs/s320/IMG_6101.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlCnA5u4HzbKRbWP55S8nGA3IoyETIxf4oypP0WoS1iaWmqUqAh1DZPxg9bANJ8lq7C5uCI9St1gicFEalOoS5iQLkBwob0gZYQn4Ze4Hugrh3qoFxnNA1DdMwWo4-biZH4HdUaegoWblnGIS7eopeXSEzFNZAZAxd6drLAjd5oF6HmWJ1couPYOL8RZk/s3264/IMG_6102.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlCnA5u4HzbKRbWP55S8nGA3IoyETIxf4oypP0WoS1iaWmqUqAh1DZPxg9bANJ8lq7C5uCI9St1gicFEalOoS5iQLkBwob0gZYQn4Ze4Hugrh3qoFxnNA1DdMwWo4-biZH4HdUaegoWblnGIS7eopeXSEzFNZAZAxd6drLAjd5oF6HmWJ1couPYOL8RZk/s320/IMG_6102.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>The route climbed steeply out of Ashbourne, and I was soon looking back over the roofs of the town. Aside from a few outdated comments (the "new" bypass is now 30 years old) the walk notes were easy to follow. I spotted some waymarkers as well.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAPS3zh2oYuKFmL3rVIekEeHlDgCld531GSDxh-wVZwhxiYafNM4z2Egh3dS5csWOZZVGMdY1dA0meNDGZ9IT2HwiwyDas5NFvNVg2mNNABfzB2-cisH29-3399B41IsuH2j4XrQgN-iMSOFVvrEBPKgFMptcYPt6AWZ-YlpOakUZGXJSSV9seTubXFzw/s3264/IMG_6106.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAPS3zh2oYuKFmL3rVIekEeHlDgCld531GSDxh-wVZwhxiYafNM4z2Egh3dS5csWOZZVGMdY1dA0meNDGZ9IT2HwiwyDas5NFvNVg2mNNABfzB2-cisH29-3399B41IsuH2j4XrQgN-iMSOFVvrEBPKgFMptcYPt6AWZ-YlpOakUZGXJSSV9seTubXFzw/s320/IMG_6106.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">looking back across Ashbourne</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-bCm-YAZ6FFFxlPZJBiEWR_VOJiCLAHEwQHDaHnQyx1eD1BOZxFKSobktap5OYBfbOyrIPRlE2ud9cMYGmoTs4FYwKgkamT8P11Qcu8lGXqrj9uhRa79qye5MhTmg5K9YmEw7Hf2n1USFSQXnbFiA-O3Y7-38IRHcPvL7xxRyhVlEAkyygF3RSJuwOEI/s3264/IMG_6108.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-bCm-YAZ6FFFxlPZJBiEWR_VOJiCLAHEwQHDaHnQyx1eD1BOZxFKSobktap5OYBfbOyrIPRlE2ud9cMYGmoTs4FYwKgkamT8P11Qcu8lGXqrj9uhRa79qye5MhTmg5K9YmEw7Hf2n1USFSQXnbFiA-O3Y7-38IRHcPvL7xxRyhVlEAkyygF3RSJuwOEI/s320/IMG_6108.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Crossing open countryside, I reached Osmaston, a village crammed with thatched cottages and a very noisy school (it was breaktime). The church was closed. I ate half my lunch by the duckpond there, as I wasn't sure when I'd next find a bench.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWTbS2zVK9gt0S3mLrBeHALKcjRh8jBkNCQ5hooa8-8ZM2-b5FDHkl1VW_J-hiwwS-ZFYmlSrZCOunl2-5k_l9yRwZ3Y64UdFuqtqqZBCsZD72hWWa1oZc6i9e-WhP8j2PK4xuw1hGG1KCx-o84Fs8Psi69ri4gfVKHZGSHikH4eQ6C1Nd06HWe9r1kWQ/s3264/IMG_6117.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWTbS2zVK9gt0S3mLrBeHALKcjRh8jBkNCQ5hooa8-8ZM2-b5FDHkl1VW_J-hiwwS-ZFYmlSrZCOunl2-5k_l9yRwZ3Y64UdFuqtqqZBCsZD72hWWa1oZc6i9e-WhP8j2PK4xuw1hGG1KCx-o84Fs8Psi69ri4gfVKHZGSHikH4eQ6C1Nd06HWe9r1kWQ/s320/IMG_6117.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St Martin's, Osmaston</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1zP69m2l3gt_FtCdtsrpNkgr5z1B9WgSJmKZ_OY5ECXYWSzE4Y2EE61-6yoVQr2_bGbr47eWLKjOh9bGY0OoYxM6yx6zvOeW5HWYsG87ANmbI3hqh0kmXkm6yyfyDWKmnwJ08K6RJz4DIpxKvA8PMJnCHUJLQCYQKcFJc_NDEX2T_lusHbaxdDN_om6c/s3264/IMG_6119.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1zP69m2l3gt_FtCdtsrpNkgr5z1B9WgSJmKZ_OY5ECXYWSzE4Y2EE61-6yoVQr2_bGbr47eWLKjOh9bGY0OoYxM6yx6zvOeW5HWYsG87ANmbI3hqh0kmXkm6yyfyDWKmnwJ08K6RJz4DIpxKvA8PMJnCHUJLQCYQKcFJc_NDEX2T_lusHbaxdDN_om6c/s320/IMG_6119.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">village pond</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQMUdECzTQxObCLcGyi1mYIAGmHz-WxpeVrGqjvU1QRAWP45T73FAYvy2RT2J_p2j4qTSGC8x-WorvLq2kzkyz5wmss4UKbuwsksjZlIamvUQiugJo1ZC_6xpjDfi2V9TpxQlrEB0MlPUALkJwbfSfGwvq6zs75fVCCHz5gHjyvxdYHeVv_Ew-VUhA54Y/s3264/IMG_6121.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQMUdECzTQxObCLcGyi1mYIAGmHz-WxpeVrGqjvU1QRAWP45T73FAYvy2RT2J_p2j4qTSGC8x-WorvLq2kzkyz5wmss4UKbuwsksjZlIamvUQiugJo1ZC_6xpjDfi2V9TpxQlrEB0MlPUALkJwbfSfGwvq6zs75fVCCHz5gHjyvxdYHeVv_Ew-VUhA54Y/s320/IMG_6121.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>After that I was into Osmaston Estate. I passed some multi-coloured sheep and dropped down to the valley, past an old sawmill. A short ascent on the other side took me to a path junction, where I left the BPCW and turned right to reach a couple of footbridges and fords.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkWuQxVm3JzCOQS_4aYCAtp1fXsl66xnkAR6eL9kIxcd84UsL5yVNB_79BSmOs7BaY5-M_nuTSUczWayRUSulQ4kJ_tjebI31C0dbMwLdkOsl-4bTSk_0WsWx-kAEP1k72CtEnMWCUz2zXtLdGIeRyX3_KcZVOVIgGzWJAz7nRy_eAot3KaLJ2tev1wag/s3264/IMG_6124.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkWuQxVm3JzCOQS_4aYCAtp1fXsl66xnkAR6eL9kIxcd84UsL5yVNB_79BSmOs7BaY5-M_nuTSUczWayRUSulQ4kJ_tjebI31C0dbMwLdkOsl-4bTSk_0WsWx-kAEP1k72CtEnMWCUz2zXtLdGIeRyX3_KcZVOVIgGzWJAz7nRy_eAot3KaLJ2tev1wag/s320/IMG_6124.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn9aPTR0h9IyfLPpRs1dlcpNPKRUlDcb8DbPqMPEm2HVDKMG6Ym2srDo7XVvzeVNEovkhjnJrqrCN42GXJonolHkPjGhdzZJ4t1TflkSCxESwk8vqPlqsrciF4kQZZLKHZO-IO7iKV5fCZ6fTXfbpGzLA1Pt0IxaddtTgh0aqh1Phs3_uCHy7CUc90z5Q/s3264/IMG_6132.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn9aPTR0h9IyfLPpRs1dlcpNPKRUlDcb8DbPqMPEm2HVDKMG6Ym2srDo7XVvzeVNEovkhjnJrqrCN42GXJonolHkPjGhdzZJ4t1TflkSCxESwk8vqPlqsrciF4kQZZLKHZO-IO7iKV5fCZ6fTXfbpGzLA1Pt0IxaddtTgh0aqh1Phs3_uCHy7CUc90z5Q/s320/IMG_6132.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYWg3x9L6Z0A7Klg3jDdEBewUwwo0-bTYjIgVaN0f46EHXpLBFLNR3146L8VhshTGaFIYHvdObsSk07E5a0S291OSJc0pmhTErhqpihC2c3khskOEdPDf9PcyRK39L54fkjEx_8ZhDIByYMNRTGO4fDcEy8etHbIj_nurHznArugHzlakWbNGh_78ARbM/s3264/IMG_6136.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYWg3x9L6Z0A7Klg3jDdEBewUwwo0-bTYjIgVaN0f46EHXpLBFLNR3146L8VhshTGaFIYHvdObsSk07E5a0S291OSJc0pmhTErhqpihC2c3khskOEdPDf9PcyRK39L54fkjEx_8ZhDIByYMNRTGO4fDcEy8etHbIj_nurHznArugHzlakWbNGh_78ARbM/s320/IMG_6136.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>A path alongside Wyaston Brook took me to Wyaston village. I crossed a large field, thinking that it would be much prettier on a sunny day, and followed a country lane all the way back to Ashbourne, taking a short detour to see a neolithic barrow. I finally found a bench to eat the rest of my lunch on, with a great view of a housing estate.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG4yxrqlzs2nI6iwqKNojHapKXJtHFTJdQCfBfQl0WkBGYu-dB1G2MRTrejnMnjhAxiEi5dPFrxSC7QpsWIYO8VFBdPS2ZUIZXm3i50gS5E1doT0MNuzzjm6bSJExmTq1zJ0YiX5OnktiAJTxsswIuP3ljYMtys0VuaRn3ctfX_5Jy0zMAgUHXFQQr-eU/s3264/IMG_6141.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG4yxrqlzs2nI6iwqKNojHapKXJtHFTJdQCfBfQl0WkBGYu-dB1G2MRTrejnMnjhAxiEi5dPFrxSC7QpsWIYO8VFBdPS2ZUIZXm3i50gS5E1doT0MNuzzjm6bSJExmTq1zJ0YiX5OnktiAJTxsswIuP3ljYMtys0VuaRn3ctfX_5Jy0zMAgUHXFQQr-eU/s320/IMG_6141.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">neolithic round barrow</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> <p></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt52AXjDJr3Kch9QDGerEpQYT32QYVdAQsKX8zQQya8R-MODN1vU8UjMJZZNDgB4Y9eZavT8IJGtCFsuqFx3hF9d88NQujONM03PRDd0R43T4apHQaXYNU27LUvJCjWr8p-e-uNMgK1gRSHVlZLSswfv3WE0K4dxWR1wMem8rFsoT1e36Kbf-EjqTAqM8/s3264/IMG_6145.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt52AXjDJr3Kch9QDGerEpQYT32QYVdAQsKX8zQQya8R-MODN1vU8UjMJZZNDgB4Y9eZavT8IJGtCFsuqFx3hF9d88NQujONM03PRDd0R43T4apHQaXYNU27LUvJCjWr8p-e-uNMgK1gRSHVlZLSswfv3WE0K4dxWR1wMem8rFsoT1e36Kbf-EjqTAqM8/s320/IMG_6145.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">lunch view (oh well)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><iframe height="480" src="https://www.google.com/maps/d/embed?mid=1PcZgpv2KwEoJF899YIHk77VcZHuvWic&ehbc=2E312F&noprof=1" width="640"></iframe><p></p><p>14.6 km / 9 miles</p><p>5 February 2024 </p><p><br /></p><h3 style="text-align: left;">Walk 2</h3><p>I parked at the small parking area in Shirley, and spent the first half hour getting to the point where I'd previously left the Bonnie Prince Charlie Walk, then retracing my steps to the car. St Michael's Church was open for a village coffee morning, but I preferred to actually start getting somewhere.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7HCX_HKaNJC956Sgy43yC3CX2Vd2sVA2xjYkZPXqsRR0sHAoIFSHEg9VJj-jP3BzuMAPxbuG7Ro5Ux7kiZuJfM2t4oxeW52g4wS8SZVFmU0Rrd-xz9uFVyMBgNypPJAq_E6lzg-ullMH1vIIn-Z4_gEXc1sqaZ3i9uOx-k5veiEKXUGUKC6I0vjScXro/s3264/IMG_6157.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7HCX_HKaNJC956Sgy43yC3CX2Vd2sVA2xjYkZPXqsRR0sHAoIFSHEg9VJj-jP3BzuMAPxbuG7Ro5Ux7kiZuJfM2t4oxeW52g4wS8SZVFmU0Rrd-xz9uFVyMBgNypPJAq_E6lzg-ullMH1vIIn-Z4_gEXc1sqaZ3i9uOx-k5veiEKXUGUKC6I0vjScXro/s320/IMG_6157.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">great moss!</td></tr></tbody></table> <p></p><p>The instructions told me to turn left opposite the Methodist Chapel, which I later discovered was demolished in 1996. I found the turning, though; a lane and bridlepath leading all the way to Longford. The initial gravel surface soon turned to mud, but the sun was out and it was a pleasant enough walk. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW2tgGHqpSKMs_UK8T196yiz9VxwVcJxWpKK7gWG4vkEuf0ZwUj5an1Fe23LVyvRaOC4Om5iiwsHaDO4EM65QgXqggC_0HudOSQBLN-i0zxzi-zL64HQ52miaYXQNmMpB9ghfsl1sin1uAyHyYqmzW1Id1NgFqIpI4wDFgfmTL33n6fgGv-90rJPSdszw/s3264/IMG_6160.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW2tgGHqpSKMs_UK8T196yiz9VxwVcJxWpKK7gWG4vkEuf0ZwUj5an1Fe23LVyvRaOC4Om5iiwsHaDO4EM65QgXqggC_0HudOSQBLN-i0zxzi-zL64HQ52miaYXQNmMpB9ghfsl1sin1uAyHyYqmzW1Id1NgFqIpI4wDFgfmTL33n6fgGv-90rJPSdszw/s320/IMG_6160.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I came out by a gatehouse with a tree stump carved into a sheaf of wheat. Crossed a road, a stream, and a few fields to reach the southern end of Longford, and then walked back along the road through the village. The most impressive building was a former watermill straddling the river.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxFujLwoWYXhsGlATYtafesOknQmsCSEF4Evhxwh9P_KVujXTsP2iWwbKb6W48_lZZia55nEm2YVsHFdP8YosYAS8cjxK_F_akcc-w4tgCPgx8K6EI0OLhhzQugQf6zLwPmndkUVdwiyZf3r98p7A9llpU_HU4M_8bZgSgFyAW-JQkrmg9s-Z6QXEe1h8/s3264/IMG_6164.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxFujLwoWYXhsGlATYtafesOknQmsCSEF4Evhxwh9P_KVujXTsP2iWwbKb6W48_lZZia55nEm2YVsHFdP8YosYAS8cjxK_F_akcc-w4tgCPgx8K6EI0OLhhzQugQf6zLwPmndkUVdwiyZf3r98p7A9llpU_HU4M_8bZgSgFyAW-JQkrmg9s-Z6QXEe1h8/s320/IMG_6164.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnqW0N_rc-YWLJ8W7cXooXzb8IayVwL9fEQy9GgVOWmbfbFDvztyD780cukOGG0_cZ7_YJDXyAzbQvkcnv5ziblbIF7v3zp5Cg8gC9R-WWZiPX-qyRIjCAKxavR9ZmvpLgJRav_a3b8KHLpTVRrSOM9Xnr0xuPFMnREz1kEGe_2JxVh_LJgMFo_4ArXb8/s3264/IMG_6167.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnqW0N_rc-YWLJ8W7cXooXzb8IayVwL9fEQy9GgVOWmbfbFDvztyD780cukOGG0_cZ7_YJDXyAzbQvkcnv5ziblbIF7v3zp5Cg8gC9R-WWZiPX-qyRIjCAKxavR9ZmvpLgJRav_a3b8KHLpTVRrSOM9Xnr0xuPFMnREz1kEGe_2JxVh_LJgMFo_4ArXb8/s320/IMG_6167.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /> St Chad's Church is next to the many-chimneyed Longford Hall. A Ukraine flag was flying from the church tower. I stopped for a few minutes in the churchyard, although a tree was being taken down nearby, so it wasn't as peaceful as it might have been!<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEhAAkm0L9e3Q970Bc6HhyETCk4aPL-sao5PoLMocRlBxFizL6APQliom7sgQLLBg4PL_tqRg6wkvxf1g7tlMBCnFfjiaNACj9rcmNiU-f9JoQc29vMs0HOBqnZgUfSxlyHJElYxcnsWThVHh98agYoBhu-szp_ZfTaMkxtCOjMfphnB1NDU3o1yd66fo/s3264/IMG_6171.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEhAAkm0L9e3Q970Bc6HhyETCk4aPL-sao5PoLMocRlBxFizL6APQliom7sgQLLBg4PL_tqRg6wkvxf1g7tlMBCnFfjiaNACj9rcmNiU-f9JoQc29vMs0HOBqnZgUfSxlyHJElYxcnsWThVHh98agYoBhu-szp_ZfTaMkxtCOjMfphnB1NDU3o1yd66fo/s320/IMG_6171.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix3aMw5qUp6K0QLgnuNKf3XHyvEx-HFnjRovKln_3IbT7G7-Ud-nVy9SOQ3XQPJgXo4u77EuKD642zfOOd26hICVEDbburEi7e0HqXbXQdZ8rXbe3L2qf_4QPqPDDu4XKWmq4UNwHmMZrUUQNJ-TRlXL11qrdtAmunoBsVFHpC_Kit6yBn3bryQjL6ido/s1440/IMG-20240212-WA0001.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="864" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix3aMw5qUp6K0QLgnuNKf3XHyvEx-HFnjRovKln_3IbT7G7-Ud-nVy9SOQ3XQPJgXo4u77EuKD642zfOOd26hICVEDbburEi7e0HqXbXQdZ8rXbe3L2qf_4QPqPDDu4XKWmq4UNwHmMZrUUQNJ-TRlXL11qrdtAmunoBsVFHpC_Kit6yBn3bryQjL6ido/s320/IMG-20240212-WA0001.jpg" width="192" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I splashed across increasingly waterlogged fields to reach Hollington. It had the obligatory red phone box converted to a library and defibrillator. Two women on horses passed me as I went down a holloway lane. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYv7TbYvtffTbeRGSlKKJPksyITSJQGbB5zb5LslzK-AH-9zNuZKC7_tHNIVRuEKa0XzwYsUOPRnFMj8cQUg7T5NcVZp3MwZeIk8EzO5q6rBd3NV8Sl1JcJDrMIi7GKMCrQxLh-EbEHW4RisREikzTNcRMUEfKCRxDW4UHEH9io-8wes4mDIHVRDalr8/s3264/IMG_6181.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYv7TbYvtffTbeRGSlKKJPksyITSJQGbB5zb5LslzK-AH-9zNuZKC7_tHNIVRuEKa0XzwYsUOPRnFMj8cQUg7T5NcVZp3MwZeIk8EzO5q6rBd3NV8Sl1JcJDrMIi7GKMCrQxLh-EbEHW4RisREikzTNcRMUEfKCRxDW4UHEH9io-8wes4mDIHVRDalr8/s320/IMG_6181.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyV6uZ563HWqee9OmdephONjQm-_jLXJ8FW7hMOLazBcMMcDRDSUgFz9c_yJ_yoidyrBS8mbWjVLyLhiOarFTjQwAp2aaM8z4kbT_M7lDXG-ImbZUdR8mQJ1x1K5foWPYSc52jXOpTNkJ5aOPkNGMGoqt6i-1V_n99Elolqyq2t54AQZnI8VEo6cZLnP8/s3264/IMG_6183.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyV6uZ563HWqee9OmdephONjQm-_jLXJ8FW7hMOLazBcMMcDRDSUgFz9c_yJ_yoidyrBS8mbWjVLyLhiOarFTjQwAp2aaM8z4kbT_M7lDXG-ImbZUdR8mQJ1x1K5foWPYSc52jXOpTNkJ5aOPkNGMGoqt6i-1V_n99Elolqyq2t54AQZnI8VEo6cZLnP8/s320/IMG_6183.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>By the time I reached Shirley again, the coffee morning had finished, but the church was still lovely and warm. I had a quick look round and admired the massive yew tree outside. That must have been around well before Bonnie Prince Charlie.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgps-mcFt1BhtvFnj5XYiYrHFMu3udemgKQuol2zkZMS87q2pqVR4munKpFp0Pffa6u_UknVe7jW4GRBJo_9Mv7UR59jQPaXADtQZIYAY3TtIs42FLe2EVBBP7KzGX128wkw5Agc7P9SnhnHoGKScUlfOnUhXEoV4SC-67tMAUoQEioVZMn2MOr-GBvxWI/s3264/IMG_6186.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgps-mcFt1BhtvFnj5XYiYrHFMu3udemgKQuol2zkZMS87q2pqVR4munKpFp0Pffa6u_UknVe7jW4GRBJo_9Mv7UR59jQPaXADtQZIYAY3TtIs42FLe2EVBBP7KzGX128wkw5Agc7P9SnhnHoGKScUlfOnUhXEoV4SC-67tMAUoQEioVZMn2MOr-GBvxWI/s320/IMG_6186.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St Michael's, Shirley</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXQQzsMyk6v0ogiWAKs015lzY9wYNWYGYNr_O4hiFUK6Lt6QlKfsvYXalkQAOgqCjx5aasbfAOpFZChyphenhyphenb35hXBufsIpwnEr2NXq2pOfoI-yjTWaDXiIDeFndGfucAvyt8PoahxmYzmpU7YnVpYgHtq6q3qKjqFadplGu1ugEpZW1O_bA9n940sU0VS9_o/s3264/IMG_6188.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXQQzsMyk6v0ogiWAKs015lzY9wYNWYGYNr_O4hiFUK6Lt6QlKfsvYXalkQAOgqCjx5aasbfAOpFZChyphenhyphenb35hXBufsIpwnEr2NXq2pOfoI-yjTWaDXiIDeFndGfucAvyt8PoahxmYzmpU7YnVpYgHtq6q3qKjqFadplGu1ugEpZW1O_bA9n940sU0VS9_o/s320/IMG_6188.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><iframe height="480" src="https://www.google.com/maps/d/embed?mid=1hIxR8KHeG4QbChCurtjVv5g196iVJB8&ehbc=2E312F&noprof=1" width="640"></iframe><br /></p><p>13.2 km / 8.2 miles<br /></p><p>12 February 2024</p>Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-29830633467918598222024-02-18T14:05:00.001-06:002024-02-18T14:07:50.806-06:00Hell is still hot?<p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6rrxcI5zMFBJF9sW97V4WTlfZRdaHxTxT5wEuMT0Nz-f-oORNWd-cvYGLzzjSseWAceOzaOos_xBe4kh_ZuFXF5qzWNIFFIW_qnnzgzsL2XvttXdcd7RK_BmKESFN86_bVc5Cz97YF0eoEAiYqOWHAuzog-7VPujY8L7EvWd8LNQEIBzQ1tbjHhvRBu0/s735/dead%20tree%20live%20tree.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="735" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6rrxcI5zMFBJF9sW97V4WTlfZRdaHxTxT5wEuMT0Nz-f-oORNWd-cvYGLzzjSseWAceOzaOos_xBe4kh_ZuFXF5qzWNIFFIW_qnnzgzsL2XvttXdcd7RK_BmKESFN86_bVc5Cz97YF0eoEAiYqOWHAuzog-7VPujY8L7EvWd8LNQEIBzQ1tbjHhvRBu0/s320/dead%20tree%20live%20tree.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Sometimes it's good when people say things we disagree with.<p></p><p>Not always; it can be irritating, frustrating, or wounding. But sometimes it arouses our curiosity, causes us to examine our assumptions, and sets us off on a trail of new discoveries.</p><p>So it was when somebody posted this image on Facebook.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxXi8c8anyxjhRYaaCnumMpO8raJoKwCGRl4IFpYYhMzpZSP_6m0QSRTOzlsh2NJGYRXSjsZS_JYD0WJUkHP6TcdNiNQ4m9teMLLwl8xSWmv233BholJBpnyMdPK6f4M1CFFRnsAsQOFwqN2PcWvJT4aC60oVf12tHzCNxaq8pA-EccRzHqVanx_zcSSg/s675/facebook_1704302341885_7148362129779470725.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="675" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxXi8c8anyxjhRYaaCnumMpO8raJoKwCGRl4IFpYYhMzpZSP_6m0QSRTOzlsh2NJGYRXSjsZS_JYD0WJUkHP6TcdNiNQ4m9teMLLwl8xSWmv233BholJBpnyMdPK6f4M1CFFRnsAsQOFwqN2PcWvJT4aC60oVf12tHzCNxaq8pA-EccRzHqVanx_zcSSg/s320/facebook_1704302341885_7148362129779470725.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> <p></p><p>It says, in emphatic block capitals: We need preachers who preach that hell is still hot, that heaven is still real, that sin is still wrong, that the Bible is God's word, and that Jesus is the only way of salvation.</p><p>After my initial reaction of, "We certainly do <i>not!</i>" the curiosity kicked in. What was it about this particular formulation of the Christian faith that I didn't like? If I wouldn't preach that, what <i>would</i> I preach? Given that hell is not a major topic of the Bible, how on earth did we get Christians who think it merits headline billing in the gospel?<br /></p><h4 style="text-align: left;">What's wrong with it? <br /></h4><p>Picking something apart is always the easy bit. I partly object to what this meme <i>does</i> say. I don't think that "hell is still hot" should ever, <i>ever,</i> be the first line of a sermon. And although it mentions heaven on the second line, it's only "real" - at best a neutral word, which, sandwiched between a hot hell and wrong sin, comes across as closer to a threat than a promise. </p><p>That repetition of "still" suggests, to me, a reluctance to change, an avoidance of exploration. This is the only truth about God, Jesus is the "only way", and there is no possibility of discussion. <br /></p><p>And I partly object to what it <i>doesn't</i> explicitly say. The words it uses suggest a wider context with a set of values which I do not hold. That means my brain tends to fill in the gaps with phrases like: </p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>hell is still hot (and you're going there if you don't believe what we believe)</li><li>sin is still wrong (especially if it's homosexuality, doubt, or women preaching)</li><li>the Bible is God's word (which must be interpreted in this particular way, with no deviation)</li></ul><p>Of course I realise that the parts in brackets don't <i>necessarily</i> follow from the original statements. The problem is that they often do, so that it's difficult to say the first half without people hearing the second. In fact, I think these kind of statements are often used to say, "This is the type of Christian I am" without spelling out the bits in brackets. </p><p>Overall it gives an impression of a God who barely tolerates us, of a preacher who knows he is right and everyone outside his church is wrong, and a religion which leans heavily on the fear of hell.<br /></p><h4 style="text-align: left;">What would I say instead?</h4><p style="text-align: left;">The interesting thing when I started wondering what I would say instead, is that none of my statements were original. I'm not sure I could previously have named my major influences, but once I started thinking, they rapidly popped up.<br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">My first thought, as an antidote to this meme, was "God is nice and he likes you", which is <a href="https://adrianplass.com/2018/11/16/interview-for-the-baptist-times/">Adrian Plass</a>, of course. His <i>Sacred Diary</i> probably qualifies as classic literature by now, but it's still worth reading.</p><p style="text-align: left;">That seemed a little simplistic, so I expanded a bit: "<span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs x1xmvt09 x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u" dir="auto" lang="en">God is endlessly fascinating, and more generous than you expect". I have to credit <a href="https://quiteirregular.wordpress.com/2016/06/04/god-is-interesting-a-mild-manifesto-for-mission/?fbclid=IwAR3oOBqJcRd_MZNSm7A8mz06SOYHNbza6boL4VhtLGVCvoRxQ4raBcCDZlc">Jem Bloomfield</a> for the idea that God is quite interesting - or endlessly fascinating - an idea which I developed in my blog post about <a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2020/04/playing-with-pendulums-or-why-science.html">why faith is like science</a>. The generosity comes from <a href="https://rachelheldevans.com/">Rachel Held Evans</a>, who wrote in <i>Faith Unravelled</i>, "Where I expected to find anger [in Isaiah 55], I found tenderness and affection. Where I expected to find a lecture, I found poetry."<br /></span></p><p>Finally, I couldn't resist writing my own statement in the style of the meme.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCJHiq1kJBG2dcQ5cw0C86f_JTmpLF94QrtiMpBZ_BrpR3_lJ83N_66ZiKtGB3E3oZQt9Dr4ITBDNSmCDn7_rODFzgowqrCwo5xIZRpYojYfKOzS_SZNyPj5sa-K-h3UczfL6BDANYaj0nNhBvjp9pFl_gig3X4a_o49XFaPSIif5VnKrwWex-HPDKsCk/s982/let's%20be%20Christians2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="982" data-original-width="874" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCJHiq1kJBG2dcQ5cw0C86f_JTmpLF94QrtiMpBZ_BrpR3_lJ83N_66ZiKtGB3E3oZQt9Dr4ITBDNSmCDn7_rODFzgowqrCwo5xIZRpYojYfKOzS_SZNyPj5sa-K-h3UczfL6BDANYaj0nNhBvjp9pFl_gig3X4a_o49XFaPSIif5VnKrwWex-HPDKsCk/s320/let's%20be%20Christians2.jpg" width="285" /></a></div>I dropped the all-caps and went for: Let's be Christians who show that grace is still real, that justice will be done, that sins are forgiven, that God is generous, and that Jesus' way is the way to life.<br /><p></p><p>It's hard to sum up a creed in eight lines; I still feel I could tweak it. There's definitely some <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/88448.Penelope_Wilcock">Penelope Wilcock</a> influence in there, and echoes of recent homegroup discussions about justice and judgement, partly based on <a href="https://homegroups.org.uk/series/struggling-with-judgement/">these videos</a>. <br /></p><p>And I'm sure others could add some disparaging brackets to my version as well. But if I were preaching, this would be the version I'd preach. Preaching would be easier than living. Most of the disparaging brackets would highlight the fact that I live it extremely poorly.<br /></p><h4 style="text-align: left;">And the hell thing?</h4><p style="text-align: left;">Well, I bought a book!<br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><img alt="May be an image of text" class="x1ey2m1c xds687c x5yr21d x10l6tqk x17qophe x13vifvy xh8yej3 xl1xv1r" height="320" src="https://scontent.fman4-2.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t39.30808-6/420058262_10161514567533899_2084624681226417447_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_p526x296&_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=3635dc&_nc_ohc=1g6IvGOUvRIAX9tcg3c&_nc_ht=scontent.fman4-2.fna&oh=00_AfAbdZyppFu5Szqm5e2Q3LsRYSsgIrN9XY2R76hMM9NYIQ&oe=65D76AA9" width="200" /> <br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">It was an interesting summary of the history and geography of hell by someone who doesn't believe in it at all. I'm not entirely sure what I believe about hell; I think the subject is going to need more exploration and another blog post. </p><p style="text-align: left;">So there we go. Curiosity aroused, assumptions examined, and new discoveries about hell, of all things, to be made.<br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">And "hell is still hot" is my new definition of a bad sermon.<br /></p>Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-40171325951435030552024-02-03T08:39:00.002-06:002024-02-03T08:39:27.318-06:00Interior Castle: Spiritual Formation Book 11<p>"We cannot enter by any efforts of our own; His Majesty must put us right into the centre of our soul, and must enter there Himself."</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidF6JI0fncmwoXhrZ26IDglUnswWqRMISSOfqsoqUEa7bmyBrvTvR4KopBuXAQTuKgAlizATYY1hJFcbCoYFg76pRoXnbj2W6rlu6HXk20t7pjTA3guceTfLmarCz4l9YHkyTXhjersQzD_Yv657bA2aphUcsrB5KCWm-mCPZsgp25HVj50pVoQLF9q3A/s450/interior%20castle.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="298" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidF6JI0fncmwoXhrZ26IDglUnswWqRMISSOfqsoqUEa7bmyBrvTvR4KopBuXAQTuKgAlizATYY1hJFcbCoYFg76pRoXnbj2W6rlu6HXk20t7pjTA3guceTfLmarCz4l9YHkyTXhjersQzD_Yv657bA2aphUcsrB5KCWm-mCPZsgp25HVj50pVoQLF9q3A/s320/interior%20castle.jpeg" width="212" /></a></div> <p></p><p>St Teresa of Avila reluctantly began to write <i>Interior Castle</i> (or <i>The Mansions</i>) in 1577, complaining that "this writing under obedience tires me and makes my head worse". She set herself to the task of explaining her vision of the soul being like "a castle made of a single diamond... in which there are many rooms, just as in Heaven there are many mansions". </p><p>Her writing is engaging but dense; I found it difficult to read more than about ten pages at a time. She also has a habit of introducing terms like <i>favours</i> or <i>intellectual visions</i> and talking about them for a while, before finally defining what they mean several chapters later. This gets confusing.</p><p>On the other hand, St Teresa is good at thinking of illustrations to explain what she means. She frequently exclaims that these visions are impossible to describe to anyone who hasn't experienced God in such a way, but she does a pretty good job. By the end she is able to conclude, "I think my labour has been well spent" - and clearly it was, since we are still reading her words five centuries later.</p><h2 style="text-align: left;">What is the book about?</h2><p style="text-align: left;">St Teresa divides the soul into seven mansions. The soul which begins to seek God enters the first mansion through prayer and meditation. From there God may reveal himself more and more fully through successive mansions, although this comes at great cost and there is always the possibility of falling back if the soul ceases to grow in love. The seventh, and innermost, is where God dwells, and where the soul is fully united with Him. </p><p style="text-align: left;">This journey is accompanied by favours from God, by which the soul comes to know him. These may include visions, words, and feelings of intense longing and love. But they should never be the prime focus; God gives these favours as he wills, and they don't, in themselves, make a person a better Christian.</p><h2 style="text-align: left;">What encouraged you?</h2><p style="text-align: left;">I liked the practicality of St Teresa's approach. This rather sums it up: "I am doing this so that you may not suppose everything you imagine to be a vision, and so that, when you do see a vision, you will know that such a thing is possible." In other words, don't get over-excited and think that every little thing is a vision from God, but don't discount it all as fantasy, either.</p><p style="text-align: left;">She carefully lists ways in which you can tell an experience is from God (for example, a sense of peace and certainty) and makes sure to point out that you can't force any of these things to happen. You can put yourself in a position of "humble expectation", but if nothing happens, don't "stay there like ninnies". Carry on with works of charity and prayers. "Our best plan is to place ourselves in the Lord's presence... and leave Him to give us what he wills."<br /></p><h2 style="text-align: left;">What challenged you?</h2><p style="text-align: left;">Some of the parts about sin and suffering were difficult to understand, because they were very different to how I would think about it. St Teresa says that she had a vision of a soul in mortal sin, and from that "she had learned to have the greatest fear of offending Him... she continually begged Him not to allow her to fall". Later she talks about the extreme suffering that comes from longing to be united with God, and remarks, "He can torment as well as comfort". To modern-day ears, such statements sound like a description of an abusive relationship. Yet I'm sure St Teresa would say that nothing could be further from her experience.</p><p style="text-align: left;">More generally, she is in poor health, and attributes at least some of that to God afflicting her. As I understand it, St Teresa believes that Jesus suffered a great deal, so our suffering is a way to join with him; and that any amount of suffering is worth it if it leads to unity with God. I would hesitate to claim that God causes any illness or suffering. But then, I live in a culture that regards any amount of pain as bad, something to be avoided at all costs. Is that true, or can there be positive aspects to it?</p><h2 style="text-align: left;">How has it changed how you see things?</h2><p style="text-align: left;">St Teresa devotes a chapter to <i>locutions</i>, which essentially means "voices" or "words from God". It appears that most people she comes across think that these locutions are pure imagination. They don't believe that people can hear God speak, either audibly or internally.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Most churches I have attended could broadly be described as charismatic evangelical. These take the opposite approach. It is expected that anyone can, or should, hear from God; and if someone claims to do so, the veracity of it is rarely questioned.</p><p style="text-align: left;">It was interesting, then, to read St Teresa's thoughts on the matter. She starts by saying that locutions "may come from God, in any of the ways I have mentioned, or they may equally well come from the devil or from one's own imagination." She suggests several ways in which it may be clear whether a word is from God or not. Even if you are "very confident", she says; "if what is said is of great importance and involves some action", you should consult a trusted person "of clear insight" before doing anything.</p><p style="text-align: left;">I think this is important. I do like her straightforward approach to these things. Yes, it might be God speaking to you, but it might not. Weigh it up. Don't rush to believe it or dismiss it.</p><h2 style="text-align: left;">What would you like to explore further?</h2><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1D-bxzhKPxGgXDoI10jBOu1fFSql6lVpecMp3Nq8L8Gz5gzRhszHq6m4dpo0I6jbeQ4Shbv3OnF4WA5tO0ddnN98U4TBQwdC8cCRWTpF5LdR_qtdFZkk4gMcbVfIccXfLgGlMtVz899-AesouyUr5BtqtPeFl6VViik5StszlRBgC1YdMmmGylTXBIiA/s1280/bees-326337_1280.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="854" data-original-width="1280" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1D-bxzhKPxGgXDoI10jBOu1fFSql6lVpecMp3Nq8L8Gz5gzRhszHq6m4dpo0I6jbeQ4Shbv3OnF4WA5tO0ddnN98U4TBQwdC8cCRWTpF5LdR_qtdFZkk4gMcbVfIccXfLgGlMtVz899-AesouyUr5BtqtPeFl6VViik5StszlRBgC1YdMmmGylTXBIiA/s320/bees-326337_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: left;">In the chapter on the First Mansions, St Teresa stresses the importance of humility with this beautiful image: "Humility must be always doing its work like a bee making its honey in the hive: without humility all will be lost." Self-knowledge is key; this leads to the kind of humility which realises how undeserving we are of any of God's favours, not the false kind of humility which won't attempt anything because we think we will fail. This self-knowledge comes not only from looking at ourselves, but also from looking at God. "We shall reach much greater heights of virtue by thinking upon the virtue of God than if we stay in our own little plot of ground."</p><p style="text-align: left;">I can always use a little more humility and a little more looking at God. </p><h2 style="text-align: left;">What is one thing you will remember?</h2><p style="text-align: left;">"All that the beginner in prayer must do - and you must not forget this, for it is very important - is to labour and be resolute and prepare himself with all possible diligence to bring his will into conformity with the will of God."</p><p style="text-align: left;">"The Lord asks only two things of us: love for His Majesty and love for our neighbour... If we attain them perfectly we are doing His will and so shall be united with Him. But how far we are from doing these two things in the way we ought for a God Who is so great!"</p><p style="text-align: left;">Regardless of visions and mystical experiences, St Teresa knows how to drill down to the essentials of the Christian faith. Without this as our foundation, everything else is pointless.<br /></p>Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-24999659657212920152024-01-23T05:28:00.002-06:002024-01-30T13:58:46.066-06:00National Forest Way: Final Thoughts<p>As you may have gathered from my blog posts, I've really enjoyed walking the National Forest Way. I found myself eagerly anticipating each walk, and happily inking the route on the map when I'd done it.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWGi0NSsXet2_rF1AIp_-w17CwqhKthyjL1-lCCBfeBmkHwoYcuMCR6w9C3LJd7lbR__kxkpYC46PWSCuz25xVfZL1onNUnbzItf4puaq5clMNL75zFckGl3WfgP4o-9P6D3ofRzBx96vfZK9LHn468uxFyPAQaUY4PtHT79IeNeu4TsKBU2pHwHEB3L0/s2592/IMG_20240115_093107815.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1952" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWGi0NSsXet2_rF1AIp_-w17CwqhKthyjL1-lCCBfeBmkHwoYcuMCR6w9C3LJd7lbR__kxkpYC46PWSCuz25xVfZL1onNUnbzItf4puaq5clMNL75zFckGl3WfgP4o-9P6D3ofRzBx96vfZK9LHn468uxFyPAQaUY4PtHT79IeNeu4TsKBU2pHwHEB3L0/s320/IMG_20240115_093107815.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><p>The National Forest Way is an ideal starter long-distance walk. There are no enormous mountains or exposed cliff edges. The route is never too far from a village, a car park, or a cafe. But there are some lovely views over sunny fields, some beautiful patches of woodland, and some industrial history along the way. I very rarely found it boring.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRi69WkumtbMHYp3-yKUPXAeU9WfPDtLH2NNBrR6S19FnTwihHtqKS3G00GCUv_S7zUvDfBDgeSes3Atw9bFRzxs7Yr5ExQApr74MArVbcbfVwx06s_IQstVYt0ChTwZaLK1WhsKq-nAVD6edsPoOxKnAPSSNKiedYeuczxDb8Ss1jF0m6nDA0KO5ApS0/s3264/IMG_20230408_105903532.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRi69WkumtbMHYp3-yKUPXAeU9WfPDtLH2NNBrR6S19FnTwihHtqKS3G00GCUv_S7zUvDfBDgeSes3Atw9bFRzxs7Yr5ExQApr74MArVbcbfVwx06s_IQstVYt0ChTwZaLK1WhsKq-nAVD6edsPoOxKnAPSSNKiedYeuczxDb8Ss1jF0m6nDA0KO5ApS0/s320/IMG_20230408_105903532.jpg" width="240" /></a></div> <p></p><p>An advantage that I didn't appreciate when I started is that the Way forms a giant zigzag. This means it fits 75 miles of path into a relatively compact space, making it easy to reach all of it. From my home in south Derbyshire, every section was within a 40 minute drive. The distance between Beacon Hill and the National Memorial Arboretum is only about 25 miles.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgixPgouv3BhM0GzKKruh6O6IoMQLicLrTiwoBT-BDcnh-1fo2aXLhXZPceXFU-8ev1h8t0zo-Bt5XQYI1TxdLN0EkJrZ9KLy_CWnFnh1YA4_iw0ncf7Gn87lTSj3lDqQaVRnSI-EfQmgWyLee57ezmH4jmxulYSPbymIbGZHUbeSltfXMAHYfSTUxlGBY/s3264/IMG_5544.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgixPgouv3BhM0GzKKruh6O6IoMQLicLrTiwoBT-BDcnh-1fo2aXLhXZPceXFU-8ev1h8t0zo-Bt5XQYI1TxdLN0EkJrZ9KLy_CWnFnh1YA4_iw0ncf7Gn87lTSj3lDqQaVRnSI-EfQmgWyLee57ezmH4jmxulYSPbymIbGZHUbeSltfXMAHYfSTUxlGBY/s320/IMG_5544.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>The countryside is lovely, and generally overlooked in favour of the Peak District. I often went for miles without seeing another person. There are exceptions (<i>don't</i> do Bradgate Park on a Bank Holiday like I did!) but usually it's very tranquil. Of course, you can join the crowds if you like; Calke Abbey, Conkers, Rosliston Forestry Centre, and Foremark Reservoir are all popular attractions <i>en route</i>.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXbqbWwAEZlgidB6JM-EZC0SwLOsqcqH81H05VpDN3AiPooApXhoGxQfC97Asz2tP7gYCKbdudabVxtWfbmHpIZ9CB6oocSBb9OiNBAhuH3Kb025Srjdsv2ZKMXATOEnYc7g1IgyyN-Ct81LyjAKMhh7T5RYnQY9URdI924FffdqsEVPOlJFWOhTOELYo/s3264/IMG_5566.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXbqbWwAEZlgidB6JM-EZC0SwLOsqcqH81H05VpDN3AiPooApXhoGxQfC97Asz2tP7gYCKbdudabVxtWfbmHpIZ9CB6oocSBb9OiNBAhuH3Kb025Srjdsv2ZKMXATOEnYc7g1IgyyN-Ct81LyjAKMhh7T5RYnQY9URdI924FffdqsEVPOlJFWOhTOELYo/s320/IMG_5566.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Finally, but very importantly, the directions for the National Forest Way are excellent. The <a href="https://www.nationalforest.org/visit/national-forest-way-downloads">free downloads</a> cover each stage in both directions (many paths assume you will only walk one way). They include a chunk of the OS map with the route clearly marked. In general, the waymarkers on the ground are obvious, too. Occasionally one has disappeared. I often found the directions useful on the short sections through village streets, where the arrows were less common. But I almost never had a problem finding the path.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwUXYvLBiZ8KA-ZCyJTVeqySwG2k7IuPeaFzans3qAF6CNg9-__fgnM5MzgY-Jtvn5lTl-59Mbp0-JUdKeXU6d2D5q9b93JPkG5aukbjT9xvqVlSHslOMNB6lsi5iRx-7S1f-gUmVZt8eU7T_t1STSpHYze9R_QkRP4V4sc__gbrd2JIkvim5vl4FXhRE/s3264/IMG_5497.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwUXYvLBiZ8KA-ZCyJTVeqySwG2k7IuPeaFzans3qAF6CNg9-__fgnM5MzgY-Jtvn5lTl-59Mbp0-JUdKeXU6d2D5q9b93JPkG5aukbjT9xvqVlSHslOMNB6lsi5iRx-7S1f-gUmVZt8eU7T_t1STSpHYze9R_QkRP4V4sc__gbrd2JIkvim5vl4FXhRE/s320/IMG_5497.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p></p><p>There were only a couple of minor quibbles. Firstly, as someone who likes paper maps, I found it annoying that while most of the route was on OS Explorer 245 (National Forest, obviously!) I then had to buy two more maps to finish - Leicester and Loughborough. However, I do realise that all sensible people have gone over to apps now. And if I wasn't so keen on plotting my route with a Sharpie, I probably would have just used the downloads and not bought the extra maps. Still, I might complete the Leicestershire Round one day...<br /></p><p>The only other disappointment was the lack of starting and finishing signposts. There are some very nice information boards along the way. So it was a surprise to get to Beacon Hill and find nothing, not even a waymarker with "START/END" underneath it. I don't remember anything at the Arboretum, either, although that was a long time ago. Both places are owned by separate organisations; perhaps that led to difficulties in putting up signs.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLkHIh2z1x00Ufue1MP-nIujF018fdJ9FssRcndrLtU9x_t8bgOoOrqCAUp4hV3yGl092B3qyYEnNQi_8IJER8BURgBb2KRKuM8T7RDH5yMVaiRUs24KcIANOGeFmIpY8yUcM5NvD_JJtdVSWZ6OPWkuTQ7j7huy88uGMHNqYY3Vz1B-kv_wQnKGtCQEM/s3264/IMG_5686.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLkHIh2z1x00Ufue1MP-nIujF018fdJ9FssRcndrLtU9x_t8bgOoOrqCAUp4hV3yGl092B3qyYEnNQi_8IJER8BURgBb2KRKuM8T7RDH5yMVaiRUs24KcIANOGeFmIpY8yUcM5NvD_JJtdVSWZ6OPWkuTQ7j7huy88uGMHNqYY3Vz1B-kv_wQnKGtCQEM/s320/IMG_5686.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>It's hard to pick highlights. <a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/04/walking-national-forest-way-with-two.html">Jacksons Bank</a> and <a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/07/national-forest-way-overseal-to.html">Gresley Woods</a> were both beautiful. I would like to go back and walk around <a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/12/national-forest-way-bagworth-and.html">Thornton Reservoir</a> on a sunny day. <a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/07/national-forest-way-rosliston-to.html">Netherseal</a>, with Sir Nigel Gresley's grave, was interesting, and the miners' memorial at <a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/11/national-forest-way-ellistown-bagworth.html">Bagworth</a> unexpectedly moving. And of course, you can't beat <a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2024/01/national-forest-way-end.html">Beacon Hill</a>.<br /></p><p>So, if you've ever been wondering about trying a long-distance route, I would recommend the National Forest Way as a great place to start. It's not too strenuous, it's easy to get to, you'll see a lot of trees... and if you want company, I'd be happy to do any of it again.</p><p>All the posts:</p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2024/01/national-forest-way-end.html">Beacon Hill</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2024/01/national-forest-way-bradgate-park.html">Bradgate Park </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/12/national-forest-way-ratby-and.html">Ratby and Martinshaw Wood</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/12/national-forest-way-bagworth-and.html">Bagworth and Thornton Reservoir</a> <br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/11/national-forest-way-ellistown-bagworth.html">Ellistown, Bagworth, Nailstone </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/10/national-forest-way-normanton-le-heath.html">Normanton le Heath - Ellistown</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/10/national-forest-way-ashby-to-normanton.html">Ashby - Normanton le Heath </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/09/national-forest-way-calke-abbey-to.html">Calke Abbey - Ashby de la Zouch </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/08/national-forest-way-hartshorne-foremark.html">Hartshorne, Foremark, Calke Abbey </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/07/national-forest-way-overseal-to.html">Overseal - Hartshorne</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/07/national-forest-way-rosliston-to.html">Rosliston - Overseal</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/05/national-forest-way-rangemore-to.html">Rangemore - Rosliston</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/04/walking-national-forest-way-with-two.html">National Memorial Arboretum - Rangemore</a></p><p> </p>Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-27754343907446408782024-01-17T13:21:00.001-06:002024-01-17T13:21:40.259-06:00National Forest Way: The End!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIGtqHij0PR6J3m58zkxPNMqjG0k1m86nRMY2pRe6Ut_GtCgRangQpRdpqthqoNzPakTGKRJ9IJd-26U8WYbdi2tzSNlHuYNoqhzO2SNpkuHnTTEis4TlbN3Gx4zVOyEjGKjx3YmOfl-lLf3N-VAspiYy3jM86Zs3N_rUpYxssbjXO46InjlnV-BrunYs/s3264/IMG_6084.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIGtqHij0PR6J3m58zkxPNMqjG0k1m86nRMY2pRe6Ut_GtCgRangQpRdpqthqoNzPakTGKRJ9IJd-26U8WYbdi2tzSNlHuYNoqhzO2SNpkuHnTTEis4TlbN3Gx4zVOyEjGKjx3YmOfl-lLf3N-VAspiYy3jM86Zs3N_rUpYxssbjXO46InjlnV-BrunYs/s320/IMG_6084.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>The National Forest Way finishes at Beacon Hill, Leicestershire, with beautiful wide-ranging views in all directions. I'd been hoping for a sunny day, and this one certainly fit the bill. The frosty earth lay under a glorious canopy of shining blue sky.</p><p><iframe height="480" src="https://www.google.com/maps/d/embed?mid=1EkxkMmzPNvKyubZ7cHCp1sFrFSWpKQk&ehbc=2E312F&noprof=1" width="640"></iframe></p><p>I parked at Swithland Wood, close to where we finished the previous walk. Finding the waymarker on the first gate was bittersweet - this was the last time I would be following these familiar circles.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh65YC0_784PWtgwVWac5BDmdHRTDyu_UqW9WFcdFAChANqAjl79Iziw-viPVJRsL2_srwJsbjHlz-ovQutk526NbYPO9k93z6njrWvv2qHP0WNwZKE0ZI6Ae6U59UYb6JdpBTSms-OaYGnuKqoNgkl1ESvIBQqOoOUI7LyTxgkJFWLVFrz1G6PWrkzzII/s2592/IMG_20240115_093107815.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1952" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh65YC0_784PWtgwVWac5BDmdHRTDyu_UqW9WFcdFAChANqAjl79Iziw-viPVJRsL2_srwJsbjHlz-ovQutk526NbYPO9k93z6njrWvv2qHP0WNwZKE0ZI6Ae6U59UYb6JdpBTSms-OaYGnuKqoNgkl1ESvIBQqOoOUI7LyTxgkJFWLVFrz1G6PWrkzzII/s320/IMG_20240115_093107815.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisEV33vkuJKcys8hixQ5aAtSBYT4XP5sbiBnBtQj7WlHg3pmvF4oRfSJOSRoqRrOlVmTzGQOb6Tpoz3FUIuALMFvoQcfvsclW8dm0ktIc3fy1ZwjGpgG8jCgmF4P65cC2J_SNTnZDyReY4M2spLPOadWSzDy5UrEtqniXqXQmxY5nUyTX_rV0-2hHpBMs/s3264/IMG_6072.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisEV33vkuJKcys8hixQ5aAtSBYT4XP5sbiBnBtQj7WlHg3pmvF4oRfSJOSRoqRrOlVmTzGQOb6Tpoz3FUIuALMFvoQcfvsclW8dm0ktIc3fy1ZwjGpgG8jCgmF4P65cC2J_SNTnZDyReY4M2spLPOadWSzDy5UrEtqniXqXQmxY5nUyTX_rV0-2hHpBMs/s320/IMG_6072.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>Swithland Wood had been acquired by the Rotary Club in 1931, and later passed on to Bradgate Park Trust. The lumpy terrain was due to slate quarrying. I skirted a couple of fenced-off pits. As I left the wood, I passed a lake which I assumed was another flooded quarry, but with an odd little tower next to the water.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5EiBTEyMBUw72fpJfBOm4avWcp2OYm0xDBkPQVASCRIjKcK9roMaDQw341HPDSHIj3EcwI59PaMot9Z8XBwbIQkEQZc3oNz9z-_taV3X6_ZETP2_xq5BGQ9q_YQT4HKzjyAtLN11t34grRgX45-0ht1Y0KJw83_khEr8swV4YQXiuU_uimc2Ag0SoSBc/s3264/IMG_6074.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5EiBTEyMBUw72fpJfBOm4avWcp2OYm0xDBkPQVASCRIjKcK9roMaDQw341HPDSHIj3EcwI59PaMot9Z8XBwbIQkEQZc3oNz9z-_taV3X6_ZETP2_xq5BGQ9q_YQT4HKzjyAtLN11t34grRgX45-0ht1Y0KJw83_khEr8swV4YQXiuU_uimc2Ag0SoSBc/s320/IMG_6074.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCXj74NGC72VIV9MjTqamXo7QVKq9JvkR5gVoC-uICuxnEfuJuiogOL9i7_HK-l-vHvSNM5wSJL5Jyw-Wznzts0sZ0l6uQENOfO1ddLK2ZqIB2tXsEB8RB78sAcSXJv06YWprq5-N2MIKljol2dmsEajc4k2O8Z2em0HqIwQAEZV9faK1VH9DKHUy9ykY/s3264/IMG_6077.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCXj74NGC72VIV9MjTqamXo7QVKq9JvkR5gVoC-uICuxnEfuJuiogOL9i7_HK-l-vHvSNM5wSJL5Jyw-Wznzts0sZ0l6uQENOfO1ddLK2ZqIB2tXsEB8RB78sAcSXJv06YWprq5-N2MIKljol2dmsEajc4k2O8Z2em0HqIwQAEZV9faK1VH9DKHUy9ykY/s320/IMG_6077.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p>I followed a road up a steady hill towards Woodhouse Eaves. Many of the houses were surrounded by walls of the local slate. Woodhouse Eaves was a prosperous-looking village with some nice old buildings.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDiJAHJGUU_5DHaN3GomDxAgOsUChFdNb7rwmZ0KakFd9UMOk-gsaG08iRyNTbxgdpBECUiVoIFzaEJYGJO8jBuQDQmUKSMaz6IuVjB6sqwKmFeVM82_O8y5V2VsqVI2fizkDapIrENqUUU1dLgO9N_6rHlVH9Mt_x3iJo07_DPn4dShXRnQ9YsQceRZg/s3264/IMG_6079.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDiJAHJGUU_5DHaN3GomDxAgOsUChFdNb7rwmZ0KakFd9UMOk-gsaG08iRyNTbxgdpBECUiVoIFzaEJYGJO8jBuQDQmUKSMaz6IuVjB6sqwKmFeVM82_O8y5V2VsqVI2fizkDapIrENqUUU1dLgO9N_6rHlVH9Mt_x3iJo07_DPn4dShXRnQ9YsQceRZg/s320/IMG_6079.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN44H69zPpKgeS_NyjYmX9R3ZpnVAtBYnxXry85FugIUzCsXcCwUpUnC3Mqghd0b30qHyP9cr-ArWj5ZQle4mxurQE1G9f6S744Ct1ei0uEBx3YSGh1AMYicCf5NtJ_UkPLIJ891vgoaLDLseTj4CKMW4NPAE7NB9wR8nGTyMqnBpTfMXOZuwpTnqxYtU/s3264/IMG_6090.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN44H69zPpKgeS_NyjYmX9R3ZpnVAtBYnxXry85FugIUzCsXcCwUpUnC3Mqghd0b30qHyP9cr-ArWj5ZQle4mxurQE1G9f6S744Ct1ei0uEBx3YSGh1AMYicCf5NtJ_UkPLIJ891vgoaLDLseTj4CKMW4NPAE7NB9wR8nGTyMqnBpTfMXOZuwpTnqxYtU/s320/IMG_6090.JPG" width="320" /></a> <br /></div><p></p><p>Crossing the wide open fields of Broombriggs Farm Country Park, I met a couple of other walkers, who remarked on the beautiful weather. Soon I was climbing up the broad gravel path to the top of Beacon Hill.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdmpRbczJqPqpUl58joN1sY_D-mX96CiY45GT6gW3EiiVcxe2340Yn3CXmD6neRlBenZFuwNGFYVjGCNwhaK-iOWFOXZt55dfyJGpEVezNS6P43wndcJQFM-_tJJ66xMBCz3Ku92RcwtpRsnOaoERXhH_z940Ued6rWFKQ19370uQIz6lJHmaMmW3Uw5Q/s3264/IMG_6081.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdmpRbczJqPqpUl58joN1sY_D-mX96CiY45GT6gW3EiiVcxe2340Yn3CXmD6neRlBenZFuwNGFYVjGCNwhaK-iOWFOXZt55dfyJGpEVezNS6P43wndcJQFM-_tJJ66xMBCz3Ku92RcwtpRsnOaoERXhH_z940Ued6rWFKQ19370uQIz6lJHmaMmW3Uw5Q/s320/IMG_6081.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuVl-yOhmPKclEJvkjC8VO-ABRjXYDe7ovcmzQTxVwiJWtrtSSCnMqWqIzJkrOBHd276w90CH7siWV3bYolpE-wM4JqrlZZ77p4wkcL7FOEdh5vk83hfpRGAlMvgsRZ5zwD0PSm4Q2m3FTjaVQolv3RMH8PuoA28v1jFv5cf1OiTnArddo693z-Yb15PA/s3264/IMG_6082.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuVl-yOhmPKclEJvkjC8VO-ABRjXYDe7ovcmzQTxVwiJWtrtSSCnMqWqIzJkrOBHd276w90CH7siWV3bYolpE-wM4JqrlZZ77p4wkcL7FOEdh5vk83hfpRGAlMvgsRZ5zwD0PSm4Q2m3FTjaVQolv3RMH8PuoA28v1jFv5cf1OiTnArddo693z-Yb15PA/s320/IMG_6082.JPG" width="320" /></a> <br /></div><p></p><p>Wow. This was not a view to rush away from. I stayed and soaked it in for quite some time.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLFGnbysSn5PMomEsG9DFuZwyAa87xYsf0ExT_uzNs5MyghHnpIiOrCsfgEe-op1a_EzY-OqHG4xla_T9by0Cl_zsSBlZALDlxUw8QcVgbtp95HY9b9g7wWqgdLAvHSPr6bavC7rfNU_fd-NxjBJxtbQ39A74wwm_DwBTrBHgYqqkJwfVrQNlbNoXF7A/s3264/IMG_6083.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLFGnbysSn5PMomEsG9DFuZwyAa87xYsf0ExT_uzNs5MyghHnpIiOrCsfgEe-op1a_EzY-OqHG4xla_T9by0Cl_zsSBlZALDlxUw8QcVgbtp95HY9b9g7wWqgdLAvHSPr6bavC7rfNU_fd-NxjBJxtbQ39A74wwm_DwBTrBHgYqqkJwfVrQNlbNoXF7A/s320/IMG_6083.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>Officially the National Forest Way ends at the car park down the hill, but this was what I had been aiming for: standing in the sunshine on the ancient rocks of Beacon Hill, with the world spread out below me.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpxH955XKX5IWgPhhUPkZO4DeLZ7VVUzDujdoEAsYDqsqSa0bmwEVcRei7gv5_5rBh8p35eaLJst3jI9Ur6celkV3l-JlyMDlwiB4jFTXJ68HJllb3wbnJ823Xz4vmez1kvsECcv9vmiSIjHvZhlOz-ztdmTmjKIBi6lVJrAj6tKaaN_BFntosQBrV9-k/s2592/IMG_20240115_105527504.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1952" data-original-width="2592" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpxH955XKX5IWgPhhUPkZO4DeLZ7VVUzDujdoEAsYDqsqSa0bmwEVcRei7gv5_5rBh8p35eaLJst3jI9Ur6celkV3l-JlyMDlwiB4jFTXJ68HJllb3wbnJ823Xz4vmez1kvsECcv9vmiSIjHvZhlOz-ztdmTmjKIBi6lVJrAj6tKaaN_BFntosQBrV9-k/s320/IMG_20240115_105527504.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>The car park was quite a disappointment, anyway. No glowing banner to proclaim, "The walk ends here". Not even one of the regular information signs about the NFW. Oh well. </p><p>It did have a cafe, at least, so I treated myself to a latte and an Eccles cake, and warmed up nicely. I had to squeeze on to the end of a bench next to some other ladies, as the place was crowded. "I told you not to say it would be quiet," one waitress said to the other.</p><p>I crossed the road and walked past the remains of Woodhouse Eaves windmill. It burned down in 1945, but the stone base still stands, with a more recent viewing platform built on top. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht3MnJGoHDQVyU7_IJ78KFzVJp2qHjmh6CZjpgFD59_e9QGHU9MyIMYkUNjBZgBTGpbUhaAnbaWTlwBwmCtllHp3VK0g221wsu3Y_jr2U7KiVYyCmf_Lnm07guB361UZoIog1oBiMD3w4OrksGi-0GMWoJzE4mwMRn9Ca57vqIzmEeDtvkTcOE0cJH0ds/s3264/IMG_6088.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht3MnJGoHDQVyU7_IJ78KFzVJp2qHjmh6CZjpgFD59_e9QGHU9MyIMYkUNjBZgBTGpbUhaAnbaWTlwBwmCtllHp3VK0g221wsu3Y_jr2U7KiVYyCmf_Lnm07guB361UZoIog1oBiMD3w4OrksGi-0GMWoJzE4mwMRn9Ca57vqIzmEeDtvkTcOE0cJH0ds/s320/IMG_6088.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>My return route took me along the Leicestershire Round and across Lingdale Golf Course. There were quite a few golfers out. I could see one man getting ready to hit a ball, so I waited until it was safely launched and landed before I scurried across the fairway.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrPww3p-xoWISWX5pzzNpTfLEvTCd8KX_hDViEz9oXZ6AWMQncviXD-_azQ2VhSavIwanAKfD1S4fWhvd7-WF7yl7UgCqirOr-Oe1yPKPQH4G7e8aE2PsNPfLaN_eB87mlH2daXTzn2i79ReU8FL5rgXFuv6S7IRzHhcgin56nZxGnTZgeaE6_CZVNFq4/s3264/IMG_6091.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrPww3p-xoWISWX5pzzNpTfLEvTCd8KX_hDViEz9oXZ6AWMQncviXD-_azQ2VhSavIwanAKfD1S4fWhvd7-WF7yl7UgCqirOr-Oe1yPKPQH4G7e8aE2PsNPfLaN_eB87mlH2daXTzn2i79ReU8FL5rgXFuv6S7IRzHhcgin56nZxGnTZgeaE6_CZVNFq4/s320/IMG_6091.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbxkgWLBwC5rYFI5AfZZG2zA-vMK6L8yZZN0Vat760bh3R8ae7WMaaeS_zr6U9-VQuUaBe5OW193j16hMjvIrBq1n-8yj6agcuixWRJzwlpNMYvi6p-sxLhYRBNISWWpw9YC0aCv0g2b5aY61napW_IC_G0ObOLi4puVwx236IoAuuRuaWu0XM9gm9hUM/s3264/IMG_6092.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbxkgWLBwC5rYFI5AfZZG2zA-vMK6L8yZZN0Vat760bh3R8ae7WMaaeS_zr6U9-VQuUaBe5OW193j16hMjvIrBq1n-8yj6agcuixWRJzwlpNMYvi6p-sxLhYRBNISWWpw9YC0aCv0g2b5aY61napW_IC_G0ObOLi4puVwx236IoAuuRuaWu0XM9gm9hUM/s320/IMG_6092.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>The ground was much drier than it was two weeks ago, and mostly frozen. I'd forgotten how nice it was not to be wading through muddy swamps. It seemed no time until I was back at the entrance to Bradgate Park. There was a handy picnic bench for lunch just inside the gate. After that it was a short walk through the brown fronds of dead bracken, back to the car.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfncQDR_pNxgQY4elQzr9wEexqBzeca16t14MGIl4CA5nVMxwiMIcmX3IhEz_0gvePsd1oFmuztpT04HzLS37x7aP0l8RLLPatwzQNlqBUQmwetvfXXzw5vW_375g8rKUkBLB2xVunxr4VcPGaasOj6sFeJWEIZadUN3LcZvxR-03bn3FQ2VT4U4g9n_o/s3264/IMG_6094.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfncQDR_pNxgQY4elQzr9wEexqBzeca16t14MGIl4CA5nVMxwiMIcmX3IhEz_0gvePsd1oFmuztpT04HzLS37x7aP0l8RLLPatwzQNlqBUQmwetvfXXzw5vW_375g8rKUkBLB2xVunxr4VcPGaasOj6sFeJWEIZadUN3LcZvxR-03bn3FQ2VT4U4g9n_o/s320/IMG_6094.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL-b5G0eKXHoFLn5qWAOtARvIHCmSl65oIF6LYiNpRTrMfYSJrxTEYsqv_YXyYl7i52qe6mYYGLaaN3qsMeBNcsp3fm7iILWy1MpfsuDqRwAxk1I8EwxFXQok7zvMqIJBh45-KEw17extI-Zx1r9ApEIbD7vAOxQXsJaGHuC5qcJPIuLC8iLL7AfKbOaU/s3264/IMG_6095.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL-b5G0eKXHoFLn5qWAOtARvIHCmSl65oIF6LYiNpRTrMfYSJrxTEYsqv_YXyYl7i52qe6mYYGLaaN3qsMeBNcsp3fm7iILWy1MpfsuDqRwAxk1I8EwxFXQok7zvMqIJBh45-KEw17extI-Zx1r9ApEIbD7vAOxQXsJaGHuC5qcJPIuLC8iLL7AfKbOaU/s320/IMG_6095.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>13.7 km / 8.5 miles</p><p>Previous sections:</p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2024/01/national-forest-way-bradgate-park.html">Bradgate Park </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/12/national-forest-way-ratby-and.html">Ratby and Martinshaw Wood</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/12/national-forest-way-bagworth-and.html">Bagworth and Thornton Reservoir</a> <br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/11/national-forest-way-ellistown-bagworth.html">Ellistown, Bagworth, Nailstone </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/10/national-forest-way-normanton-le-heath.html">Normanton le Heath - Ellistown</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/10/national-forest-way-ashby-to-normanton.html">Ashby - Normanton le Heath </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/09/national-forest-way-calke-abbey-to.html">Calke Abbey - Ashby de la Zouch </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/08/national-forest-way-hartshorne-foremark.html">Hartshorne, Foremark, Calke Abbey </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/07/national-forest-way-overseal-to.html">Overseal - Hartshorne</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/07/national-forest-way-rosliston-to.html">Rosliston - Overseal</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/05/national-forest-way-rangemore-to.html">Rangemore - Rosliston</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/04/walking-national-forest-way-with-two.html">National Memorial Arboretum - Rangemore</a></p><p></p>Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-49531355432383978412024-01-03T03:30:00.003-06:002024-01-03T03:30:58.053-06:00National Forest Way: Bradgate Park<p>I'd been anxiously scanning the weather forecast, and the morning of New Year's Day was due to be sunny. "Right," I said, "Family trip to Bradgate Park. You can drop me off at Groby Pool."</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUTUG8YuwdVD2o1x9TlfX3FnLAZOI6j4S1g6cbHASvz0lhuQuq6D73f4dQDa0osG9-gM_OZ-oLpiya5UDMH7EVLw-0LX64qxgD8kWikBiwSGuTzOV-hl8fpg2IZBwlCipYPlQ8jDyDN-s6jF9U7Sxl2ccORXuNHjymb2QGKc5r5zOHmn3f_e2LOw4ssbY/s3155/IMG_6043.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2366" data-original-width="3155" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUTUG8YuwdVD2o1x9TlfX3FnLAZOI6j4S1g6cbHASvz0lhuQuq6D73f4dQDa0osG9-gM_OZ-oLpiya5UDMH7EVLw-0LX64qxgD8kWikBiwSGuTzOV-hl8fpg2IZBwlCipYPlQ8jDyDN-s6jF9U7Sxl2ccORXuNHjymb2QGKc5r5zOHmn3f_e2LOw4ssbY/s320/IMG_6043.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Groby Pool<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><br /><iframe height="480" src="https://www.google.com/maps/d/embed?mid=1cOGXo9xJpbQn02gZG3DulmsKhVHTdrg&ehbc=2E312F&noprof=1" width="640"></iframe></p><p>So far, so good. Groby Pool was very pretty in the morning sunlight. I headed south to cross the A50. Fortunately there was very little traffic, as there wasn't a proper crossing at this point, and it would normally be a busy dual carriageway.</p><p>I worked my way through an estate of neat bungalows in Groby. One had a garden full of frogs!</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiASXn835vj4U8Y5-wnl_-IDQXw2HfXpwUFS0LvjQvvKMPOp4DHGigFpwTSpJ9vYCSlFAcF70UcJbuWICk4GWdYF1NuqjnlJifbHnFjswWih7XKT03DTvAVeLsghnaV0XYiW0ht_kx3hciZ70iaQv0jBFieyDkrILEN79w-mxBRCtRhm6i9rlqgx3L2X6s/s3264/IMG_6045.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiASXn835vj4U8Y5-wnl_-IDQXw2HfXpwUFS0LvjQvvKMPOp4DHGigFpwTSpJ9vYCSlFAcF70UcJbuWICk4GWdYF1NuqjnlJifbHnFjswWih7XKT03DTvAVeLsghnaV0XYiW0ht_kx3hciZ70iaQv0jBFieyDkrILEN79w-mxBRCtRhm6i9rlqgx3L2X6s/s320/IMG_6045.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>At the end of Woodland Lane I found the path from Martinshaw Wood, and I was back on the National Forest Way. This took me back down to the A50 (there was a pedestrian crossing here, but I didn't need it).</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhePODpeJyoGs2yiMcuQ-8sO6hWVRKowOqD6eiNKng6DutC8-AjzQ-ySlIi_pLF0ILGGbk944tbws4JdqAr2DbgA3FAPtswypayGoGAoe9G6R5K1sJkd0ROIjLQjRDibhMa8VRrATTIpUZ3SZRfaoW3z4e-KM1F07Y0wfarebJbBTLxbBHZVVGu__93Ljw/s3264/IMG_6046.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhePODpeJyoGs2yiMcuQ-8sO6hWVRKowOqD6eiNKng6DutC8-AjzQ-ySlIi_pLF0ILGGbk944tbws4JdqAr2DbgA3FAPtswypayGoGAoe9G6R5K1sJkd0ROIjLQjRDibhMa8VRrATTIpUZ3SZRfaoW3z4e-KM1F07Y0wfarebJbBTLxbBHZVVGu__93Ljw/s320/IMG_6046.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">joining the NFW<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>A track took me into the pleasant Lady Hay Wood. There was still a lot of water around. At this rate I feel like I'm going to be walking in wellies until June! We have had so much rain this winter.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTMSvOFUhY1y_ntzK65eC9qtvxgfM3XCq1UX7V4Kro601gkAjcq7JqsvMu2CFf82U7gewWSuLOrv84Wy3kuZ4cUx585MiYEBZEC7zAuMJrzDpPmSYjVWber1yFkpPe24_viKZ4G_g8gYAf7CdWuc303lZthb_WgKB2DRUmS3tMIqUJRAj05zFXwHZiZmQ/s3264/IMG_6048.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTMSvOFUhY1y_ntzK65eC9qtvxgfM3XCq1UX7V4Kro601gkAjcq7JqsvMu2CFf82U7gewWSuLOrv84Wy3kuZ4cUx585MiYEBZEC7zAuMJrzDpPmSYjVWber1yFkpPe24_viKZ4G_g8gYAf7CdWuc303lZthb_WgKB2DRUmS3tMIqUJRAj05zFXwHZiZmQ/s320/IMG_6048.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBnwY_yWzMRNenYGLdQ5yl6Mzwilafibr4dyWxf8Sw8ke5stYJNDDaEmYP704XCgih4jexzUtF5CfNpVkrNguUsgrYLoICgHJYoS-zi8Vo2j3Ipf8FAqYGa0D10FFQzGGfayuUwklJtbMlJ0_SeDuj1DqAJ1AcU571acnyog4iGBsVzWLxJLj7xlA_C60/s3264/IMG_6049.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBnwY_yWzMRNenYGLdQ5yl6Mzwilafibr4dyWxf8Sw8ke5stYJNDDaEmYP704XCgih4jexzUtF5CfNpVkrNguUsgrYLoICgHJYoS-zi8Vo2j3Ipf8FAqYGa0D10FFQzGGfayuUwklJtbMlJ0_SeDuj1DqAJ1AcU571acnyog4iGBsVzWLxJLj7xlA_C60/s320/IMG_6049.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Apart from the mud, the going was easy and the paths were all clear. Quite a few other people were enjoying this first day of the new year.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFzFcRR9PYndCyWKY8FcwaxdW5NAch9dHYm_HDQ3NeLcSpAdzJ05Oq9Hq2VT-JQBWNAyqDbAzxa-ramNR2u4SS77vFZEewkvHWyNvJxIkf-xmymXdLm57JL9o47hy3yAlPgJ8adq6oZGwuEW524zR0aJJrIE9RXhBTWcea6-ucLPHV0zI4w57temeh01g/s3264/IMG_6050.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFzFcRR9PYndCyWKY8FcwaxdW5NAch9dHYm_HDQ3NeLcSpAdzJ05Oq9Hq2VT-JQBWNAyqDbAzxa-ramNR2u4SS77vFZEewkvHWyNvJxIkf-xmymXdLm57JL9o47hy3yAlPgJ8adq6oZGwuEW524zR0aJJrIE9RXhBTWcea6-ucLPHV0zI4w57temeh01g/s320/IMG_6050.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinbnEqTkfOBPbQVqfLQ3sgLlvqm6s_GelSwPXNVw23ZSgAvhdblCOW8aAgKIRVcxQT2OcWUDMafqd-umZCVpSJE1oTNW0o-TiDN2hht0Dw7Vev-W1ErqpueuxOjVAaEF4zJn680NnVFxEpU5qcu_YR6X8IT550YA0wUJTWC3gY9pflcARZjKgGHqxsEn0/s3264/IMG_6055.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinbnEqTkfOBPbQVqfLQ3sgLlvqm6s_GelSwPXNVw23ZSgAvhdblCOW8aAgKIRVcxQT2OcWUDMafqd-umZCVpSJE1oTNW0o-TiDN2hht0Dw7Vev-W1ErqpueuxOjVAaEF4zJn680NnVFxEpU5qcu_YR6X8IT550YA0wUJTWC3gY9pflcARZjKgGHqxsEn0/s320/IMG_6055.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">view across to Bradgate Park<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>Then I got to Newtown Linford. It was packed. The main Bradgate Park car park was full, and cars were queuing and hooting on the road. I dodged through the traffic and on to the main path in Bradgate Park. A complete contrast to my previous walks, where I'd hardly seen another person. There were kids on bikes, kids in pushchairs, kids on scooters. Couples walking hand in hand, family groups chatting, parents persuading reluctant teenagers.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY2xeZMHbnuLM3QDfafuwC0siUwrDsI-aYUWEJDfHf4EBFyUXU55aXjj3slmemAz4kYivxx5rq90IdyPwQBgeWx3b8sklPcrqr7xWEIpY0xI0bBHT7HZSt4Rq1fatgrkGUNO5cVhD_aiLmvl46dqtgT5ELpsczjQnSMJywHeoacibDtedMgIF84L9WKy8/s3264/IMG_6056.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY2xeZMHbnuLM3QDfafuwC0siUwrDsI-aYUWEJDfHf4EBFyUXU55aXjj3slmemAz4kYivxx5rq90IdyPwQBgeWx3b8sklPcrqr7xWEIpY0xI0bBHT7HZSt4Rq1fatgrkGUNO5cVhD_aiLmvl46dqtgT5ELpsczjQnSMJywHeoacibDtedMgIF84L9WKy8/s320/IMG_6056.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Newtown Linford church<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj8HdLnU6Sbg_wGWGhgoTeTTFCqWd-nrCRCLPtYF6LkEjeEB9SyKLIZ7QWuqorjV5Dgt5CdOFALbmtMB9Yap-UKy9aKW-PkiszEZQ0PeaMx7cEtS0kYwxFnfIyKedxPCfIfYPKWQJR355M6tSjBSMbZC4nELsNBgCn0j2Mmzqf_cYF-sZFyvoId96y_L4/s3264/IMG_6057.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj8HdLnU6Sbg_wGWGhgoTeTTFCqWd-nrCRCLPtYF6LkEjeEB9SyKLIZ7QWuqorjV5Dgt5CdOFALbmtMB9Yap-UKy9aKW-PkiszEZQ0PeaMx7cEtS0kYwxFnfIyKedxPCfIfYPKWQJR355M6tSjBSMbZC4nELsNBgCn0j2Mmzqf_cYF-sZFyvoId96y_L4/s320/IMG_6057.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">main path at Bradgate<br /></td></tr></tbody></table> <p></p><p>Weaving through the throng, I passed the ruins of Bradgate House, where the NFW (and Leicestershire Round) turned left to go up to Old John Tower. I continued on to the visitor centre, though, to meet Graham, Toby and Theo.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ffuCrou4-nAxFQnTm304bqOgHo7cIE-TTx0tIwuTrAEIMN-sox-JWeYuJupx0qJ49VWdB_sI0jRz2cy6H3IErsYIxcdVHQwA20k2i0gZLqhPtYDs4Ze-TN0ReN6UAZ1En2lj_T6-cOolEiUe_I953CU6Ea7d-o8IZ-NiK5FVAPvhnBC0TR6ohvUx_5g/s3264/IMG_6061.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ffuCrou4-nAxFQnTm304bqOgHo7cIE-TTx0tIwuTrAEIMN-sox-JWeYuJupx0qJ49VWdB_sI0jRz2cy6H3IErsYIxcdVHQwA20k2i0gZLqhPtYDs4Ze-TN0ReN6UAZ1En2lj_T6-cOolEiUe_I953CU6Ea7d-o8IZ-NiK5FVAPvhnBC0TR6ohvUx_5g/s320/IMG_6061.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>"Did you manage to park in the main car park?" I asked. </p><p>"Don't talk to me about parking!" said Graham. </p><p>They'd spent an hour trying to find somewhere to leave the car, and eventually stopped on a muddy verge at the other end of the park. Oh dear. I knew Bradgate Park would be busy, but I hadn't realised it would be quite this bad.</p><p>Still, we were all together now, and we set off for the walk up to Old John Tower. Ahead of us, two vapour trails formed a large X in the blue sky.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Ag78PsNFONstkCdlFkK9h-5j4EAH2kh5p3QcdCWkcDsbdqcN368zQd8pbASCb_kMtclkWfxygQZxO8fk9wAXzsJtQzGVSZoQahyphenhyphenelqWRn1D952BXYXvjrF1tbWDdOxRU4tA32YyJzEDyp0LzJgSjvY7wpPiTLy3j-qKwxBSI5ZdcGuvzZ2BXrdhrodg/s3264/IMG_6064.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Ag78PsNFONstkCdlFkK9h-5j4EAH2kh5p3QcdCWkcDsbdqcN368zQd8pbASCb_kMtclkWfxygQZxO8fk9wAXzsJtQzGVSZoQahyphenhyphenelqWRn1D952BXYXvjrF1tbWDdOxRU4tA32YyJzEDyp0LzJgSjvY7wpPiTLy3j-qKwxBSI5ZdcGuvzZ2BXrdhrodg/s320/IMG_6064.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivbKm4pA-ruC6FxwrswEaiw0lpTjLMoH9iQAhssUTcoVk3JjvEwTKI1pn8iHi0jpp8P5DoqvwftscT4xMFjNCvnjqOJTG8vKnyAuk51vbu5FTFlhWrwtrpWw-auKFv4amYk1ss4kDRT5GBPy2OSCLpQ-CaSH7UhPjKSRJm-UFLS70N2An89F2QUX_nam4/s3264/IMG_6065.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivbKm4pA-ruC6FxwrswEaiw0lpTjLMoH9iQAhssUTcoVk3JjvEwTKI1pn8iHi0jpp8P5DoqvwftscT4xMFjNCvnjqOJTG8vKnyAuk51vbu5FTFlhWrwtrpWw-auKFv4amYk1ss4kDRT5GBPy2OSCLpQ-CaSH7UhPjKSRJm-UFLS70N2An89F2QUX_nam4/s320/IMG_6065.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old John Tower ahead<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>At the tower, we stopped for a bite of lunch and to admire the view. It was clouding over now, but still impressive.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8N9WoqPUhDdNc1jQXpc7GxSs9teI5_L_6ggGjqJ371l8bFxHkKFBfNIl2RM2T282iKsiRYmnQmZVyNR8vFg-QDnFaf3PDMwvA1GUC8xXrzcv1CSUm34sHR2-WvKaIo48y-x4XwtjdSrgWAPGwxUYYtJ9oR_lbIR1VHqAfXjjy4N3_Va46W8XAM8P8Qmc/s3264/IMG_6066.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8N9WoqPUhDdNc1jQXpc7GxSs9teI5_L_6ggGjqJ371l8bFxHkKFBfNIl2RM2T282iKsiRYmnQmZVyNR8vFg-QDnFaf3PDMwvA1GUC8xXrzcv1CSUm34sHR2-WvKaIo48y-x4XwtjdSrgWAPGwxUYYtJ9oR_lbIR1VHqAfXjjy4N3_Va46W8XAM8P8Qmc/s320/IMG_6066.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnsA5CgtNDBnIyB7HCMt3tDqjLMHYp1zNPfIxziXGoPNVWlBkolHE-Ly1JHURTMlnO-eisTZoyha22kVQtFSoSGBLu2mBIHnncbtZ_3UCAdj_PXpl5HA8YoO4v3YJ1EC81WexnpYi-Kny3SifLPvU1YTvJu1G4zHNhHP0fEOQNPOqJyfK_9i63bcSlgeY/s3264/IMG_6067.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnsA5CgtNDBnIyB7HCMt3tDqjLMHYp1zNPfIxziXGoPNVWlBkolHE-Ly1JHURTMlnO-eisTZoyha22kVQtFSoSGBLu2mBIHnncbtZ_3UCAdj_PXpl5HA8YoO4v3YJ1EC81WexnpYi-Kny3SifLPvU1YTvJu1G4zHNhHP0fEOQNPOqJyfK_9i63bcSlgeY/s320/IMG_6067.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>We dropped down the other side of the hill to the Hunts Hill entrance to Bradgate Park. At this point I'd been expecting to turn left and follow the public footpath along the western edge of the park, back to Newton Linford. But our car was in the opposite direction. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4-9Bb0aSF2sKs91gHhrpDgNJiNn18JOAwryLdCE_UO228Vm-YzWBVwTgkSt7X6r82mwyCUcQ8QmWfadmDuccwe-xMzLdW0kjrPCnFNE1nT9JrINIyjh9Iz48_iJNFNdutm5jIyGbxBdkcrZ_E176xRaGyQGQDi-QN4Nt0jXgnIksm4v1hRFTrFMk6v8c/s3264/IMG_6068.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4-9Bb0aSF2sKs91gHhrpDgNJiNn18JOAwryLdCE_UO228Vm-YzWBVwTgkSt7X6r82mwyCUcQ8QmWfadmDuccwe-xMzLdW0kjrPCnFNE1nT9JrINIyjh9Iz48_iJNFNdutm5jIyGbxBdkcrZ_E176xRaGyQGQDi-QN4Nt0jXgnIksm4v1hRFTrFMk6v8c/s320/IMG_6068.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />So we continued along the NFW, on a footpath just outside the north boundary of the park. It started off well, but then turned into a stream. The boys only had shoes on; they got rather wet. When we got to a track leading out to the road, we took that, and left the National Forest Way at the point where it entered Swithland Wood.<p></p><p>From there we followed the road back to the car. Fortunately it came off the muddy verge more easily than it had gone on. And I'd completed the second-to-last section of the NFW - one more walk to go!</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhokKoQBg537I3pCC4EdJiXGb-URvmwE5RB2Cfzsn0C4s90n1Ez3kznDYKFgIPujDWj9pZKAeSQP8S26kTp4IQwxGINqDxWY-49WmcMH-pCGhstvyV2QNJTx7cJHrHCWoReDZJvvi3nf2CApVWiz3pqC47x5O4OPZjF7V-NNp4ky6t_wKSkFkPL9rz94mQ/s3264/IMG_6052.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhokKoQBg537I3pCC4EdJiXGb-URvmwE5RB2Cfzsn0C4s90n1Ez3kznDYKFgIPujDWj9pZKAeSQP8S26kTp4IQwxGINqDxWY-49WmcMH-pCGhstvyV2QNJTx7cJHrHCWoReDZJvvi3nf2CApVWiz3pqC47x5O4OPZjF7V-NNp4ky6t_wKSkFkPL9rz94mQ/s320/IMG_6052.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>11.7 km / 7.3 miles<br /></p><p>Previous sections:</p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/12/national-forest-way-ratby-and.html">Ratby and Martinshaw Wood</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/12/national-forest-way-bagworth-and.html">Bagworth and Thornton Reservoir</a> <br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/11/national-forest-way-ellistown-bagworth.html">Ellistown, Bagworth, Nailstone </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/10/national-forest-way-normanton-le-heath.html">Normanton le Heath - Ellistown</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/10/national-forest-way-ashby-to-normanton.html">Ashby - Normanton le Heath </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/09/national-forest-way-calke-abbey-to.html">Calke Abbey - Ashby de la Zouch </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/08/national-forest-way-hartshorne-foremark.html">Hartshorne, Foremark, Calke Abbey </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/07/national-forest-way-overseal-to.html">Overseal - Hartshorne</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/07/national-forest-way-rosliston-to.html">Rosliston - Overseal</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/05/national-forest-way-rangemore-to.html">Rangemore - Rosliston</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/04/walking-national-forest-way-with-two.html">National Memorial Arboretum - Rangemore</a></p><p></p>Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-55740997270091636472023-12-30T06:22:00.002-06:002024-01-03T03:42:28.457-06:00Merry Christmas! 2023<p>Merry Christmas to you all! Didn't it feel as if everyone put their Christmas lights up really early this year? We put our tree up on 3rd December, and felt quite behind the times. Still, that was the day it snowed, so at least it was seasonal. After that it poured with rain for the rest of December.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiICsQeN-RB6H52ldQS7mRqSzQHfiYrIY29cyHi-sQ_SyFKyciOY_YOSEO02cpkb0WsVWRZNnJZeYe4RYDoPQlNv28dWa9vYiKTI9jq9mMO3B1zhxE7GLEKdMvP2CsXmAzU9toJ0I972ftjSESdOgxfLVgJQYY1h2oUIyWeRCuCqqz4d-M8IIUhLvXLN64/s2048/IMG-20231230-WA0007.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiICsQeN-RB6H52ldQS7mRqSzQHfiYrIY29cyHi-sQ_SyFKyciOY_YOSEO02cpkb0WsVWRZNnJZeYe4RYDoPQlNv28dWa9vYiKTI9jq9mMO3B1zhxE7GLEKdMvP2CsXmAzU9toJ0I972ftjSESdOgxfLVgJQYY1h2oUIyWeRCuCqqz4d-M8IIUhLvXLN64/s320/IMG-20231230-WA0007.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>As if to compensate for the early Christmas lights, the school term insisted on running up to the 22nd. The boys were barely staggering in for the final weeks. I had a very busy last week at cafe (record takings!) so I was pleased to reach the end, too.</p><p>Plus, I'd rashly booked in new carpet to be fitted on the 21st. That meant taking up the old stair carpet and the one in Toby's room, painting all the skirting boards, and clearing out Toby's furniture. Then replacing it all in time for Graham's mum to occupy the spare room the next day. It'll be fine, I said.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihxfi98KQu8MWyKTzWlP40MG0OMU8JeGlDYBpBRJooulf6WKPKlbq4i7vEDspKTPwNHxq1P-9_Nyl3bUVaAR61DQsHPgPoJb3sHUgNEnngMUM-Fod8BubmaEKlFAEw7AbLQyuuAK5oAdtG4YKi2TMR7GLqqK-tgcChgQ2RTa94GPZrkPZEJ8cqvbrzMbQ/s3264/IMG_20231211_114735762.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihxfi98KQu8MWyKTzWlP40MG0OMU8JeGlDYBpBRJooulf6WKPKlbq4i7vEDspKTPwNHxq1P-9_Nyl3bUVaAR61DQsHPgPoJb3sHUgNEnngMUM-Fod8BubmaEKlFAEw7AbLQyuuAK5oAdtG4YKi2TMR7GLqqK-tgcChgQ2RTa94GPZrkPZEJ8cqvbrzMbQ/s320/IMG_20231211_114735762.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCb4hdTDsj_XazjiZFi_I0vFLaNrBD0ROKZJ3YldNbN7nXAJhM1IcCU2UquX4fMITYjZ6wo3L9U0PqZBRxENgeeFN2-AXuPIo17M6TUa8balEG1xxQ6xKJ3UPiC17LStWSsrQ8BHnXvfrhlX9vab8xtnkYr_Xo0jbvC6HoMtgh35TaAihKAmzfuTv62sE/s3264/IMG_20231217_122959591.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCb4hdTDsj_XazjiZFi_I0vFLaNrBD0ROKZJ3YldNbN7nXAJhM1IcCU2UquX4fMITYjZ6wo3L9U0PqZBRxENgeeFN2-AXuPIo17M6TUa8balEG1xxQ6xKJ3UPiC17LStWSsrQ8BHnXvfrhlX9vab8xtnkYr_Xo0jbvC6HoMtgh35TaAihKAmzfuTv62sE/s320/IMG_20231217_122959591.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">out with the old...<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>Well, it was. With grateful thanks to Graham's friends Rich and Simon, who came over on Wednesday evening and helped us pull up carpet and move a bed, and to my parents, who came over on Thursday and helped trim the doors and put Toby's room back together. And the new carpet looks lovely.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs7mv-fJBp4ob1DPkaYj7tK6V-VxPD05lSFAnVg7sOFbpq4KYrbUoeWgXP_xWcSBaPZFt14U53qtT7bwpuCxDMY7Umz5SpSRMhvrKmtt80Aqva830-XwXB0balgf4zqM3hmZ_5u2R84CZc1c3Qo9w6-zyNcdM2OtWoctTqPAJyLyZJ4Ijw_Papqo8tiww/s3264/IMG_6040.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs7mv-fJBp4ob1DPkaYj7tK6V-VxPD05lSFAnVg7sOFbpq4KYrbUoeWgXP_xWcSBaPZFt14U53qtT7bwpuCxDMY7Umz5SpSRMhvrKmtt80Aqva830-XwXB0balgf4zqM3hmZ_5u2R84CZc1c3Qo9w6-zyNcdM2OtWoctTqPAJyLyZJ4Ijw_Papqo8tiww/s320/IMG_6040.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPD1qpO-8jEQWGc_OcRHEOQAr_m0sPbrpScZNd9G6RzsFgC18hY_IJJdWOPNqQftbHcKajJ7kehvFP2_DhU7VSFbLdL2v0BQ8I8eEKo0bzUfW6Oepzur6WhsgmRvYIKyQ63jtvMimgvd6BCI2pHKa9mF8r981EduFB0e3UVbS0PZQZskXouIqmdBBj6S8/s3264/IMG_6041.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPD1qpO-8jEQWGc_OcRHEOQAr_m0sPbrpScZNd9G6RzsFgC18hY_IJJdWOPNqQftbHcKajJ7kehvFP2_DhU7VSFbLdL2v0BQ8I8eEKo0bzUfW6Oepzur6WhsgmRvYIKyQ63jtvMimgvd6BCI2pHKa9mF8r981EduFB0e3UVbS0PZQZskXouIqmdBBj6S8/s320/IMG_6041.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and in with the new!<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>We fitted in our usual traditions: the Illuminations at Lichfield Cathedral, and the Christingle service at Findern church. Graham sang in the choir for the carol service at our church. I pushed small children in roughly the right direction at the nativity service. There was a mix-up with the angels, and a last-minute panic about the innkeeper, but Herod put on an excellent show of evil plotting.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6tqC1wJdYOtffUVXU2xnRvv24dSDB4RS3i25LAFxUBLkGzfTrWlILaEAkDnZU9Vw9kdbqwwrMiyXWrvZtfmqyCfA_j1nlQgueJgwkw6j883eSJIpJanMZoeVY2jNKnLIDICAMKAd38hqM0chpAzNWAXzQMTfaR5IucTO9qOpbqYaqfmHfY6Yl6zmwJus/s2048/IMG-20231230-WA0000.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6tqC1wJdYOtffUVXU2xnRvv24dSDB4RS3i25LAFxUBLkGzfTrWlILaEAkDnZU9Vw9kdbqwwrMiyXWrvZtfmqyCfA_j1nlQgueJgwkw6j883eSJIpJanMZoeVY2jNKnLIDICAMKAd38hqM0chpAzNWAXzQMTfaR5IucTO9qOpbqYaqfmHfY6Yl6zmwJus/s320/IMG-20231230-WA0000.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">with Graham's mum at Lichfield Cathedral<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>I made a Christmas cake, of course. I loved this pudding design I found - very simple and effective.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhR5ojA4r5QiFnHjGo8myFtwHropYZXZiK-XnV19l8FuqUdbVicc1yry2TcjP-_JUegXIceZ_VXoO__iSfAfymiFY2atS0K29GLMBHlwCm_TaSCKcokW8bQ-eZNOt3i2DMAerK8LUDgQ8outlWkFvJhx2TgAI-g651cv3hlacZYOm8JJB6OeQK0drRR5M/s3264/IMG_6037.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhR5ojA4r5QiFnHjGo8myFtwHropYZXZiK-XnV19l8FuqUdbVicc1yry2TcjP-_JUegXIceZ_VXoO__iSfAfymiFY2atS0K29GLMBHlwCm_TaSCKcokW8bQ-eZNOt3i2DMAerK8LUDgQ8outlWkFvJhx2TgAI-g651cv3hlacZYOm8JJB6OeQK0drRR5M/s320/IMG_6037.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Christmas Day felt like lots of cooking, but in a relaxed kind of way. Breakfast was cinnamon Christmas bun, inspired by this <a href="https://www.waitrose.com/ecom/recipe/sticky-cardamom-christmas-bun">Waitrose recipe</a>. Definitely one to remember! Vegetable soup for lunch, and the full turkey dinner later on. Graham's mum was here for several days, and my parents came over for Christmas day, so we had seven of us round the table.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYGkWNSVz9Q6pwqgKH9i4Vjaok30nH6ZQQ7XYrU_SKt7ufIkRTL75Mm5OcsCe56pe0kBZR-QOKdk7gpqUto3hRXxOiEltRVtFo6GZlfFOMAXSb6UAqXDZzZRc-fnsCWkZfJFCLE46t-L-iYDw7kxsJztrdMj2Abn3p5lJVLBQuYHr0bHaLzz49ryIhBJs/s3264/IMG_20231225_075709857.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYGkWNSVz9Q6pwqgKH9i4Vjaok30nH6ZQQ7XYrU_SKt7ufIkRTL75Mm5OcsCe56pe0kBZR-QOKdk7gpqUto3hRXxOiEltRVtFo6GZlfFOMAXSb6UAqXDZzZRc-fnsCWkZfJFCLE46t-L-iYDw7kxsJztrdMj2Abn3p5lJVLBQuYHr0bHaLzz49ryIhBJs/s320/IMG_20231225_075709857.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas breakfast table<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>Toby and Theo voted this one of the best Christmases for gifts. This was partly because they both got a phone. But also new clothes, Lego sets, Amazon vouchers, and much more. We spread out the present opening over the day, at their request, and they were very appreciative of everything they got.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZAmXwlESpt3hUXUjU4WPAUBMN8vAxxHa4MHWM8ALwT2Pvsh-RjMxDrAA_AweR-cayxnYBlEwHjL0n3vYULA6MU7gP1BXDDSWOReJTbx7IWUHvHFzC6Rtcvj1i6oAR4Z8AhmoZtzg5UtUrxjdZePzShtc2fMwvxcWnxzU1G0XGvc5eXKTyO2-Nu4RFVn4/s2596/IMG_6042.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="2596" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZAmXwlESpt3hUXUjU4WPAUBMN8vAxxHa4MHWM8ALwT2Pvsh-RjMxDrAA_AweR-cayxnYBlEwHjL0n3vYULA6MU7gP1BXDDSWOReJTbx7IWUHvHFzC6Rtcvj1i6oAR4Z8AhmoZtzg5UtUrxjdZePzShtc2fMwvxcWnxzU1G0XGvc5eXKTyO2-Nu4RFVn4/s320/IMG_6042.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>And so were we. After a difficult year, and with so many people around the world still struggling, it was a blessing to have a safe, healthy, friends-and-family-filled Christmas time. And a good rest.</p><p><i>The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.</i></p><p><i></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwQJWuebA3wR2bbIc1LinS39DVooPhc-yw83EvbI21xMPoKbQucdDjwdN05RXwU_d-ZWDdsrIWo_cEcZz0tE5BJeXLpB7NSfo3BoGOHx6Fe-iGjqy3S7THxXrkCzuVqyb2dX_4QEDj1zcyNsqjqqfG3DcVXAFL6IrEFgcieXBwtTMBMApVLKAURZTqpcs/s2048/IMG-20231230-WA0003.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwQJWuebA3wR2bbIc1LinS39DVooPhc-yw83EvbI21xMPoKbQucdDjwdN05RXwU_d-ZWDdsrIWo_cEcZz0tE5BJeXLpB7NSfo3BoGOHx6Fe-iGjqy3S7THxXrkCzuVqyb2dX_4QEDj1zcyNsqjqqfG3DcVXAFL6IrEFgcieXBwtTMBMApVLKAURZTqpcs/s320/IMG-20231230-WA0003.jpg" width="240" /></a></i></div><i><br /></i><br /><p></p>Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-73062303053942533402023-12-24T02:52:00.003-06:002024-01-03T02:23:37.528-06:00National Forest Way: Ratby and Martinshaw WoodThis was a walk of quiet woods and a busy motorway. The sky was gray and it felt as if the natural world had packed up and settled down for the winter.<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsai4s5licBglMJddAby5_aNr5yxok0nodhgpNaH5lUQ68nXVYvBg7vGaRXhpantqU3V-7p7RDYiRj1VZ26owRHmSr8koEr0h-4_UDfy2nfMBJeSIE1ybvo1j4Bxh_wKcxO-6_WAalWh_sm5TyObum1BC5bIVg-7UYAsZGnjF7-NnKHYMlEoPTcZHqYH4/s3264/IMG_6007.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsai4s5licBglMJddAby5_aNr5yxok0nodhgpNaH5lUQ68nXVYvBg7vGaRXhpantqU3V-7p7RDYiRj1VZ26owRHmSr8koEr0h-4_UDfy2nfMBJeSIE1ybvo1j4Bxh_wKcxO-6_WAalWh_sm5TyObum1BC5bIVg-7UYAsZGnjF7-NnKHYMlEoPTcZHqYH4/s320/IMG_6007.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div><div><iframe height="480" src="https://www.google.com/maps/d/embed?mid=1S03xUX4goYtTjpZI_DRu2aCkfsZrPU8&ehbc=2E312F&noprof=1" width="640"></iframe></div><div> </div><div>I parked at the small Martinshaw Woods car park, on the outskirts of Ratby. Crossing the road to a housing estate, the first thing I saw was an old hearse, decorated with skull bunting and a black cat! "My sense of humour might hurt your feelings," said the sign.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjidv2CQCh0uc-n_9omymdm8gA1bIH2xY-uz6WqqG9FmY6HSOUyh25YAcDb-lmfsMBWDRf-PX2umLg4vIjSMb5fJSakG7xzUFgKHn5RCouwRFMglvxNCzyrp2YsRWuhmmv46YVWtADIMLEpw2mpvWAHIoU9HpwkfqMEuWhq1XPGb2NzWg4FrjSLb_761x0/s3264/IMG_5998.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjidv2CQCh0uc-n_9omymdm8gA1bIH2xY-uz6WqqG9FmY6HSOUyh25YAcDb-lmfsMBWDRf-PX2umLg4vIjSMb5fJSakG7xzUFgKHn5RCouwRFMglvxNCzyrp2YsRWuhmmv46YVWtADIMLEpw2mpvWAHIoU9HpwkfqMEuWhq1XPGb2NzWg4FrjSLb_761x0/s320/IMG_5998.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>The footpath I was heading for had a nice sign saying The Stattie. It took me between a pub and a playing field. Then I crossed a lane and went past some young cows in a field, and into a small wood.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmJIqsw8tQ7j2KU9F0Flmx6szfhZacMBy-U68i5m54CzfIknoKh-eS9SD9MkW5c2lD5M_18_w89VYhA4p0ZyluZUHMRyHgmJp6cmD42M_-4X0XqknKjHFH5GQNn_wHgtIZoXM1hw0ncsOWHEEALd_axju_w0S2LAWJ8d3hfyjQbK4SYgw6VW3VH7T0nuQ/s3264/IMG_6000.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmJIqsw8tQ7j2KU9F0Flmx6szfhZacMBy-U68i5m54CzfIknoKh-eS9SD9MkW5c2lD5M_18_w89VYhA4p0ZyluZUHMRyHgmJp6cmD42M_-4X0XqknKjHFH5GQNn_wHgtIZoXM1hw0ncsOWHEEALd_axju_w0S2LAWJ8d3hfyjQbK4SYgw6VW3VH7T0nuQ/s320/IMG_6000.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /> </div><div>On the other side was a track that led to Holy Well Farm. The holy well is now a pond; apparently the water was good for the <a href="https://insearchofholywellsandhealingsprings.com/source-first-series-contents/the-holy-wells-of-leicestershire-and-rutland/">treatment of scorbutic diseases</a>. Yes, I did have to Google that! Scorbutic means related to scurvy. Now you know.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix8YSSvuy0fWaL4xIoj08XRFXd6v1hUJDqCGW6rPpKdPxaOFp83cRBm5V4-HGk0yezmRDTPYzAy_jhiiANduHwmXZ9ZcGbzoVcp-6kuFluxepXY2iohmQD9yupeyVbHJ6CRzNg2oqOKlJz_M2IW4a7yU-gyIy2PbCzBWkQ4iVUoAp3BnnymCw4HrKEDTM/s3264/IMG_6003.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix8YSSvuy0fWaL4xIoj08XRFXd6v1hUJDqCGW6rPpKdPxaOFp83cRBm5V4-HGk0yezmRDTPYzAy_jhiiANduHwmXZ9ZcGbzoVcp-6kuFluxepXY2iohmQD9yupeyVbHJ6CRzNg2oqOKlJz_M2IW4a7yU-gyIy2PbCzBWkQ4iVUoAp3BnnymCw4HrKEDTM/s320/IMG_6003.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Holy Well farm and pond</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>After the farm, the bridleway continued through woodland for quite some time. I stopped to listen. A bird sang, briefly. The only other noise was the steady drip of water from the trees.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLqfwKGTb1vsujfZ-lmn2aAvDP47IiyG8c27ki35GFDklSzguoU_WvBPxw03MvE6OEVngJSa1-u4A6k2NZ4jDGFIA2KTPwN-RJiUy8zYC04iGSEN0MeNM1kuXOs0r6YVmVwtEDHoPrxsJl4o45Hup34S3LcMHlEl0z2nGfYdcBo3tj6V53Aic85bCTVjM/s3264/IMG_6006.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLqfwKGTb1vsujfZ-lmn2aAvDP47IiyG8c27ki35GFDklSzguoU_WvBPxw03MvE6OEVngJSa1-u4A6k2NZ4jDGFIA2KTPwN-RJiUy8zYC04iGSEN0MeNM1kuXOs0r6YVmVwtEDHoPrxsJl4o45Hup34S3LcMHlEl0z2nGfYdcBo3tj6V53Aic85bCTVjM/s320/IMG_6006.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div>Finally I reached some tarmac - a cycle route. I crossed a golf course and eventually reached the point where I'd finished the NFW last time.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigzhdR-GtazHhHh2bmYhAB5sgVjz58XsNkSrr7RknOwNUFJASbV4Vp_sAllGKMlkQXfgE2fxvwqxtFVGbR7t6qzXjVbpNHVAdGYxBjA1vNv4BKEJVAsOcRZLrFdXb8NJpwhQYxUNTLnyuhPDWHvz3cVvKyBX7tsIUiXDOg9b966bJ0Qff_A93IWhLOfSU/s3264/IMG_6009.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigzhdR-GtazHhHh2bmYhAB5sgVjz58XsNkSrr7RknOwNUFJASbV4Vp_sAllGKMlkQXfgE2fxvwqxtFVGbR7t6qzXjVbpNHVAdGYxBjA1vNv4BKEJVAsOcRZLrFdXb8NJpwhQYxUNTLnyuhPDWHvz3cVvKyBX7tsIUiXDOg9b966bJ0Qff_A93IWhLOfSU/s320/IMG_6009.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">golf course with bulrushes</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>I'd rashly worn walking boots instead of wellies for this walk. Up until now it had been fine - some mud, but easy to skirt around. Now my troubles really started. The path was narrow, with thick mud across it and prickly bushes lining each edge. I developed my acrobatic skills as I hopped from side to side, trying to avoid the worst mud without getting impaled on thorns. Gradually the path turned into a stream, which met another stream. This feature was presumably meant to be a footbridge, but was more like a weir.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnv6hWLAlPkMlYwQRYTBvVFLUGhBNX8ef-3NUZ9TMbD0FEzUDnFBMuR58q4pfAs3atzEyjBoEm03e_qVASgHvaWcz1OCzRtOsQ4M2KvKJFNuqvKBK52uU9qWe7ZRphlgDGxy1LUruwfTPW7jUhEtv4lYdwVcu1dVUuNamhhdprXLcyHLwB1FR2W6avTmI/s3264/IMG_6012.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnv6hWLAlPkMlYwQRYTBvVFLUGhBNX8ef-3NUZ9TMbD0FEzUDnFBMuR58q4pfAs3atzEyjBoEm03e_qVASgHvaWcz1OCzRtOsQ4M2KvKJFNuqvKBK52uU9qWe7ZRphlgDGxy1LUruwfTPW7jUhEtv4lYdwVcu1dVUuNamhhdprXLcyHLwB1FR2W6avTmI/s320/IMG_6012.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVCdJ6dA5nqWr5tlCg-Jaf0YT-tm6Iplx6vxze1NujxmhhKbHHUe4IYYG43yx0YhOJFIJMi_h1FtqFFVYwh_humHRWi92H-78MxgXYKynm0dhJDvrkcdL2gCK-FjYwUm39qUbhXjOzmdC4-9TBHirPHSXpRbh9cjHeRhOtxVd2xwkenHFH5dHJZ2-il0M/s3264/IMG_6013.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVCdJ6dA5nqWr5tlCg-Jaf0YT-tm6Iplx6vxze1NujxmhhKbHHUe4IYYG43yx0YhOJFIJMi_h1FtqFFVYwh_humHRWi92H-78MxgXYKynm0dhJDvrkcdL2gCK-FjYwUm39qUbhXjOzmdC4-9TBHirPHSXpRbh9cjHeRhOtxVd2xwkenHFH5dHJZ2-il0M/s320/IMG_6013.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">bridge?</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixVYHvE3lv4ZXNEgQVPJWIGKRWLOuteMkzDg-vwZ1ZsPV0XeLSDwWEeYSec2gN40yVeLBnvxxjkdlPbPKskhmz3Tz9rlZvbcBlBecc5_QTotZLeR_zo9oNMVr7ruNtwVwr8QsFhHjLB6fUZyPUmWx9jXouF8kBKoQmK5EAHOQUjlNq7al5ACwYM8Fa5IA/s3264/IMG_6016.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixVYHvE3lv4ZXNEgQVPJWIGKRWLOuteMkzDg-vwZ1ZsPV0XeLSDwWEeYSec2gN40yVeLBnvxxjkdlPbPKskhmz3Tz9rlZvbcBlBecc5_QTotZLeR_zo9oNMVr7ruNtwVwr8QsFhHjLB6fUZyPUmWx9jXouF8kBKoQmK5EAHOQUjlNq7al5ACwYM8Fa5IA/s320/IMG_6016.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">lunchtime!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>The farmhouse of Old Hayes provided me with an information board and a welcome bench for lunch. The path continued through Burroughs Wood, which contained a holy (holey) tree and a kind of small shrine. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjTkl57RiprtCFM_YG0rkcxb5NKbBgOPGODLzHusSByiJL6Duso90HBI0JePRbAn-jULCTDetXrrDMBkIO3qKvBblHY0jThJrBVmiy4Xhn8gAdLW-ilAtsEMB33QBK2VP7K9JMcKqtFuznDUp4sjL8xK5He4t9R1FIYpI1FKyUJ7irHq1JwTCAk_hErck/s3264/IMG_6018.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjTkl57RiprtCFM_YG0rkcxb5NKbBgOPGODLzHusSByiJL6Duso90HBI0JePRbAn-jULCTDetXrrDMBkIO3qKvBblHY0jThJrBVmiy4Xhn8gAdLW-ilAtsEMB33QBK2VP7K9JMcKqtFuznDUp4sjL8xK5He4t9R1FIYpI1FKyUJ7irHq1JwTCAk_hErck/s320/IMG_6018.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ8mPpBpA5CcdGR8xj56HdFLjOgmUysa6D0hO-xOnJbDIrFCz9UXu0UYwIm4XeGaIsy8itJqbvzjgChHPGooEiGsDCosWxl0y3yBwN6Wl4HxgAODHFPd99CNOHQ8YCfd3QV0JniR9RpsHB5CFy_UbTKcYziDOxqkALS1JdV-2pl2X_AwAeohNvj6YsbWc/s3264/IMG_6019.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ8mPpBpA5CcdGR8xj56HdFLjOgmUysa6D0hO-xOnJbDIrFCz9UXu0UYwIm4XeGaIsy8itJqbvzjgChHPGooEiGsDCosWxl0y3yBwN6Wl4HxgAODHFPd99CNOHQ8YCfd3QV0JniR9RpsHB5CFy_UbTKcYziDOxqkALS1JdV-2pl2X_AwAeohNvj6YsbWc/s320/IMG_6019.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div>I was sure the instructions for this section of walk had mentioned surfaced paths. But there hadn't been much sign of them so far! Fortunately that was about to change. Once I reached the Burroughs Wood car park, I was back on the cycle path again, and the going was much easier. The gravel track led me all the way back to Martinshaw Wood. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKQQDta-OQs_i7do4KrdR8eASybFVYq1rHRY4ATfcWDoWg7otxaV4KUkPTuauCp0WrQ3wRPaFE_eUtsHauEoW1QyWrPZqCE8F-RyWExfovyR4dyqMq-dVXAIisnUki4t1fCc5z0stvrG_-ECAzeYBHn1JynkVQ3Fk_r5AizIAoryeWvMmrra9jbQ2LHww/s3264/IMG_6023.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKQQDta-OQs_i7do4KrdR8eASybFVYq1rHRY4ATfcWDoWg7otxaV4KUkPTuauCp0WrQ3wRPaFE_eUtsHauEoW1QyWrPZqCE8F-RyWExfovyR4dyqMq-dVXAIisnUki4t1fCc5z0stvrG_-ECAzeYBHn1JynkVQ3Fk_r5AizIAoryeWvMmrra9jbQ2LHww/s320/IMG_6023.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div>The steady swish of the motorway got louder and louder as I passed my car again, and crossed the bridge over the M1. Martinshaw Wood dates back to at least the 13th century, but got cut in half by the M1 in the 20th century. I certainly hope someone kicked up a fuss about that; but I guess it didn't make much difference.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9e8r_7PrPR3A7n-D56isL7yhBlvujTx2kjy29RyTaS5HI1JU3iFoRIE96e8rlmEgSg-m0bWzMCtanQalYLjHF9zRc8jKZBFGDk0aEwnE5jnVsDCvMCUEulcMDKdVieJIsM2y_hGO59QNoof76fmgJQiM_GjyABDO2EYnXvYoO9aT9mZPpmvzQLCZriTQ/s3264/IMG_6025.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9e8r_7PrPR3A7n-D56isL7yhBlvujTx2kjy29RyTaS5HI1JU3iFoRIE96e8rlmEgSg-m0bWzMCtanQalYLjHF9zRc8jKZBFGDk0aEwnE5jnVsDCvMCUEulcMDKdVieJIsM2y_hGO59QNoof76fmgJQiM_GjyABDO2EYnXvYoO9aT9mZPpmvzQLCZriTQ/s320/IMG_6025.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div>Over in the other half of Martinshaw Wood, the path I should have taken was flooded, but there was an easy and obvious detour. I followed a long straight track - Porter's Ride, I discovered at the end - to the far edge of the wood.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY0ailwgDR4ueA6u6DAMYgygUggAx_GFuPVHPrIvAh-lJaRUo5JFUjiv6dNI4YnGnB_733apRx6Wv8Z6uM3rqYeD7UScGUwPX71B_q0eA5cUJCfMVNUrmh1u8JjGK-dv9YwA_K1VSTa0pibUuRW-2JcdaN_9kC8GTF1GF7lXD1vWDx3H9wU4D3qvpdq_Y/s3264/IMG_6027.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY0ailwgDR4ueA6u6DAMYgygUggAx_GFuPVHPrIvAh-lJaRUo5JFUjiv6dNI4YnGnB_733apRx6Wv8Z6uM3rqYeD7UScGUwPX71B_q0eA5cUJCfMVNUrmh1u8JjGK-dv9YwA_K1VSTa0pibUuRW-2JcdaN_9kC8GTF1GF7lXD1vWDx3H9wU4D3qvpdq_Y/s320/IMG_6027.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">flooding</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_PGd0yFLLJvRDtxhgwseO1kHm0em9tGuCu3fYwzVObnhoihK0MLjfNjapqfllvc7b-J8GUFR3GHaFTDrUtoN6WcYdSzVfo-4W0JnchAAXDDNHY3Bm_GVHgGXBnUXQCzkHPNasMNeLaoJpHaNYAMiYUPFpW9FF6LLnw6Q2Qq33lVnqrHF_T0ttV-KGsiA/s3264/IMG_6029.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_PGd0yFLLJvRDtxhgwseO1kHm0em9tGuCu3fYwzVObnhoihK0MLjfNjapqfllvc7b-J8GUFR3GHaFTDrUtoN6WcYdSzVfo-4W0JnchAAXDDNHY3Bm_GVHgGXBnUXQCzkHPNasMNeLaoJpHaNYAMiYUPFpW9FF6LLnw6Q2Qq33lVnqrHF_T0ttV-KGsiA/s320/IMG_6029.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0MCaLxpmpuQjPG2E9bvAjPz9zjZf9YHmQcLiqNaHjSR3mFrMPZd3IVAyJvMC6pRvNojwEKaCns9AMTugWZ-BZkb2tDYzKbVnFxrTVHvMpk7cUED3oG2kc77QGPh-52TiHb1dLzwj3y8UBM127sGavuoFfp9HS951ko7F5he-5TyG972j9uvrD15mCkCo/s3264/IMG_6030.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0MCaLxpmpuQjPG2E9bvAjPz9zjZf9YHmQcLiqNaHjSR3mFrMPZd3IVAyJvMC6pRvNojwEKaCns9AMTugWZ-BZkb2tDYzKbVnFxrTVHvMpk7cUED3oG2kc77QGPh-52TiHb1dLzwj3y8UBM127sGavuoFfp9HS951ko7F5he-5TyG972j9uvrD15mCkCo/s320/IMG_6030.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div>A bench with a plaque on it caught my eye. I moved over to read it, expecting it to be the usual memorial to a loved one. Instead, it had been sponsored by Pets at Home, "to celebrate the joy pets bring."</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTBAv2BkF4Z8TCyWhwnbi7YGzNED7nnlQ2OVSm1kAKrowVL8SPFqZFz-3rThCAB21Mf79W3DEThMaIP_9RMnJUYuCypiwzGyxbJUIBbibS6aqiZaldKmNpcDCKD-0ZtBplmsmEg9rVLFJB4TQpn4bIosNMNwM4WOMZT_ANr3GDhHWgZ1JIpt4N4UQYLEU/s3264/IMG_6033.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTBAv2BkF4Z8TCyWhwnbi7YGzNED7nnlQ2OVSm1kAKrowVL8SPFqZFz-3rThCAB21Mf79W3DEThMaIP_9RMnJUYuCypiwzGyxbJUIBbibS6aqiZaldKmNpcDCKD-0ZtBplmsmEg9rVLFJB4TQpn4bIosNMNwM4WOMZT_ANr3GDhHWgZ1JIpt4N4UQYLEU/s320/IMG_6033.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>The kissing gate into the housing estate was my finishing point for the day. A public footpath took me on a loop past a school and back to the bridge over the motorway. From there it was a short hop to the car park.</div></div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg591RElLw-iE2zKTUXQXBqyKkMhQucQA6MCCrjt7ckyRXAARPH88055zpmw833VN3igOCdkfh7HTVnUlR-YWjV0uqk6fzerSXMkNJBOaTNp9UXybSdH0zrnnjgV8Y0fjNRHLVsuV8qqXFndSt-R_2xZD_d7ZdMNccaxd23_Fu6wLsLNgZl_2VJX1DSNX0/s3264/IMG_6031.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg591RElLw-iE2zKTUXQXBqyKkMhQucQA6MCCrjt7ckyRXAARPH88055zpmw833VN3igOCdkfh7HTVnUlR-YWjV0uqk6fzerSXMkNJBOaTNp9UXybSdH0zrnnjgV8Y0fjNRHLVsuV8qqXFndSt-R_2xZD_d7ZdMNccaxd23_Fu6wLsLNgZl_2VJX1DSNX0/s320/IMG_6031.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmRxMdhHW_W93HDAtb7TkFw9gZ0yXJsr0orJ36zOCTSt3aEmX82iqHnnxKNAKQdiXhyphenhyphenpaSJF4S3cDkR0pbisyGT_Qklkd-D9bPru_NS_fh77x-qFNAwT0v0yzSzsmlXKdsbsEDaXg9QtdISKC-iuGbe2idEnQzTnHp9LLKheodWhMzn6s3Z0v_VrR419g/s3264/IMG_6035.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmRxMdhHW_W93HDAtb7TkFw9gZ0yXJsr0orJ36zOCTSt3aEmX82iqHnnxKNAKQdiXhyphenhyphenpaSJF4S3cDkR0pbisyGT_Qklkd-D9bPru_NS_fh77x-qFNAwT0v0yzSzsmlXKdsbsEDaXg9QtdISKC-iuGbe2idEnQzTnHp9LLKheodWhMzn6s3Z0v_VrR419g/s320/IMG_6035.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><p>11 km / 6.8 miles</p><p>Previous sections:</p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/12/national-forest-way-bagworth-and.html">Bagworth and Thornton Reservoir</a> <br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/11/national-forest-way-ellistown-bagworth.html">Ellistown, Bagworth, Nailstone </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/10/national-forest-way-normanton-le-heath.html">Normanton le Heath - Ellistown</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/10/national-forest-way-ashby-to-normanton.html">Ashby - Normanton le Heath </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/09/national-forest-way-calke-abbey-to.html">Calke Abbey - Ashby de la Zouch </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/08/national-forest-way-hartshorne-foremark.html">Hartshorne, Foremark, Calke Abbey </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/07/national-forest-way-overseal-to.html">Overseal - Hartshorne</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/07/national-forest-way-rosliston-to.html">Rosliston - Overseal</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/05/national-forest-way-rangemore-to.html">Rangemore - Rosliston</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/04/walking-national-forest-way-with-two.html">National Memorial Arboretum - Rangemore</a></p></div>Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-17559094593724579012023-12-10T10:36:00.001-06:002023-12-10T10:36:18.912-06:00National Forest Way: Bagworth and Thornton Reservoir<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ_LoyP0e_QO8N-OYMmAHB1q-Upjd21AF37pHRUAsXRTBfYFHfAw7y8iVgXQ-r_91OwlP3B8TTRZotEwebqiYBYclkxginLkLhKdUplERy2VjeY7Jy-Ugy5s5zOfnVhyphenhyphenViLEWGIB-f9PSPYnmjR0_jP9oVDslF_J-OCLzJCyO8iFu7sXLURbUE8Ec6kg0/s3264/IMG_5829.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ_LoyP0e_QO8N-OYMmAHB1q-Upjd21AF37pHRUAsXRTBfYFHfAw7y8iVgXQ-r_91OwlP3B8TTRZotEwebqiYBYclkxginLkLhKdUplERy2VjeY7Jy-Ugy5s5zOfnVhyphenhyphenViLEWGIB-f9PSPYnmjR0_jP9oVDslF_J-OCLzJCyO8iFu7sXLURbUE8Ec6kg0/s320/IMG_5829.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I'd hoped to be further along with my walking by now, but a combination of illness, bad weather, and inset days meant that I couldn't get out for a few weeks. At the first sign of a break in the clouds, I was ready to go.</p><p><iframe height="480" src="https://www.google.com/maps/d/embed?mid=1lTf-IHZ1-rSH7wkC6cPIotcqHqCnxmQ&ehbc=2E312F&noprof=1" width="640"></iframe></p><p>It had rained heavily the day before, and there was still a watery feel to the air. I parked at Thornton Reservoir and donned waterproof trousers and wellies, then started by following a footpath along the back of some houses in Thornton. The village is perched on a ridge, which slopes down to the reservoir on one side, and Bagworth Heath woods on the other.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipj_GLXl4Qj4u7TEXyC1qg_xqc-787zKBiLcjymyOG8abpFkGbuszTH-IIicjweGkrAeUs6Twl1JCAwbWSbGcw4Ln-p2yy6wRf18q25RQhr8oHEJN4BQXYHKWLBIXXsVRdukwd8mBDAm4pvSdxSNzUmVfLeIsWzDls-KbpMb-p92yymroaDWO5PqwGsh8/s3264/IMG_5806.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipj_GLXl4Qj4u7TEXyC1qg_xqc-787zKBiLcjymyOG8abpFkGbuszTH-IIicjweGkrAeUs6Twl1JCAwbWSbGcw4Ln-p2yy6wRf18q25RQhr8oHEJN4BQXYHKWLBIXXsVRdukwd8mBDAm4pvSdxSNzUmVfLeIsWzDls-KbpMb-p92yymroaDWO5PqwGsh8/s320/IMG_5806.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">view to Bagworth Heath woods<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>I picked up the Leicestershire Round opposite the village school, and followed it past an old mill, across a railway line, and through the woods. One section of the path was particularly squelchy.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWImITrdwUEj_SocFhvmuhXJLQoT8mLVN5kk-kPqK6F62kBEZ2ioYYZijquiCPN1K9ZpvVdZXgDn1RHdTxrLDVWo6tx2i_pSHmWq27SDY6KRd1ZrdlPD_QoZYEmYiBsVmGf_KJDk5aWggigcULB9BSpjl-llqQa3PuS7zyRt81WBOnKD_3coK6PhY_kX4/s3264/IMG_5810.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWImITrdwUEj_SocFhvmuhXJLQoT8mLVN5kk-kPqK6F62kBEZ2ioYYZijquiCPN1K9ZpvVdZXgDn1RHdTxrLDVWo6tx2i_pSHmWq27SDY6KRd1ZrdlPD_QoZYEmYiBsVmGf_KJDk5aWggigcULB9BSpjl-llqQa3PuS7zyRt81WBOnKD_3coK6PhY_kX4/s320/IMG_5810.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoUMQLokT2pfI-uDXSnBPrFObVM_lCLJ1V8GtIa8Di2WjiPXPwnGcMHAr5azHPibcZ3_hoeoEOqFDxFHdjgikuyLC04TfXjaN9XJIo7TWdAzDclzdV4ECQA85h8ixlDw5Jt-ApIAT8tirioAUQAB0U1pRt_MmZC4fb6cKJ7iGeiV0o8sh3dx6lJRg3szA/s3264/IMG_5812.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoUMQLokT2pfI-uDXSnBPrFObVM_lCLJ1V8GtIa8Di2WjiPXPwnGcMHAr5azHPibcZ3_hoeoEOqFDxFHdjgikuyLC04TfXjaN9XJIo7TWdAzDclzdV4ECQA85h8ixlDw5Jt-ApIAT8tirioAUQAB0U1pRt_MmZC4fb6cKJ7iGeiV0o8sh3dx6lJRg3szA/s320/IMG_5812.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>At the end of the woods, the footpath sign pointed right, which I assumed meant I should follow the road. It wasn't until afterwards that I realised I could have crossed over and taken a footpath on the other side. The road took me past a little building which apparently housed a funeral bier, for the use of the inhabitants of the village. I couldn't see inside, but presumably it looked something like <a href="https://www.thecarriagefoundation.org.uk/item/bier-piper">this</a>.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiab1zhI-uJ9YfciCKdVn4R-tQnIUOXMlo6VNrNRReUwlSDyeOG9zfgbHexQKrG0Nf6pz7koV4HuXjjfgH-BIS86jgwXCWseVKHCmLRXyTbOQdIvsCumCJ8jCL4ReoeoaKOqa2cgDDqriimiM1_gCRBrMtOpk1BoNsGuUnLbTRVdMHrDEgrAF-Y5B0Vros/s3264/IMG_5816.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiab1zhI-uJ9YfciCKdVn4R-tQnIUOXMlo6VNrNRReUwlSDyeOG9zfgbHexQKrG0Nf6pz7koV4HuXjjfgH-BIS86jgwXCWseVKHCmLRXyTbOQdIvsCumCJ8jCL4ReoeoaKOqa2cgDDqriimiM1_gCRBrMtOpk1BoNsGuUnLbTRVdMHrDEgrAF-Y5B0Vros/s320/IMG_5816.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Bier House<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>About this time I realised I'd left my phone on the satnav holder inside my car. I spent the rest of the walk in that weird Schrodinger's cat state, where you are equally convinced that it will be perfectly safe, and that someone will have smashed the car window and stolen it. No way to tell until I got back. I kept walking.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbo7EO6r-_oowW_sZo7XlvU_m8oAl3z6SCgpX5nJadZBLQU81M0i16hVV0CF3p_xKRp-9TApQBBLquUjdhyphenhyphen79H5s7vDl_wdRbbgza9G98VCYmholAC2imiJKF1AUfTlhg1uE_OK80imk_s88vGxFy8_v8gbsY9xhldseS2IeW1-205EP7GcynAbLggusE/s3264/IMG_5817.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbo7EO6r-_oowW_sZo7XlvU_m8oAl3z6SCgpX5nJadZBLQU81M0i16hVV0CF3p_xKRp-9TApQBBLquUjdhyphenhyphen79H5s7vDl_wdRbbgza9G98VCYmholAC2imiJKF1AUfTlhg1uE_OK80imk_s88vGxFy8_v8gbsY9xhldseS2IeW1-205EP7GcynAbLggusE/s320/IMG_5817.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">long straight road<br /></td></tr></tbody></table> <p></p><p>Bagworth has a long straight road which I had traversed on my previous trek. I was glad to reach the turn-off for the National Forest Way. A short lane took me to a bridge over the railway, and then along beside it. This line is the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leicester_and_Swannington_Railway">Leicestershire and Swannington Railway</a>, one of the earliest railways in England. The section at Bagworth originally had an inclined plane, where the loaded wagons, going down, pulled the empty wagons up the slope on a rope. Once locomotives became more powerful, the inclined plane was bypassed. The path on which I walked followed its route, but there's not much to see apart from the steady downhill gradient. The railway would have once been very busy with coal from the collieries. Today I didn't see a single train.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghXkXUfPPLk9icEuTn0fPog8zPBJw809sbeK0MGMX6qHq55UYTJJgECQiMrHlv6O101b3Ya1jj-Yc7vbMp27vB9VN9KodHVoISQl6Oq-ByYIAg1_r4gIR9rUlOijySTfzknZMvqHnnaLed4igpIABQDBr7aywF9Q2IneAqkPABEHKi54X-8cFY8RDZdIE/s3264/IMG_5818.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghXkXUfPPLk9icEuTn0fPog8zPBJw809sbeK0MGMX6qHq55UYTJJgECQiMrHlv6O101b3Ya1jj-Yc7vbMp27vB9VN9KodHVoISQl6Oq-ByYIAg1_r4gIR9rUlOijySTfzknZMvqHnnaLed4igpIABQDBr7aywF9Q2IneAqkPABEHKi54X-8cFY8RDZdIE/s320/IMG_5818.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir1EM69A0xa0UBmf2PjVxplRnIXvaVTawGeLbLnvQMpzCOCRedtcqiQhwC7gv3OFs-LWpvDkIYzTXrx1WiSr0QbuV4PZGge4vmSnqz1Bx-xN3op7IvotJwukPsXH65uHqJ1k3yCeGL-AOK83MdYPrxGX5zl6Hjrmt1lG0G4VYmcn44UDIVIjAIucxuVSE/s3264/IMG_5820.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir1EM69A0xa0UBmf2PjVxplRnIXvaVTawGeLbLnvQMpzCOCRedtcqiQhwC7gv3OFs-LWpvDkIYzTXrx1WiSr0QbuV4PZGge4vmSnqz1Bx-xN3op7IvotJwukPsXH65uHqJ1k3yCeGL-AOK83MdYPrxGX5zl6Hjrmt1lG0G4VYmcn44UDIVIjAIucxuVSE/s320/IMG_5820.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">site of the inclined plane<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>Veering away from the railway, I passed Bagworth Park (with strict Private signs), squelched and slid across a few fields, and came out on the road through Thornton again. This time when I got to the school, I turned the other way. Suddenly a beautiful view opened up in front of me. The green grass sloped down from my feet, and on the opposite hillside the sun lit up russet trees and golden fields.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOKMybUfguwYBZFicaVOKkX-ga1r9BaUShZwHixmu3rouTkiCxLvP43kYqPDiz5NiChYr_6bQmzgA_e8jf5CmxHCpG23fM52FGYSzmCyaT3NzO8jIsJcrfZprP-dCxV32tlGKAfj6-vFktuXEp1LhtRu8uBlziaLCWkOXS5JCjtRbrTtxfmeyhLLhJLvc/s3264/IMG_5823.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOKMybUfguwYBZFicaVOKkX-ga1r9BaUShZwHixmu3rouTkiCxLvP43kYqPDiz5NiChYr_6bQmzgA_e8jf5CmxHCpG23fM52FGYSzmCyaT3NzO8jIsJcrfZprP-dCxV32tlGKAfj6-vFktuXEp1LhtRu8uBlziaLCWkOXS5JCjtRbrTtxfmeyhLLhJLvc/s320/IMG_5823.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje6yTIDlktZSBg8aNSs8nE955_zUFjYIAXBakyBYEYkR0tSMtQhwHvfbUk-74moqR7-JNZd4YZRxa_hbMjROo5zeiS_sJyUqd9-raeplwfVmEmfBoOtMz3A2w53L6k-4gI-u2czxwpi2DTaH8rxetxXS7nAoeAxSBYEnt5ZCEYT-foCrFbz_ZmtVvtzY8/s3264/IMG_5825.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje6yTIDlktZSBg8aNSs8nE955_zUFjYIAXBakyBYEYkR0tSMtQhwHvfbUk-74moqR7-JNZd4YZRxa_hbMjROo5zeiS_sJyUqd9-raeplwfVmEmfBoOtMz3A2w53L6k-4gI-u2czxwpi2DTaH8rxetxXS7nAoeAxSBYEnt5ZCEYT-foCrFbz_ZmtVvtzY8/s320/IMG_5825.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thornton Reservoir<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />I walked down the hill and followed the path around Thornton Reservoir back to the car park. Phew. The car was unharmed and my phone was still safely inside it.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgelu-IUm7g0VIAFTRymB-Eq5JFH-HPCiBM7NMLrV2LFAOkKfRf6NN4qwCAlMJ-jORSTW4mmDvPutcQbU3NmPjNpmM4QWIBIlsGof4N1JxQbYLipoyWwFq7b6_dVx8c6WPAhRBkDZTdme06YoZ5x1KxU9s9TEYyHEzeoxQxeXFlDI2uHNqtgY-uLVLyIs8/s2592/IMG_20231205_130443906.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1952" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgelu-IUm7g0VIAFTRymB-Eq5JFH-HPCiBM7NMLrV2LFAOkKfRf6NN4qwCAlMJ-jORSTW4mmDvPutcQbU3NmPjNpmM4QWIBIlsGof4N1JxQbYLipoyWwFq7b6_dVx8c6WPAhRBkDZTdme06YoZ5x1KxU9s9TEYyHEzeoxQxeXFlDI2uHNqtgY-uLVLyIs8/s320/IMG_20231205_130443906.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Relieved, I perched on a bench to have a sandwich and take a selfie. It was too cold to sit for long, so I ate my apple while walking up the lane for the second half of my hike. </p><p>The NFW took me down a field to Rothley Brook. This is the outflow from the reservoir. It was flowing at a tremendous rate, and a small tree had been jammed against the footbridge, knocking the planks sideways. Even if I had crossed it, I could see that there was a stream of racing water blocking the path on the other side. Definitely not worth the risk.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcWroyebh2EEyVFqA-XGcScc8KzIe8fJRQpHh0zf052YCxTMWlU5YjOeqHQHpqXHRWnLFwIqvNTx7ZDYjWGt-Ik3n5SquCrgJg97AUEsxFYdFVc2L8Sd18PeZRT8WwrgnZbEb3lNP4Oer0BGF2VsUNB7ohnEU2bB1CZ7cjxBWTw-6etELPuxFeFejh8cs/s3264/IMG_5832.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcWroyebh2EEyVFqA-XGcScc8KzIe8fJRQpHh0zf052YCxTMWlU5YjOeqHQHpqXHRWnLFwIqvNTx7ZDYjWGt-Ik3n5SquCrgJg97AUEsxFYdFVc2L8Sd18PeZRT8WwrgnZbEb3lNP4Oer0BGF2VsUNB7ohnEU2bB1CZ7cjxBWTw-6etELPuxFeFejh8cs/s320/IMG_5832.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">maybe not....<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>So I cut across the field and made my way down to the next footbridge. Fortunately that one was in good order. On the other side I was met by sedate swans, curious llamas, and noisy guinea fowl!</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKKxO1p5V-rFdoYj6JgctdATWiSxas96JgKCxLT9SzN6zKkiSn6kOV0rWfIgg4mNfPPuEPjaBf8c6940UQxPNf8OStaHiojxghPwW1cbRhlQW0w65SyGgpzKzjBAPZWyTDuCaGzCcG2_2ihX-BlipoXbmpAsFS-T_hhRbnr11zy9_f7TXWZ5oDgTHDaV0/s3264/IMG_5834.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKKxO1p5V-rFdoYj6JgctdATWiSxas96JgKCxLT9SzN6zKkiSn6kOV0rWfIgg4mNfPPuEPjaBf8c6940UQxPNf8OStaHiojxghPwW1cbRhlQW0w65SyGgpzKzjBAPZWyTDuCaGzCcG2_2ihX-BlipoXbmpAsFS-T_hhRbnr11zy9_f7TXWZ5oDgTHDaV0/s320/IMG_5834.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">this looks better!<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEkUuybheo9z3d_Amntsaj4R4PH-NUcowx6weV7bCUxz5TU34z7oQ7a_19Ic4Mp52OfkiCHFJWmCjE9OZn8iThCyrwi5_V_mkCz_E2suELWiK8N3sKfGQ36MpihxRGIsMKwwyZyzVHoWAvfycx1FBOTEnRx0LCHSPLReRE5dJtKbCsIpQvrmLDUPDhicY/s3264/IMG_5836.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEkUuybheo9z3d_Amntsaj4R4PH-NUcowx6weV7bCUxz5TU34z7oQ7a_19Ic4Mp52OfkiCHFJWmCjE9OZn8iThCyrwi5_V_mkCz_E2suELWiK8N3sKfGQ36MpihxRGIsMKwwyZyzVHoWAvfycx1FBOTEnRx0LCHSPLReRE5dJtKbCsIpQvrmLDUPDhicY/s320/IMG_5836.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">llamas looking at me<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB0glv9b3jAoIA6Th8Rw1KJs8fdOYnh1JBbbslUXeGMzKMTCHsN1yF-OKyUJpWzAUth8COwPyE8o66GFXHswhaP6NSXKR3sXb7LNZP9BRddZXy0YivsZLr23DRC1JNUqqsTrohNibYZCyNg4a0zxRTg7xoa8iWc8GY6p8jQTUNh8UjGlVF1nJQtao7Ka0/s3264/IMG_5837.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB0glv9b3jAoIA6Th8Rw1KJs8fdOYnh1JBbbslUXeGMzKMTCHsN1yF-OKyUJpWzAUth8COwPyE8o66GFXHswhaP6NSXKR3sXb7LNZP9BRddZXy0YivsZLr23DRC1JNUqqsTrohNibYZCyNg4a0zxRTg7xoa8iWc8GY6p8jQTUNh8UjGlVF1nJQtao7Ka0/s320/IMG_5837.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">guinea fowl and geese<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>I rejoined the NFW and followed it for a short distance to my end point. From there, it was a quick and easy return to the car via the road across the reservoir dam.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvoSeLWKGdl84_9BQBh6H7DvVT4RQSPdgGaozCJKLlS9ziZpRAemNpY5iHG4dVdo15hWR0ZjQCe3W0SKVJNLNPMoD0B5hi-senxUmY7HStf9MZDxpbiwSeH6t57LEeJYQzwvb5aP3rNLilhLQAdeKl6vI7_r181CwRrlHRGR0vrRgWdxhnxYQkbCwe32E/s3264/IMG_5843.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvoSeLWKGdl84_9BQBh6H7DvVT4RQSPdgGaozCJKLlS9ziZpRAemNpY5iHG4dVdo15hWR0ZjQCe3W0SKVJNLNPMoD0B5hi-senxUmY7HStf9MZDxpbiwSeH6t57LEeJYQzwvb5aP3rNLilhLQAdeKl6vI7_r181CwRrlHRGR0vrRgWdxhnxYQkbCwe32E/s320/IMG_5843.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p>11.75 km / 7.25 miles</p><p>Previous sections:</p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/11/national-forest-way-ellistown-bagworth.html">Ellistown, Bagworth, Nailstone </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/10/national-forest-way-normanton-le-heath.html">Normanton le Heath - Ellistown</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/10/national-forest-way-ashby-to-normanton.html">Ashby - Normanton le Heath </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/09/national-forest-way-calke-abbey-to.html">Calke Abbey - Ashby de la Zouch </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/08/national-forest-way-hartshorne-foremark.html">Hartshorne, Foremark, Calke Abbey </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/07/national-forest-way-overseal-to.html">Overseal - Hartshorne</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/07/national-forest-way-rosliston-to.html">Rosliston - Overseal</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/05/national-forest-way-rangemore-to.html">Rangemore - Rosliston</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/04/walking-national-forest-way-with-two.html">National Memorial Arboretum - Rangemore</a></p><p></p>Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-87373572767120927402023-11-18T07:25:00.005-06:002023-11-18T07:25:47.661-06:00Three Mile an Hour God: Spiritual Formation Book 10<p>"The affirmed life must not become either a lazy life or a happy-ever-after, easy life. The affirmed life is not a life of the power of positive thinking. To be affirmed by God means to live with danger and promise."</p><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSsyBNeHyv7ktGFC-3HlEiWRvLmjW5sO4wScVOwK7u1Fq8rYFe6ZYmIDRHq5zjP_KTpwyJoXuGU4AxYv3xKQfAsXZZc6b3lLJt_gIXSQJMgfhGRWMmWEYRxx0P2xfbGfuz-lgn71aXbtvaKCR8IPr3W3vi170D4r5BictSDCFEjBqkgH-OTkCPXvgT-54/s2601/three%20mph%20god.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2601" data-original-width="1656" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSsyBNeHyv7ktGFC-3HlEiWRvLmjW5sO4wScVOwK7u1Fq8rYFe6ZYmIDRHq5zjP_KTpwyJoXuGU4AxYv3xKQfAsXZZc6b3lLJt_gIXSQJMgfhGRWMmWEYRxx0P2xfbGfuz-lgn71aXbtvaKCR8IPr3W3vi170D4r5BictSDCFEjBqkgH-OTkCPXvgT-54/s320/three%20mph%20god.jpg" width="204" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Kosuke Koyama's book <i>Three Mile an Hour God</i> was written out of the experience of the Second World War and its aftermath in Japan. As Koyama says in his preface, it is "a collection of biblical reflections by one who is seeking the source of healing from the wounds... inflicted by the destructive power of idolatry." The title speaks of a God who moves at walking pace - three miles an hour - and even, in Jesus, comes to a "full stop" - nailed to a cross. If we try to move faster than the love of God, says Koyama, we fall into idolatry.</p><h2 style="text-align: left;">What is the book about?</h2><p><i>Three Mile an Hour God </i>has 45 chapters, each a separate short reflection headed by a Bible verse. Some deal specifically with Japan, considering her role in WWII, the damage inflicted by the atomic bombs, and her recovery since the war (the book was written in 1979). Others consider the ambivalent nature of technology, the interaction of the church with the surrounding culture, and what it means to live well, to love well, and to use time well. Koyama thinks deeply and packs a lot of meaning into his short, punchy sentences.</p><h2 style="text-align: left;">What encouraged you?</h2><p>In chapter 9 Koyama relates an experience of standing in the mist in Wilmot Pass, in New Zealand, "in the silence of a primeval world." He felt his insignificance in space and time. Out of that he reflected on what makes us, tiny and ephemeral as we are, human. Thought and morality, which he calls thinking-well; and care for and responsibility to others, which he calls purity of heart. Both, he says, are only possible when in them people see God. </p><p>And then he writes this beautiful line: "Thinking-well and purity of heart meet in the point of 'seeing God'. Yet God remains unseen." I loved that. All our efforts of thinking and loving are directed towards seeing God - and yet we never quite get there. We do so much, and we find ourselves standing in a misty valley, realising again how small our life really is.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBP8HJ-u00aENUth6JgNYwI5j92Ly1hSYmjv1TRGGvaSZ2vorTb8MZGjaB-PVxblYOvdg3zk51bMn8XrLkDtpkJRsBZv9tj645O9nrloVtxqRCwbgFmHMmoOgTC8RF6yGkJceld5BwFabTpqvJuTsjR3qLKhJIUIOF6pUZdmpBoDdd_gH7PlFFf6rhiuQ/s1280/misty%20valley.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBP8HJ-u00aENUth6JgNYwI5j92Ly1hSYmjv1TRGGvaSZ2vorTb8MZGjaB-PVxblYOvdg3zk51bMn8XrLkDtpkJRsBZv9tj645O9nrloVtxqRCwbgFmHMmoOgTC8RF6yGkJceld5BwFabTpqvJuTsjR3qLKhJIUIOF6pUZdmpBoDdd_gH7PlFFf6rhiuQ/s320/misty%20valley.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/javiercalvoparapar-16812328/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=7715228">Javier Calvo Parapar</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com//?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=7715228">Pixabay</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><h2 style="text-align: left;">What challenged you?</h2><p>Chapter 5 is a meditation on the parable of the rich farmer, who grew so much grain that he decided to build bigger barns to store it all. But God said, "This night your soul is required of you..." </p><p>Koyama relates this parable to spiritual riches, linking it to the story of the Pharisee and the tax collector in the temple. The Pharisee thought his soul was in a pretty good place, and thanked God that he wasn't like that wretched tax collector. I could probably say the same as the rich farmer and the Pharisee: "Soul, you have ample goods laid up..." Or as Koyama puts it, "God is on your side, and in his name both your soul and stomach are safe!"</p><p>I see in myself some of that spiritual and material complacency. So the searching questions at the end of this chapter were a challenge to me. When do I love myself rightly? When do I love myself without incurring injury to myself and my neighbour? As he says, these are difficult questions to answer.</p><h2 style="text-align: left;">How has it changed how you see things?</h2><p>I really appreciated Koyama's thoughts on technology. Although written in the 1970s, they don't seem dated, as we have become ever more surrounded by computers. In chapter 10 he talks about the way that technology makes us see only the streamlined outside of things. "It covers up all the confusing parts," he says, "and presents to us only the attractive, simple side - shiny switches." In the same way, we present a streamlined version of ourselves to the world. This, of course, has only become more prevalent in the world of social media. But God asks us to look below the surface, to the confusing reality of ourselves and others.</p><p>And in the final chapter he talks about the relationship between technology and social justice. Technology can be used for good or evil, but if we don't establish justice and righteousness as a priority over technological advancement, then we will find that "technology brings desolation to mankind". "In the context of social injustice," Koyama says, "technology makes the rich ever richer and the poor ever poorer." We have got to the point where one can barely function in society without a mobile phone, and people find themselves locked into unaffordable monthly contracts. Meanwhile, mining for the raw materials for these phones causes health and environmental problems elsewhere. How do we practice justice and righteousness in this world?</p><h2 style="text-align: left;">What would you like to explore further?</h2><p>Francis Xavier is mentioned in <i>Three Mile an Hour God</i> several times. He was an evangelist to Indonesia, Japan and India in the 16th century. I know his name but that's about it. Koyama's comments made me think that I should find out more about him.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIc6503hyrBQ7WdDQ-P0PZ7u7kyf1J6a9IQDR1CPs29DaGqLcb9dGMMnoUoocq75E00v0tYWn6H-CASf9IhekpEli9RPMUQdlsk0Fgx1c4ZugWVpinhBgnLb7593rWrnYh-IYF6ZhVpz8VicoK4-o15AoVpA5_lAkStCDudqcBXILZZNa3NULwAMU_OCY/s2592/Statue_of_St._Francis_Xavier_at_St._Xavier's_School,_Kolkata_20_2b.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1726" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIc6503hyrBQ7WdDQ-P0PZ7u7kyf1J6a9IQDR1CPs29DaGqLcb9dGMMnoUoocq75E00v0tYWn6H-CASf9IhekpEli9RPMUQdlsk0Fgx1c4ZugWVpinhBgnLb7593rWrnYh-IYF6ZhVpz8VicoK4-o15AoVpA5_lAkStCDudqcBXILZZNa3NULwAMU_OCY/s320/Statue_of_St._Francis_Xavier_at_St._Xavier's_School,_Kolkata_20_2b.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By Rangan Datta Wiki - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0 </td></tr></tbody></table><br /> <p></p><h2 style="text-align: left;">What is one thing you will remember?</h2><p style="text-align: left;"> I picked out a number of excellent quotes as I was reading <i>Three Mile an Hour God</i>. I certainly hope I will remember some of them. I'll leave you with a closing selection.</p><p style="text-align: left;">"Theology is to do with the living continuous story of Jesus Christ and how in this life God revealed himself to us."</p><p style="text-align: left;">"Genuine resourcefulness comes from the experience of 'being carried by God' instead of 'carrying God'. This, however, is against our liking."</p><p style="text-align: left;">"I understand that 'to be human' means to live in two-way traffic and 'to be divine' means to give up one's right of way for the sake of the other."<br /></p>Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-41545710097172243642023-11-12T06:42:00.002-06:002023-12-09T11:30:49.054-06:00National Forest Way: Ellistown, Bagworth, Nailstone<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVn5qEhhWkSroewc8lele3YUtbe5dBegjHm76Amf5vzwe9cpgU1amEINMzmAtltENtV_Pg4ZOf1YERNpSgAXhyphenhypheny-b1F0U0CVrzuqTRBsQwpb6Qw0RRNunCkLUQoDZ2Sb2oEx4XM9Dxs-CTg-UmtLFu_uV79QnJkgK4VCWRhi-HzfkWU9gk3Xjkm_7q2Xo/s3264/IMG_5787.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVn5qEhhWkSroewc8lele3YUtbe5dBegjHm76Amf5vzwe9cpgU1amEINMzmAtltENtV_Pg4ZOf1YERNpSgAXhyphenhypheny-b1F0U0CVrzuqTRBsQwpb6Qw0RRNunCkLUQoDZ2Sb2oEx4XM9Dxs-CTg-UmtLFu_uV79QnJkgK4VCWRhi-HzfkWU9gk3Xjkm_7q2Xo/s320/IMG_5787.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>You may well say, "Where?" I'd never heard of any of these three villages before I planned to walk through them. Back in the 1970s, it would have been possible to travel between them underground. All three had collieries producing exceptional amounts of coal (Bagworth set a Guinness World Record). Nailstone and Bagworth collieries were connected in 1967, and Ellistown was merged with the other two in 1971. All the mines are long closed now. The railway lines have been taken up, the winding wheels turned into civic sculptures, and the pit sites transformed into country parks.</p><p><iframe height="480" src="https://www.google.com/maps/d/embed?mid=19PixwLW2fshZ99ltwflPP3PCN2_ozUk&ehbc=2E312F&noprof=1" width="640"></iframe></p><p>It was a beautiful sunny day, but we'd had a <i>lot </i>of rain recently. Within five minutes of leaving Ellistown, I was glad I'd worn my wellies.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi58JFVh3RBFnpifkuQHunf97g6bb1Oi9WKKIFNwsHe0OmOhhqNyHf5dV9kCQuA0SPE-nE69fPpZxIo3_ytIWggAEMzOQCUWtKSzQPuu4lHHVyuknNG1JCUncnodO3MI3MiO4SS-5wbSzRm4owYA_hGlLdKG_7-5PBTmh9BXaCFp83jJRBNIlyx8JfIq9I/s3264/IMG_5764.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi58JFVh3RBFnpifkuQHunf97g6bb1Oi9WKKIFNwsHe0OmOhhqNyHf5dV9kCQuA0SPE-nE69fPpZxIo3_ytIWggAEMzOQCUWtKSzQPuu4lHHVyuknNG1JCUncnodO3MI3MiO4SS-5wbSzRm4owYA_hGlLdKG_7-5PBTmh9BXaCFp83jJRBNIlyx8JfIq9I/s320/IMG_5764.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> <p></p><p>The way took me alongside a quarry site and then into a collection of woods: Common Hill Wood, Workmans Wood, Battram Wood. The colours of the trees in the November sunshine were beautiful. The path was a muddy mess.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6M1aCEZGDNDixI6pCP0upqRVzRNbpFTrBNYtLOdKwfzNs4PON63YEvEfvcVWDkqxIJnjS8grt2-20VZpyynS5dtv1cmZOCFQ9YvDQhepeQmas-FnYOVOkZCBevBNdRMdQIJfyz1aQZaYkBtczhUOqapb6k9mz2uxSlgG3Zk67MkfPHyvk45hu5llxJiY/s3264/IMG_5765.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6M1aCEZGDNDixI6pCP0upqRVzRNbpFTrBNYtLOdKwfzNs4PON63YEvEfvcVWDkqxIJnjS8grt2-20VZpyynS5dtv1cmZOCFQ9YvDQhepeQmas-FnYOVOkZCBevBNdRMdQIJfyz1aQZaYkBtczhUOqapb6k9mz2uxSlgG3Zk67MkfPHyvk45hu5llxJiY/s320/IMG_5765.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpxL7R9DVey8PZ4wYmRhxz3-xpFjcOf8EOFhm39iY0vNdQq9jPswLmvtc-XDfK3tmsfHTsEazzqO7cwAVwg3XRvsple_xSZyDnwZSWbyqmbjqntgBFRyaI2q_xK-EEioX6yfEwKzCXTOBR8pO5pjfVP5sks0HxpeWunb1EC2Jijjp-3O2bW9K3883zVHI/s3264/IMG_5766.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpxL7R9DVey8PZ4wYmRhxz3-xpFjcOf8EOFhm39iY0vNdQq9jPswLmvtc-XDfK3tmsfHTsEazzqO7cwAVwg3XRvsple_xSZyDnwZSWbyqmbjqntgBFRyaI2q_xK-EEioX6yfEwKzCXTOBR8pO5pjfVP5sks0HxpeWunb1EC2Jijjp-3O2bW9K3883zVHI/s320/IMG_5766.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXPYhGY1r-QhTC1XrrUaU9CCatWT23dJ6eN0xtkLYaCKMspQ2G22plD0TXJj4gnUo46hu5uHCSFYH5mkG7cPt1HIxRgMKKAW7z2qYJnWxseLa7q4PBvw9NA22SvO4t8rGJynTHVTrS7xpMxhbYyhWjdTgcHyhM_uYyRftT8O7QqO3J2vdWGJI4I1s0HKM/s3264/IMG_5767.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXPYhGY1r-QhTC1XrrUaU9CCatWT23dJ6eN0xtkLYaCKMspQ2G22plD0TXJj4gnUo46hu5uHCSFYH5mkG7cPt1HIxRgMKKAW7z2qYJnWxseLa7q4PBvw9NA22SvO4t8rGJynTHVTrS7xpMxhbYyhWjdTgcHyhM_uYyRftT8O7QqO3J2vdWGJI4I1s0HKM/s320/IMG_5767.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>At Battram village I crossed a newly landscaped section, where the recently installed gravel trails didn't quite match up with the footpaths on the NFW instructions. I didn't have too much trouble finding my way, but I wouldn't discover what this place was until later in the walk.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVQjv_0Oflqdci5OU1-_aoq0joVpX9dOomUc6kz5ROdKrUw50NjipbXN0nfiW0EcPVUX_SlFZPrf9KSeZ6EwNupomA18FRratSM9XlFWTeHpAA0xyxwgcb6SdyxgOhRfkfprpOfI8aox4abZMO1_cPZExL85Hs7OpbUfsT-bCKOWEbnbrhbnz3A8AMCso/s3264/IMG_5769.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVQjv_0Oflqdci5OU1-_aoq0joVpX9dOomUc6kz5ROdKrUw50NjipbXN0nfiW0EcPVUX_SlFZPrf9KSeZ6EwNupomA18FRratSM9XlFWTeHpAA0xyxwgcb6SdyxgOhRfkfprpOfI8aox4abZMO1_cPZExL85Hs7OpbUfsT-bCKOWEbnbrhbnz3A8AMCso/s320/IMG_5769.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>A short sharp climb brought me up to Bagworth Beacon, installed "to celebrate the dawning of a new millenium - the year 2000" according to a plaque on the post. It was only 11am, but I was hungry, so I ate half a sandwich on a pleasant bench.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbpAAwfqrUyLq-2GYovKXc16AnfkhHl82H7cgrn_WdruT_ZlHxMyK-0p5hVcjFZnHaOvUemxOMrCfHBpJ7l0UFnqDcLhI9eJvHN6eXn4rrRzBecFiBg9AHY9ZCAdcZxEJnWjGv12-jdWVg5jCtpy0nO8rgpvO2Zz2kpXs9v_OLWpzZpgKnfBj_8Lommhs/s3264/IMG_5772.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbpAAwfqrUyLq-2GYovKXc16AnfkhHl82H7cgrn_WdruT_ZlHxMyK-0p5hVcjFZnHaOvUemxOMrCfHBpJ7l0UFnqDcLhI9eJvHN6eXn4rrRzBecFiBg9AHY9ZCAdcZxEJnWjGv12-jdWVg5jCtpy0nO8rgpvO2Zz2kpXs9v_OLWpzZpgKnfBj_8Lommhs/s320/IMG_5772.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT_JOAHqh6NNjZhJMxJZWXD_e_Dncl6OVzq5ERowH8boI3_oHFnkcbkPALdTI7-9S4nCrU1jXV-rRZ0M53mpevVlStnxJ1UPhooIpmnvVSypDi2uW5rzxKvay9r_CIKwW_qx_5cU_AifrYzfNu4Atth4h5uasbQ10Ol1gSLKdMXZ4i4MRI0op1H0hhSNw/s3264/IMG_5771.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT_JOAHqh6NNjZhJMxJZWXD_e_Dncl6OVzq5ERowH8boI3_oHFnkcbkPALdTI7-9S4nCrU1jXV-rRZ0M53mpevVlStnxJ1UPhooIpmnvVSypDi2uW5rzxKvay9r_CIKwW_qx_5cU_AifrYzfNu4Atth4h5uasbQ10Ol1gSLKdMXZ4i4MRI0op1H0hhSNw/s320/IMG_5771.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>At Bagworth I followed the NFW to where it crossed the main road. That was the end of my National Forest Way section, but I had some bonus Ways to follow on this walk, as I was joining the Ivanhoe Way / Leicestershire Round across to Nailstone.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEsOg3EAfnyORgXLIV7GJkMa1IbbP4uVnCrv1QCQBoTl6LU8RVDitvv65efU6a7xeFNfKdSJ3gDtFMzmfhaiGVQ-GcXUs2gQj1hy5n6xlYYibpoxepL0AZUi1OEZssmyk3uex8txXiC6rvSQNirDBQqfSwAkXvGt3DUvjCRhgAMwgpLuTpvqzBOaOQWMU/s3264/IMG_5775.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEsOg3EAfnyORgXLIV7GJkMa1IbbP4uVnCrv1QCQBoTl6LU8RVDitvv65efU6a7xeFNfKdSJ3gDtFMzmfhaiGVQ-GcXUs2gQj1hy5n6xlYYibpoxepL0AZUi1OEZssmyk3uex8txXiC6rvSQNirDBQqfSwAkXvGt3DUvjCRhgAMwgpLuTpvqzBOaOQWMU/s320/IMG_5775.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p> </p><p>Once again I was glad I was doing a loop. I would have missed the quite moving memorial statue for Bagworth Colliery, and the informative sign outside the village hall. Bagworth is clearly a village with an active civic society.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN_nfpBia4MtZzrryDpeCh6_avIkCWxqfIqsxi8bb6gc2-lDidrTFk6PUHSposxuriC0piEe0SlIJaSJVJVMimXRymPBoil4IucnoweraX4-GqwUDFUcGf9sGJhXCNsOVTCdpmZ8Ynufjye44uPfVFJmPXxD-kcngj9ECc-pdujN27CK8V74U2hAT-KZQ/s3264/IMG_5778.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN_nfpBia4MtZzrryDpeCh6_avIkCWxqfIqsxi8bb6gc2-lDidrTFk6PUHSposxuriC0piEe0SlIJaSJVJVMimXRymPBoil4IucnoweraX4-GqwUDFUcGf9sGJhXCNsOVTCdpmZ8Ynufjye44uPfVFJmPXxD-kcngj9ECc-pdujN27CK8V74U2hAT-KZQ/s320/IMG_5778.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicmmc20s6rB_PXt3bwvIcygTt2JkXLghaKHJQLWz7kh6oyNQ4KAyHfrHUsujaU83OOjknMt0XrqKed7gDyXeEyabmcHlRiNOQJXgsyPOLEH0sdbXYTlnFmrvVy1QP0_o2eriJLSAxioByL4fIEeBcc1h27I9q8Kr8OFWBgMJKfyoHVi-tFHF_VHiMuPsU/s3264/IMG_5779.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicmmc20s6rB_PXt3bwvIcygTt2JkXLghaKHJQLWz7kh6oyNQ4KAyHfrHUsujaU83OOjknMt0XrqKed7gDyXeEyabmcHlRiNOQJXgsyPOLEH0sdbXYTlnFmrvVy1QP0_o2eriJLSAxioByL4fIEeBcc1h27I9q8Kr8OFWBgMJKfyoHVi-tFHF_VHiMuPsU/s320/IMG_5779.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>The path to Nailstone started off as a nice firm grassy track with sweeping views, then degenerated into a slippery splash across muddy fields. By the time I reached the beautiful church at Nailstone, I was ready for the rest of my lunch.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Ggp7xmSuchROMbQuc5nVonOSnWASGCHON_zePj3qPH0FWyjQWSs66VD2TtwR1CjAQ60m6uN8YjIyzQ9yj_5vs2tCqLo1WYQNBdc5OQZwO8i7oTZ029YUDr5D6wGWjmiovgqs01Y8XiXFYD6NsCgnGKJ96znjWjoT0pB-HiiwrHuDdufhR7xgAOIeFtw/s3264/IMG_5785.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Ggp7xmSuchROMbQuc5nVonOSnWASGCHON_zePj3qPH0FWyjQWSs66VD2TtwR1CjAQ60m6uN8YjIyzQ9yj_5vs2tCqLo1WYQNBdc5OQZwO8i7oTZ029YUDr5D6wGWjmiovgqs01Y8XiXFYD6NsCgnGKJ96znjWjoT0pB-HiiwrHuDdufhR7xgAOIeFtw/s320/IMG_5785.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Heading north again, I crossed a few more fields, then arrived at the other side of the newly landscaped area I'd crossed earlier. This side had a sign which informed me that I was in the Nailstone Platinum Jubilee Park, built on the site of Nailstone Colliery. Bizarrely, it surrounds a giant Aldi distribution centre, which is itself surrounded by the tallest fence I've ever seen. Are they expecting to be raided when the apocalypse comes? </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyMFXCjUtjXePKG4b3FBByOWKgrMNBrifuNUCfXDgIbngyUOXzD65EULQH-v86nv1OoiM-RdgVgmJ7GIshZn5a74X7W7XFdDkQHG8N8Vzrxi4gcuykTkEClHoIiX_dyzuoLT6m-FXvw_M3aYB0y_SbDsH0J9BX50dSfxVwv1OUVdQLVJr3_thyxyv7Brk/s3264/IMG_5789.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyMFXCjUtjXePKG4b3FBByOWKgrMNBrifuNUCfXDgIbngyUOXzD65EULQH-v86nv1OoiM-RdgVgmJ7GIshZn5a74X7W7XFdDkQHG8N8Vzrxi4gcuykTkEClHoIiX_dyzuoLT6m-FXvw_M3aYB0y_SbDsH0J9BX50dSfxVwv1OUVdQLVJr3_thyxyv7Brk/s320/IMG_5789.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvcRBDUbl7PJd7eFcXVCdOs63p1PGcm30uBQ5dXmbMrYNWqdeEVsZcSuoXr9qO4w0q1fnz49xj_Zhduyn5_SWa2BJ8XIRSObrdZFMWFdEpk3r6xZOcp6sL8wSH4S6uWYJUX6Yp2tBrbXFE_M1erlGYqzXy0mL2eW18Rj7_9FVwZfr9FqszPv7CIUDzniE/s4608/IMG_5790.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvcRBDUbl7PJd7eFcXVCdOs63p1PGcm30uBQ5dXmbMrYNWqdeEVsZcSuoXr9qO4w0q1fnz49xj_Zhduyn5_SWa2BJ8XIRSObrdZFMWFdEpk3r6xZOcp6sL8wSH4S6uWYJUX6Yp2tBrbXFE_M1erlGYqzXy0mL2eW18Rj7_9FVwZfr9FqszPv7CIUDzniE/s320/IMG_5790.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">giant Aldi fence in the background<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>On the other side of the Platinum Jubilee Park was Battram Wood again. I decided the paths at the first entrance I got to were a bit much, even in wellies!</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj69CIz_pa4aRFdH-cFuvI7oh46UHp6PmdxPS9km4Tb20SpxpzYsR5a8dIlDvOH-V0DKlWQqZg9-8HW_qDNhIqewUwUaFQtPeX6xW8BcIXxdsKHxY1jsJuN2fBJcwYv5gPZ8BTgIvjRCuwjZ4wp1W0nV72hgkgxaB3s88Wxsr1JRk3ryPlsfnH1mCWzGVQ/s3264/IMG_5802.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj69CIz_pa4aRFdH-cFuvI7oh46UHp6PmdxPS9km4Tb20SpxpzYsR5a8dIlDvOH-V0DKlWQqZg9-8HW_qDNhIqewUwUaFQtPeX6xW8BcIXxdsKHxY1jsJuN2fBJcwYv5gPZ8BTgIvjRCuwjZ4wp1W0nV72hgkgxaB3s88Wxsr1JRk3ryPlsfnH1mCWzGVQ/s320/IMG_5802.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p>So I went a little way along the lane to find the NFW again, and followed that back to Ellistown. This was the state of my legs at the end of the walk.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS4k0oAZAb44pwxI_ArWGYgC5XJ8Zz6FyTZxdasf4yd1OMJuKUpdQe9HvClZviVexI3L-VVcleKGDsNtKZ2rYDIqXriayuXw2aPVu7NUxIEoYWufNchOUQ3VBIVmE0EukBZotl4tmKfs-ktXDzjyAAf8HFsmAQH0tpoaxkUJ3Ny-8Q1Fsmt8i7wVeoGvk/s3264/IMG_5804.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS4k0oAZAb44pwxI_ArWGYgC5XJ8Zz6FyTZxdasf4yd1OMJuKUpdQe9HvClZviVexI3L-VVcleKGDsNtKZ2rYDIqXriayuXw2aPVu7NUxIEoYWufNchOUQ3VBIVmE0EukBZotl4tmKfs-ktXDzjyAAf8HFsmAQH0tpoaxkUJ3Ny-8Q1Fsmt8i7wVeoGvk/s320/IMG_5804.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p>Previous sections:</p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/10/national-forest-way-normanton-le-heath.html">Normanton le Heath - Ellistown</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/10/national-forest-way-ashby-to-normanton.html">Ashby - Normanton le Heath </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/09/national-forest-way-calke-abbey-to.html">Calke Abbey - Ashby de la Zouch </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/08/national-forest-way-hartshorne-foremark.html">Hartshorne, Foremark, Calke Abbey </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/07/national-forest-way-overseal-to.html">Overseal - Hartshorne</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/07/national-forest-way-rosliston-to.html">Rosliston - Overseal</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/05/national-forest-way-rangemore-to.html">Rangemore - Rosliston</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/04/walking-national-forest-way-with-two.html">National Memorial Arboretum - Rangemore</a></p><p></p>Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-59647314941659940992023-10-28T14:03:00.003-05:002023-11-12T06:39:29.289-06:00National Forest Way: Normanton le Heath to Ellistown<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzmBKPtqIUCBt7_nq70_plWXXn8iQMSf0vFZ2Q-WEzEnNCaTqMEYuT0eJkozdKdl_Hb3vZEKVFtwdOAW-23hu8p-sT66YC6r_5glCdcivAlyofbauvyPycTbg8TpgpAHqG6aIu04lrBWyqx2HmUf5WSrOBkb4Jm-EdXkIMGotRv59WG9cR1CuLn-7b3ug/s2209/IMG_5755.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2209" data-original-width="1707" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzmBKPtqIUCBt7_nq70_plWXXn8iQMSf0vFZ2Q-WEzEnNCaTqMEYuT0eJkozdKdl_Hb3vZEKVFtwdOAW-23hu8p-sT66YC6r_5glCdcivAlyofbauvyPycTbg8TpgpAHqG6aIu04lrBWyqx2HmUf5WSrOBkb4Jm-EdXkIMGotRv59WG9cR1CuLn-7b3ug/s320/IMG_5755.JPG" width="247" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>This 9-mile walk took me through the Queen Elizabeth Jubilee Woods and Sence Valley Forest Park, and into the heavily-quarried countryside south of Coalville (no prizes for guessing what was mined there!) I originally planned to walk from Normanton le Heath to Donington le Heath, which had a pleasing symmetry. But I decided to go a bit further, to the hamlet of Ellistown.</p><p> <iframe height="480" src="https://www.google.com/maps/d/embed?mid=140n0avWyyFsm-8td_j4ouu9tg52AmPo&ehbc=2E312F&noprof=1" width="640"></iframe></p><p>It was a <i>cold</i> morning. I'd been in shorts the previous weekend, but today there was a frost. I added a flask of coffee, a scarf and gloves to my kit, and set off.</p><p>For a small village, Normanton le Heath has a surprisingly wide road. I parked there rather than using the car park for the Jubilee Woods. That meant I was at my starting point straight away. I followed a road past some rather nice houses, crossed a field, and entered the Queen Elizabeth Jubilee Woods. The NFW leaflet told me that I was on the route of the Via Devana, a Roman road from Colchester to Chester. There isn't much left of it.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi90TyA7qtzK89TBPSnSaeOZM8sLiuWgmjNmvrRpIE3bZdwVOeNvsGZXi5tYodHHRB8wzlms2nxHXEpiW5dA-q1m-nin0bfKeUUn5Sw-GvO4-xG_9gvqyd2yr0-MgdbMXtcyFgeu8YmZXCtNBF0ESSYUQ6OQHLcdJ6VToQ_5GHjAS9QPCAXML4YMW2c23Y/s3264/IMG_5738.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi90TyA7qtzK89TBPSnSaeOZM8sLiuWgmjNmvrRpIE3bZdwVOeNvsGZXi5tYodHHRB8wzlms2nxHXEpiW5dA-q1m-nin0bfKeUUn5Sw-GvO4-xG_9gvqyd2yr0-MgdbMXtcyFgeu8YmZXCtNBF0ESSYUQ6OQHLcdJ6VToQ_5GHjAS9QPCAXML4YMW2c23Y/s320/IMG_5738.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKwFycx2jZ3R6EZqaPsECr_JZ38bbTI6r_AebH7rGjPPPIfOBFVZ1QxkTGNNUEA3pmVIlq1ryF2NeQEKVnO-7xqCX86WdweEQMjgDkEUrQEnoHHzD_OkgRW8LVhWRFoBn8EWu4_59wfKExAhGXb8niqsMHYFGOkEzm6AbuW0wXf5euJEXeZHrVEm0RNpA/s3264/IMG_5740.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKwFycx2jZ3R6EZqaPsECr_JZ38bbTI6r_AebH7rGjPPPIfOBFVZ1QxkTGNNUEA3pmVIlq1ryF2NeQEKVnO-7xqCX86WdweEQMjgDkEUrQEnoHHzD_OkgRW8LVhWRFoBn8EWu4_59wfKExAhGXb8niqsMHYFGOkEzm6AbuW0wXf5euJEXeZHrVEm0RNpA/s320/IMG_5740.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a mosaic, but not Roman<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /> I had to cross a couple of fields which were newly sown with winter wheat. The blades glowed in the sun, and I felt bad trampling across them. Still, I was glad the fields hadn't been freshly ploughed. That would have been very hard work!<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2o6lTeEoDKptCvRT7AyVpKq8pWaQIdeQVTvPBPPF4Yk2XYLTDC1pVYw2xZE_nAwIsT2DGx-xAamFF4jKwtZrYagBJu7i4uOd5tQBB4BOhlPINMx29Hnoz8tmsMjyjtrwBGi6tEA88EDZk5XSfO6U_9f3F2BvkqD5FUGs0kdKMPpw41PRzFWxKe7SkWZI/s3264/IMG_5741.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2o6lTeEoDKptCvRT7AyVpKq8pWaQIdeQVTvPBPPF4Yk2XYLTDC1pVYw2xZE_nAwIsT2DGx-xAamFF4jKwtZrYagBJu7i4uOd5tQBB4BOhlPINMx29Hnoz8tmsMjyjtrwBGi6tEA88EDZk5XSfO6U_9f3F2BvkqD5FUGs0kdKMPpw41PRzFWxKe7SkWZI/s320/IMG_5741.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> <p></p><p>After a short section on a road, a byway took me across the Sence Valley to the Forest Park. I dutifully followed the Way to the car park there to view the Noon Column, the second that I'd encountered. (The first was at Jackson's Bank.) There are six all together; tall columns with a slot cut into them, positioned so that the sun will shine through the slot at true noon on Midsummer's and Midwinter's Days. It's a nice idea, but that's a rather short timeframe in which to be interesting.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYOw1q_UMriAWgQsMUY9MTzU5P225anFOG0z8n4oUt_71Ixj-PZkSZdI_2HkdaCBqQojwF4AX6HrwzHNrnBTf6NFtOXOiZzD_r5tx7hk_2F_GKkjt0vYsprMr8_JFTm2dWCFUeqh6LJpr_xSrDdISQwdGSes3Beeq7IqBa3fOfrjU5Oj8OwLei5NbqsqE/s3264/IMG_5745.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYOw1q_UMriAWgQsMUY9MTzU5P225anFOG0z8n4oUt_71Ixj-PZkSZdI_2HkdaCBqQojwF4AX6HrwzHNrnBTf6NFtOXOiZzD_r5tx7hk_2F_GKkjt0vYsprMr8_JFTm2dWCFUeqh6LJpr_xSrDdISQwdGSes3Beeq7IqBa3fOfrjU5Oj8OwLei5NbqsqE/s320/IMG_5745.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Noon Column<br /></td></tr></tbody></table> <p></p><p>On the next byway I met two ladies on white horses. I crossed a large field with only a faint trace of footpath, then splashed through a very boggy section next to the River Sence. My feet got wet.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-T0kr97gTVjla8eVUY5mKjGTSY_qs0JadU9B6TGnNlFs2fmwOk9urY_oM9xlL44282ILuWlUgwKIaTJezk_FqCYgIsxgW0ZNIIq1TgJlZJ2dJUTBDRWqV4xZrzkdz423oUiEbjD4NRTkplxYbMETtR_O74TIrvTg6fFpZB_zBRPn556hrTzrPoRNnHRA/s3264/IMG_5748.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-T0kr97gTVjla8eVUY5mKjGTSY_qs0JadU9B6TGnNlFs2fmwOk9urY_oM9xlL44282ILuWlUgwKIaTJezk_FqCYgIsxgW0ZNIIq1TgJlZJ2dJUTBDRWqV4xZrzkdz423oUiEbjD4NRTkplxYbMETtR_O74TIrvTg6fFpZB_zBRPn556hrTzrPoRNnHRA/s320/IMG_5748.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAG3kBZGsClU6zSJB8VcpmgQiSarAyEJ2hEAyTSDSNeCO8ryzX_DtNDhGIlvf810QxxPxZT7sLB9likA_Y84TsNDEH_LT5XOYQ13yVRSzmtbCDGaQhw7dvbK6ilEizEToNUHmY0KCWjVpaOMqp6u4fVGBlHSlz9GqgeerfTeH5mqRXuaVsbd5fptnvCP4/s3264/IMG_5749.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAG3kBZGsClU6zSJB8VcpmgQiSarAyEJ2hEAyTSDSNeCO8ryzX_DtNDhGIlvf810QxxPxZT7sLB9likA_Y84TsNDEH_LT5XOYQ13yVRSzmtbCDGaQhw7dvbK6ilEizEToNUHmY0KCWjVpaOMqp6u4fVGBlHSlz9GqgeerfTeH5mqRXuaVsbd5fptnvCP4/s320/IMG_5749.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">over this bridge was the wet bit!<br /></td></tr></tbody></table> <p></p><p>Fortunately I was soon back on hard surfaces and coming into Donington le Heath. I perched on a bench for a quick cup of coffee. It was only a few more minutes' walk to Ellistown, so I decided to keep going. That gave me a good route for my loop back. </p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5qgoX4Wgbt_GNA_SMxsmxWts7wb32qyEl0D34uIYzsqJ8bGqKk2sqk84njsILVizmvza8G1BLRW7uwlFJsw7Q5eVjgDheeuJL6J0ftulTjDPYdohLkdkNuKEh5WJy4vaAepA2dVuw-1bnl3Iqja3pX5zt9ylztQurl27pJaEroSCBW_Zs-ZHN1lNk-Lg/s3264/IMG_5750.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5qgoX4Wgbt_GNA_SMxsmxWts7wb32qyEl0D34uIYzsqJ8bGqKk2sqk84njsILVizmvza8G1BLRW7uwlFJsw7Q5eVjgDheeuJL6J0ftulTjDPYdohLkdkNuKEh5WJy4vaAepA2dVuw-1bnl3Iqja3pX5zt9ylztQurl27pJaEroSCBW_Zs-ZHN1lNk-Lg/s320/IMG_5750.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Donington Arms<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>There was a surprisingly nice footpath sandwiched between a road and a quarry. It brought me out at the landscaped entrance to Ibstock Brick; I then followed the road to the outskirts of Ibstock. Google Maps was more useful than the OS map for showing me that there was a route through a housing estate back to Sence Valley Forest Park.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinSWJFogjpa31ic_OPVf2h6YOatYXu5Dmyl7doKOxW7M-ixcfwXvf_IJcI01CmznYQ__fjY4Kq22KdGB6Ab8qhKJLp2Bjly9ZUP9LCWVKYeI8G7_E4g2wFnrvynXfnXo7NBU6wwyd9oOpctl3zrH3PYiWiDofNCltnQgspNfWehV2v2R_Hg_yO_B_FNCo/s3264/IMG_5751.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinSWJFogjpa31ic_OPVf2h6YOatYXu5Dmyl7doKOxW7M-ixcfwXvf_IJcI01CmznYQ__fjY4Kq22KdGB6Ab8qhKJLp2Bjly9ZUP9LCWVKYeI8G7_E4g2wFnrvynXfnXo7NBU6wwyd9oOpctl3zrH3PYiWiDofNCltnQgspNfWehV2v2R_Hg_yO_B_FNCo/s320/IMG_5751.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Several families were enjoying the gravelled paths past the lakes in the Forest Park. I realised it must be half term in Leicestershire - somehow the county has different school holidays to the rest of England. A cormorant flew over as I settled down to my lunch. The bench I sat on was dedicated to Connie Porter, "who would have enjoyed this seat and your company". Isn't that lovely? That one phrase gives such a nice picture of her.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXYCy95jrHb1GLKq7FI5NpMUB8ek_4M0vSl1i47lHktvkDeyObInBWgVdCSWZKy_wLu2wmiYu7uV1m1g2bLhoyFznSqQ-mxtiA8GtTMCaAt7-Ab8obVDrnTlvGZKVl_plWezb8S_ciixWqPGfXBwoOi0Xm6gmm66-1RgoFhbUuALO7UsoDOXY1gL0Ez88/s3264/IMG_5752.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXYCy95jrHb1GLKq7FI5NpMUB8ek_4M0vSl1i47lHktvkDeyObInBWgVdCSWZKy_wLu2wmiYu7uV1m1g2bLhoyFznSqQ-mxtiA8GtTMCaAt7-Ab8obVDrnTlvGZKVl_plWezb8S_ciixWqPGfXBwoOi0Xm6gmm66-1RgoFhbUuALO7UsoDOXY1gL0Ez88/s320/IMG_5752.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">lunch view<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /> <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5p3QIrKi31CuCAO4naTxymT8rKf1VMAZDCjlnA6VWsL0abCrqVXCwOmMX5DDZ15xqb4DjWZq_dXhhM6gPeG7IcdWmTCriN6d4fyqOIutul0KgyEtuqUECsSoQUvW292uL_KxxqoqMxq_Vy-g8qsVplsuhvs2ucKbDla3tD3rR0oXe6KsyX6LPWJ_D_1A/s2699/IMG_5753.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1850" data-original-width="2699" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5p3QIrKi31CuCAO4naTxymT8rKf1VMAZDCjlnA6VWsL0abCrqVXCwOmMX5DDZ15xqb4DjWZq_dXhhM6gPeG7IcdWmTCriN6d4fyqOIutul0KgyEtuqUECsSoQUvW292uL_KxxqoqMxq_Vy-g8qsVplsuhvs2ucKbDla3tD3rR0oXe6KsyX6LPWJ_D_1A/s320/IMG_5753.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>I said goodbye to Connie Porter and cut across to the village of Heather. A ginger cat barred my way, I met Goofy in a telephone box, and encountered heaps of pumpkins. These "ghost" pumpkins have become very popular.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw3yKbHWv6jhBl9eTDOgRoPR3Us4NdIFKVw_QIyCJO74KikqKHDjtbYvSvGZrVlziibm_YH55mpTxmWvowh91u9zjyUcWp5XA_zunnCDreo72bCGmMNuuIROJ4iY5n6sRKxx7hzgCvKrjBYrOQtU6l-6ZazP2_EZqH9VbA96bC6CIXqlt-dJLA38_VEHg/s2523/IMG_5757.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2523" data-original-width="2115" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw3yKbHWv6jhBl9eTDOgRoPR3Us4NdIFKVw_QIyCJO74KikqKHDjtbYvSvGZrVlziibm_YH55mpTxmWvowh91u9zjyUcWp5XA_zunnCDreo72bCGmMNuuIROJ4iY5n6sRKxx7hzgCvKrjBYrOQtU6l-6ZazP2_EZqH9VbA96bC6CIXqlt-dJLA38_VEHg/s320/IMG_5757.JPG" width="268" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfH8a344XY-6GWxrxKz2l91vGod8jUUuwfCfzcDCdFSU-6RaCB24ghdxsFEkpsq8Z7jC92x9WUTaMqVfhMwswhqdcZ3iCcsiHMFEhQLBGLBSCuoPavJLaO2_QT4IUC6VqXQLCub4BPJcFLjVMsJrhEY6uOuMxq1CJFq-3mmD9-RCdydTDluuONS40JIq4/s3264/IMG_5760.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfH8a344XY-6GWxrxKz2l91vGod8jUUuwfCfzcDCdFSU-6RaCB24ghdxsFEkpsq8Z7jC92x9WUTaMqVfhMwswhqdcZ3iCcsiHMFEhQLBGLBSCuoPavJLaO2_QT4IUC6VqXQLCub4BPJcFLjVMsJrhEY6uOuMxq1CJFq-3mmD9-RCdydTDluuONS40JIq4/s320/IMG_5760.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> <p></p><p>Soon I was back in the Jubilee Wood, and then climbing up the hill to Normanton church. It's a very pretty building.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyhtEZIOsYtfA_I6riktGjVnDWz0e5QTHccw35qFFA8tBmCJKwoNgp6tFOYRR1DCQVvqU7YZ2VTyOgUhkCesiMklx-cbQbe0L7BBOdzn22qC0hLzqDJOtRDK_ONz9M2YWrQQncs9yQUm4D1GE2vPi1xKX8MfND94V5oer3KmJj4Wosrn_JAdUi5aPek7U/s3264/IMG_5763.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyhtEZIOsYtfA_I6riktGjVnDWz0e5QTHccw35qFFA8tBmCJKwoNgp6tFOYRR1DCQVvqU7YZ2VTyOgUhkCesiMklx-cbQbe0L7BBOdzn22qC0hLzqDJOtRDK_ONz9M2YWrQQncs9yQUm4D1GE2vPi1xKX8MfND94V5oer3KmJj4Wosrn_JAdUi5aPek7U/s320/IMG_5763.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p>Previous sections:</p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/10/national-forest-way-ashby-to-normanton.html">Ashby - Normanton le Heath </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/09/national-forest-way-calke-abbey-to.html">Calke Abbey - Ashby de la Zouch </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/08/national-forest-way-hartshorne-foremark.html">Hartshorne, Foremark, Calke Abbey </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/07/national-forest-way-overseal-to.html">Overseal - Hartshorne</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/07/national-forest-way-rosliston-to.html">Rosliston - Overseal</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/05/national-forest-way-rangemore-to.html">Rangemore - Rosliston</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/04/walking-national-forest-way-with-two.html">National Memorial Arboretum - Rangemore</a></p><p></p>Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-72822266847202822772023-10-28T05:56:00.001-05:002023-10-28T07:32:59.235-05:00National Forest Way: Ashby to Normanton le Heath<p>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. </p><p><iframe height="480" src="https://www.google.com/maps/d/embed?mid=1AD867GHhwcL-n9LlZLNx85vvw_G63po&ehbc=2E312F&noprof=1" width="640"></iframe> </p><p>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.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLTjEUQv4ssIu6dAGVNzcck30pPBg7iKeB03lna-GtMpjvmn77quAbNjARpVIWg0gTyIzlCCPRo7G3Si9v44_x56S-tWdke71fRTDrXt9AM8TxjIDWgj-0AISRgOU_qzqGO38y0Ukr9qs_ugXE0ookMhlYYPjONwJnBF3yz-ZsLHbtXhPLCvSiYDuyTzo/s2592/IMG_20230925_094303253.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1952" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLTjEUQv4ssIu6dAGVNzcck30pPBg7iKeB03lna-GtMpjvmn77quAbNjARpVIWg0gTyIzlCCPRo7G3Si9v44_x56S-tWdke71fRTDrXt9AM8TxjIDWgj-0AISRgOU_qzqGO38y0Ukr9qs_ugXE0ookMhlYYPjONwJnBF3yz-ZsLHbtXhPLCvSiYDuyTzo/s320/IMG_20230925_094303253.jpg" width="241" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me by the apple tree<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn-hdWt7RBtKV1TEBjEz5A6Zt_0TruqhvBVWh9NojhXSLS299ef8PYc8rYXYwOfJCPN9m2DTZOanKZwvFIyHs0bHrM6fva3uTMCXy2ZtfF3O45Wl9mhh13ChlhkqkFHNFMRWiaZhH96e3IH-9-HGOnyFeAPa4OvQe194ZKGr2BR9YzAfgJqsSW-2nVh1Q/s3264/IMG_5700.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn-hdWt7RBtKV1TEBjEz5A6Zt_0TruqhvBVWh9NojhXSLS299ef8PYc8rYXYwOfJCPN9m2DTZOanKZwvFIyHs0bHrM6fva3uTMCXy2ZtfF3O45Wl9mhh13ChlhkqkFHNFMRWiaZhH96e3IH-9-HGOnyFeAPa4OvQe194ZKGr2BR9YzAfgJqsSW-2nVh1Q/s320/IMG_5700.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /> 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.<p></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2cPVPoZKo1rn3KUovl-x7x4C30GVNn6ihwi9pq_wVBDFZpkc8CkPD7Dk1MjC7Hm23d_fnVygqOJbcPtq0ZxdMeZ044rhu6DO2zFEE8q80tza1Y0EQBL0I6FbNQEs58xINKZ1jl_iQmMYH2nEAq3gg3RU-XqsnzXWEn43KMD7S83SqbtaYD5T7RdKdoPU/s3264/IMG_5701.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2cPVPoZKo1rn3KUovl-x7x4C30GVNn6ihwi9pq_wVBDFZpkc8CkPD7Dk1MjC7Hm23d_fnVygqOJbcPtq0ZxdMeZ044rhu6DO2zFEE8q80tza1Y0EQBL0I6FbNQEs58xINKZ1jl_iQmMYH2nEAq3gg3RU-XqsnzXWEn43KMD7S83SqbtaYD5T7RdKdoPU/s320/IMG_5701.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">crossing the A42<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg96uxRllAC15PUa2Hm9CW9fqtWjfgY_FKrU8yabihULhC3N2vq82JV4vuqkyKGxc159P1eP6S9vA-JOqSmQLsKK9Jt65sWYcf_P-_PhpxN9fLaIlv_fQkW-_FqAHBs5yX2oJAvtn8XfwzlD3Js25IKyr273SExW35be8ljGrvc4qSd2mbirokk8GDyd6Y/s3264/IMG_5704.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg96uxRllAC15PUa2Hm9CW9fqtWjfgY_FKrU8yabihULhC3N2vq82JV4vuqkyKGxc159P1eP6S9vA-JOqSmQLsKK9Jt65sWYcf_P-_PhpxN9fLaIlv_fQkW-_FqAHBs5yX2oJAvtn8XfwzlD3Js25IKyr273SExW35be8ljGrvc4qSd2mbirokk8GDyd6Y/s320/IMG_5704.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Packington church<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>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. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5dIoEtR3etwWMYX44KXB9sR2m5t08m2j5iWUyMre0cHDe35A-urr9Aw1Xn4XhRHUVIJ7K7MMB6j7vAavoKa12opLIQ7DasxXi62gLbFl-FEpO1bGtpFf8ILjZwSR-SnHX9-LBrCJwwnJtLn1sGnjr2kAxuM7m0n-o0A5WIYdkT86aMSKbWUycTXqrsCs/s3264/IMG_5705.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5dIoEtR3etwWMYX44KXB9sR2m5t08m2j5iWUyMre0cHDe35A-urr9Aw1Xn4XhRHUVIJ7K7MMB6j7vAavoKa12opLIQ7DasxXi62gLbFl-FEpO1bGtpFf8ILjZwSR-SnHX9-LBrCJwwnJtLn1sGnjr2kAxuM7m0n-o0A5WIYdkT86aMSKbWUycTXqrsCs/s320/IMG_5705.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr-zELG_V6ZIVywBnoUABT18cS1ZZi1jnneUUwn7nOvIArM6L9tcc1XoDdEO-TsBc6Wm1FDMcLYVY-5UXo3KL4ixf2CcA68ZJoCu99BEcWFQQr6moe1E6GV9ejiF9DZ-Ftby45j9GNJ-7tgFVXdbsRwkmpvWIXj7uou1UXn19upbQ54qhVlWCDsrw0u7U/s3264/IMG_5708.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr-zELG_V6ZIVywBnoUABT18cS1ZZi1jnneUUwn7nOvIArM6L9tcc1XoDdEO-TsBc6Wm1FDMcLYVY-5UXo3KL4ixf2CcA68ZJoCu99BEcWFQQr6moe1E6GV9ejiF9DZ-Ftby45j9GNJ-7tgFVXdbsRwkmpvWIXj7uou1UXn19upbQ54qhVlWCDsrw0u7U/s320/IMG_5708.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">view from Normanton le Heath<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>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.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpRrC77A3VnOYVPxby9LeUfSV_yblXiNf8Hj7oqiy4YwqTaqUYLmetRGMiSTd964o9RywV6eHzVQVeDjv2fNmQGcJnA9XpHShywVjalCiJkAGPk4WfUOZvGd-EvpGywGpgO3GVk1h_MJ3A4-8dU4soDs1TlpUR8FqheaJlWIPs-Ts20xmvfpLcpEqC51w/s3264/IMG_5709.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpRrC77A3VnOYVPxby9LeUfSV_yblXiNf8Hj7oqiy4YwqTaqUYLmetRGMiSTd964o9RywV6eHzVQVeDjv2fNmQGcJnA9XpHShywVjalCiJkAGPk4WfUOZvGd-EvpGywGpgO3GVk1h_MJ3A4-8dU4soDs1TlpUR8FqheaJlWIPs-Ts20xmvfpLcpEqC51w/s320/IMG_5709.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">flowers by Normanton church<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9kMx8QuOVAVJuWtQmtDj_RyHArdLT2LwOTlhHQJJ1nt5kG3i0QfiIjPo6VBVzppGVmarN80OCg2fXlPj0vFUkuJwicEVS1Pd4C9cbpK2P9WXrS7NnDGupsIYtiE-t8ZhEU-KqxKYhWa4JZQQxvPiexFOih8nX_r8_fnlOZ08-i5lDyVvvCeOywyETQl4/s3264/IMG_5710.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9kMx8QuOVAVJuWtQmtDj_RyHArdLT2LwOTlhHQJJ1nt5kG3i0QfiIjPo6VBVzppGVmarN80OCg2fXlPj0vFUkuJwicEVS1Pd4C9cbpK2P9WXrS7NnDGupsIYtiE-t8ZhEU-KqxKYhWa4JZQQxvPiexFOih8nX_r8_fnlOZ08-i5lDyVvvCeOywyETQl4/s320/IMG_5710.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">main street of Normanton le Heath<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiimjOKJ8pTJc6hbgiR9Rzv5Csf_4O18JjKxN6SK-_l4ZOIuQKvYS6tDQcQ-tky0xnX1IUX2EIBuht9IBJHWChZph38NVn-htskm2iOUlqCajl9yn_DqB54m1acem7VGS25pOyt8s8zibiQQysHNHCpKkbLqC_RQr03arM41ZtKE0blACSfAm0YZYXl1sU/s3264/IMG_5713.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiimjOKJ8pTJc6hbgiR9Rzv5Csf_4O18JjKxN6SK-_l4ZOIuQKvYS6tDQcQ-tky0xnX1IUX2EIBuht9IBJHWChZph38NVn-htskm2iOUlqCajl9yn_DqB54m1acem7VGS25pOyt8s8zibiQQysHNHCpKkbLqC_RQr03arM41ZtKE0blACSfAm0YZYXl1sU/s320/IMG_5713.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>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. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHE-ZgzCcY_CpjKhSR1CL-tL3_geefh6FHMhCbHb4ISe8IRncoMkX45O8mYIufPiQsF3dmwZKUB1V8iFf1ULaBuBvL7Gtj9cm489L3gwgtlGhEDL0-77JR8rS56Lyax2KUrt3aKbLe7t_5-7nQz6aYHhtFm9eNoMe4jSFRonPT3rgjyAlw_in5psuGRH0/s3264/IMG_5717.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHE-ZgzCcY_CpjKhSR1CL-tL3_geefh6FHMhCbHb4ISe8IRncoMkX45O8mYIufPiQsF3dmwZKUB1V8iFf1ULaBuBvL7Gtj9cm489L3gwgtlGhEDL0-77JR8rS56Lyax2KUrt3aKbLe7t_5-7nQz6aYHhtFm9eNoMe4jSFRonPT3rgjyAlw_in5psuGRH0/s320/IMG_5717.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Then I crossed Springfield Wood. The trees were simply dripping with red berries - hawthorn, rowan, and probably some others as well.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih_4HQAXFS7xdWKPqmK6ZOlYm6SBMiyTGTH5UbmyK5GWmD1-1KjoATCvzfs_UQs4nRAvFSJRl4L3wo8P-MIKTfz_z8ZsO_s7VE3u68hyphenhyphenvFY9Zpc_kTGez6hDUC3EeMYncZNdBssQqxUbPZKWP-3vhrDKgbaQwuvaEH6whrUfGa4Ke_zlf2FIyWyc_vnls/s3264/IMG_5718.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih_4HQAXFS7xdWKPqmK6ZOlYm6SBMiyTGTH5UbmyK5GWmD1-1KjoATCvzfs_UQs4nRAvFSJRl4L3wo8P-MIKTfz_z8ZsO_s7VE3u68hyphenhyphenvFY9Zpc_kTGez6hDUC3EeMYncZNdBssQqxUbPZKWP-3vhrDKgbaQwuvaEH6whrUfGa4Ke_zlf2FIyWyc_vnls/s320/IMG_5718.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>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.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUWma1-7PX7FgPBD623efEuz3thXrVqIH6fDq_NNUD2s_1Q4ttuSS5iyzYub1luHWLhaQXR0Ck3glyR1K-BtAWsQq-W9excL7ZhtDXte2z4BMRzpT61LKkVrv6cPd78ITsCjk56SwhFP2QgkANx_9e1bSV2SZdXffILrvhxcdN7trN2JHxr93IhQdv2Ds/s3264/IMG_5721.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUWma1-7PX7FgPBD623efEuz3thXrVqIH6fDq_NNUD2s_1Q4ttuSS5iyzYub1luHWLhaQXR0Ck3glyR1K-BtAWsQq-W9excL7ZhtDXte2z4BMRzpT61LKkVrv6cPd78ITsCjk56SwhFP2QgkANx_9e1bSV2SZdXffILrvhxcdN7trN2JHxr93IhQdv2Ds/s320/IMG_5721.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMoikowersGdNj7O_hTiAZ_NtwrBk_BT4VCgBuUwzYbA52Dquwr45XB2naoWOBkZsfDHgl077gJkMEywEx-vXYWBUDab8dWXCVXXtCNCsDseM8MJADpPxUpUso79lZzEk3XSTgxD4RK-H7GHg3KvujWov_E-NmDbpLewn1SRNPDKppDERbSuaVmM7IECA/s3264/IMG_5723.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMoikowersGdNj7O_hTiAZ_NtwrBk_BT4VCgBuUwzYbA52Dquwr45XB2naoWOBkZsfDHgl077gJkMEywEx-vXYWBUDab8dWXCVXXtCNCsDseM8MJADpPxUpUso79lZzEk3XSTgxD4RK-H7GHg3KvujWov_E-NmDbpLewn1SRNPDKppDERbSuaVmM7IECA/s320/IMG_5723.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">bison bison<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJxIzJerwgU6TcUFZowNWpIXXKs4yxeurTz6VtSyz4QDTOcgUt8pTB-mE_LzMO10Vt1SxrCN9bWOtgmGfxGpV4-RxJ2RkkZU414KrL9YKiwp4Q33Lw6E_GtXnUBDQhiRdcIT8MhXdkjDs5lg8lob9Y0mYs2kZ7JHsqAtskob6FEE7d6KTCSNIp1BCkLX4/s3264/IMG_5725.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJxIzJerwgU6TcUFZowNWpIXXKs4yxeurTz6VtSyz4QDTOcgUt8pTB-mE_LzMO10Vt1SxrCN9bWOtgmGfxGpV4-RxJ2RkkZU414KrL9YKiwp4Q33Lw6E_GtXnUBDQhiRdcIT8MhXdkjDs5lg8lob9Y0mYs2kZ7JHsqAtskob6FEE7d6KTCSNIp1BCkLX4/s320/IMG_5725.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>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 <i>and</i> an underground passage to explore.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEwKXhmLwsMMka1MRyV07bfMKx4zJOtpVxvXgRr2_7oFPpJhhgRFORPkjtd1tI4rIMc-e0TahyphenhyphenhIxJ9qbryURIg84heLs0Is3yZEJ3EikJagCUfULk9Kf8tlHaCWXU_4JZTFnvhUuTdyyyGQBt-MHA5xcR1Hu-fuU7IEA-U1trglygVIKL2CcHlbfT4BU/s3264/IMG_5731.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEwKXhmLwsMMka1MRyV07bfMKx4zJOtpVxvXgRr2_7oFPpJhhgRFORPkjtd1tI4rIMc-e0TahyphenhyphenhIxJ9qbryURIg84heLs0Is3yZEJ3EikJagCUfULk9Kf8tlHaCWXU_4JZTFnvhUuTdyyyGQBt-MHA5xcR1Hu-fuU7IEA-U1trglygVIKL2CcHlbfT4BU/s320/IMG_5731.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lock-up in Packington<br /></td></tr></tbody></table> <p></p><p>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 <i>we. I </i>make the scones every morning!" </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIc4_SEC-NLYvpjNRDDQOYJ-cuf0Z0fm5_WeDOHDpNsEMeFeSsShijjQnEae9TwR9NYXwmy0z-iNROBLsaqAZnc1WP1AjRLKRD35t8kA5gVJBFm_hIqPt39WPwVWbESMOgvsFwo_Ol0Xw_xN44oXgYxsz4HLYsMBsPhcp7nWTiUFSklUY_iUnfzhUuA3E/s3264/IMG_5733.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIc4_SEC-NLYvpjNRDDQOYJ-cuf0Z0fm5_WeDOHDpNsEMeFeSsShijjQnEae9TwR9NYXwmy0z-iNROBLsaqAZnc1WP1AjRLKRD35t8kA5gVJBFm_hIqPt39WPwVWbESMOgvsFwo_Ol0Xw_xN44oXgYxsz4HLYsMBsPhcp7nWTiUFSklUY_iUnfzhUuA3E/s320/IMG_5733.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> <p></p><p>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.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbUFF8ZkWAcjdiWLUIq0B2SWxfJC1iEWR1NxgzjB5K66Vow-bibGnu-kC4zHUaODBV_ZQg_L_GdPtL2jbvtAqul_BTmDY8pK4ihas519gnSIoktLIn1JnOr2Q54e4l7TP1mPq4qVSRcbV2pcMTiFYv77WXWyMvvAJsp7qYVpvc1bIp6eWieM0Q4JWxtVQ/s3264/IMG_5736.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbUFF8ZkWAcjdiWLUIq0B2SWxfJC1iEWR1NxgzjB5K66Vow-bibGnu-kC4zHUaODBV_ZQg_L_GdPtL2jbvtAqul_BTmDY8pK4ihas519gnSIoktLIn1JnOr2Q54e4l7TP1mPq4qVSRcbV2pcMTiFYv77WXWyMvvAJsp7qYVpvc1bIp6eWieM0Q4JWxtVQ/s320/IMG_5736.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><p>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.</p><div><p>Previous sections:</p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/09/national-forest-way-calke-abbey-to.html">Calke Abbey - Ashby de la Zouch </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/08/national-forest-way-hartshorne-foremark.html">Hartshorne, Foremark, Calke Abbey </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/07/national-forest-way-overseal-to.html">Overseal - Hartshorne</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/07/national-forest-way-rosliston-to.html">Rosliston - Overseal</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/05/national-forest-way-rangemore-to.html">Rangemore - Rosliston</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/04/walking-national-forest-way-with-two.html">National Memorial Arboretum - Rangemore</a></p></div><p></p>Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-54424613539827375602023-10-23T11:26:00.000-05:002023-10-23T11:26:01.210-05:00By Eurostar to Paris<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheK9ktVkGJxOMyQB7Ner_ugZFgPB5bpdp5mqHKWRWfMnqJBYXKJmqr99dvqa8HCkpVb-s6Gafz2GxNzq7_k2BAFrjSDfZ0Su8A-1bq5XQP1lscZ3OpuyUuQp1srP8hKjHBeBUJ0ZBpHTlORQbWBr_bRVBbgCVahN_wvxqeeXMDg3QrHm51tckyhmjPUBM/s4032/IMG_3748.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheK9ktVkGJxOMyQB7Ner_ugZFgPB5bpdp5mqHKWRWfMnqJBYXKJmqr99dvqa8HCkpVb-s6Gafz2GxNzq7_k2BAFrjSDfZ0Su8A-1bq5XQP1lscZ3OpuyUuQp1srP8hKjHBeBUJ0ZBpHTlORQbWBr_bRVBbgCVahN_wvxqeeXMDg3QrHm51tckyhmjPUBM/s320/IMG_3748.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p>The Eiffel Tower is huge. I know that's a ridiculous thing to say. The size is the whole point. But when we stood at the bottom, looking up at all those bolts and rivets and beams climbing high into the air - yes, it really is enormous.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisOexFLjWX3Yic9hyphenhyphengV4a9gVC-FJ2mQTTlS_b5PlLAfr2zgTPIG6R_omVPJYgjrJGVgmH1fbADd5gGhF5mVblkCayyQVq0ZlM2U810b6syYTQ1EXHHUuxEO9YyMS6i-L3r3rkTx8n8Tg78NKDkWZGm5hdIn0v04Cs19hS6WClpc2XPldvUvOaaWXHOUfQ/s4032/IMG_3747.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisOexFLjWX3Yic9hyphenhyphengV4a9gVC-FJ2mQTTlS_b5PlLAfr2zgTPIG6R_omVPJYgjrJGVgmH1fbADd5gGhF5mVblkCayyQVq0ZlM2U810b6syYTQ1EXHHUuxEO9YyMS6i-L3r3rkTx8n8Tg78NKDkWZGm5hdIn0v04Cs19hS6WClpc2XPldvUvOaaWXHOUfQ/s320/IMG_3747.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br /><p>We'd bought stairs tickets to the second level. The climb wasn't actually too arduous, and the weather was cloudy and cool. The heat would arrive later in the holiday. We eavesdropped on a tour guide who was explaining what some of the buildings were, and put a few euros in a telescope to get an even better view.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFuoTNiHHUK2iAidjDD_Ih6qA-KUhRKR_Vb5CDpaLxSR4ljtCPyKB85OrKOYJRd6cb6elfe2z40isxOOen8H6255oAyizJo7u6iLH8110KUivOE1C0X7krVVhAe7qzkPJxIwfcwsPR3wkOFCM3j0tirXt1lm1YTvGyZSSpxCMq-j6gkrR0gU18tKPYajU/s4032/IMG_3733.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFuoTNiHHUK2iAidjDD_Ih6qA-KUhRKR_Vb5CDpaLxSR4ljtCPyKB85OrKOYJRd6cb6elfe2z40isxOOen8H6255oAyizJo7u6iLH8110KUivOE1C0X7krVVhAe7qzkPJxIwfcwsPR3wkOFCM3j0tirXt1lm1YTvGyZSSpxCMq-j6gkrR0gU18tKPYajU/s320/IMG_3733.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNwhblIiySE17VmLtAKJQaxmBs1tIvtl_qk8EsWstME8N_6QP46lbyD3K94_7MV6P9domw8Kic0LPz1TY46e79TLEOv8WY79BZXmaKkxCpTY5OJrci8JhZYbWYtfviWZbtjKrMrp9GTxEtVQSxQ6KINBap7ql9BVgZtwPrFs_NGgDLwVblLs9-hoawAbw/s3264/IMG_5590.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNwhblIiySE17VmLtAKJQaxmBs1tIvtl_qk8EsWstME8N_6QP46lbyD3K94_7MV6P9domw8Kic0LPz1TY46e79TLEOv8WY79BZXmaKkxCpTY5OJrci8JhZYbWYtfviWZbtjKrMrp9GTxEtVQSxQ6KINBap7ql9BVgZtwPrFs_NGgDLwVblLs9-hoawAbw/s320/IMG_5590.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJOv0GGVXVmbWUwlct0vq5ptIyLRTeyjmD9vpDD1XXKhf_oo4DNv9Umw5o-KFsOZZRtIwykmqz1ZeBEY_UCJvqbLJdwpxQ6OagyCfY_iPHAT2gXIxIs-II-6MUxKQuLvLKKi6zZ6Ec05vrq2_UxgKbqkEh_3zYC1_KsKhLKEBNawp9uhyphenhyphenDcvkzkzFMJ5M/s3264/IMG_5582.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJOv0GGVXVmbWUwlct0vq5ptIyLRTeyjmD9vpDD1XXKhf_oo4DNv9Umw5o-KFsOZZRtIwykmqz1ZeBEY_UCJvqbLJdwpxQ6OagyCfY_iPHAT2gXIxIs-II-6MUxKQuLvLKKi6zZ6Ec05vrq2_UxgKbqkEh_3zYC1_KsKhLKEBNawp9uhyphenhyphenDcvkzkzFMJ5M/s320/IMG_5582.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>Crossing the river, we walked up to the Place du Trocadéro to view the Eiffel Tower at a more manageable size. Around us, vendors were offering models of it in six different colours, complete with flashing lights.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm3DR9-pmoPfBFIM7-eqmsf7Y8WEJMEs27WuzyHvfA_Psw_OX5oVQQgIlEEe0ANKVhQ-EujTxZFnbEjmCXlovRD7xn-5fOS5UkSeGVZQrjiePuj63mqHj7aaP7JCXO3yJiFrSa9Hw8kZHxb3sueNxsV4R3SxakP30CnwHI9ppqGgKHsBejOHZiK8CSHRM/s4032/IMG_3752.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm3DR9-pmoPfBFIM7-eqmsf7Y8WEJMEs27WuzyHvfA_Psw_OX5oVQQgIlEEe0ANKVhQ-EujTxZFnbEjmCXlovRD7xn-5fOS5UkSeGVZQrjiePuj63mqHj7aaP7JCXO3yJiFrSa9Hw8kZHxb3sueNxsV4R3SxakP30CnwHI9ppqGgKHsBejOHZiK8CSHRM/s320/IMG_3752.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p>The boys were flagging as we continued up Avenue Kléber, although Graham and Toby perked up dramatically when we suddenly stumbled across a hotel with some <i>very</i> expensive cars outside.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0DIRpvpravIxj8EWPa7H3g9fblCj84uFr_jQs3tmAZ90DKqwJJZrqiUpaOF1pOfMoqTTBQftN7TQmm7PM2xg_HK7FJOlVqy-v29CZwQkAPteRqCaXDEp7p4iKhKGhrhqzYOxoWJCpZZpwe4bxcUmxg6dKzDRzB3Nmv6P8dhXJf7nM28bjn0qJo29U1ZI/s4032/IMG_3758.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0DIRpvpravIxj8EWPa7H3g9fblCj84uFr_jQs3tmAZ90DKqwJJZrqiUpaOF1pOfMoqTTBQftN7TQmm7PM2xg_HK7FJOlVqy-v29CZwQkAPteRqCaXDEp7p4iKhKGhrhqzYOxoWJCpZZpwe4bxcUmxg6dKzDRzB3Nmv6P8dhXJf7nM28bjn0qJo29U1ZI/s320/IMG_3758.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>At the end of Avenue Kléber is the Arc de Triomphe. It's a good solid arch, but it was the anarchic traffic circle surrounding it that drew our attention. Cars and buses plunged in from one direction, dodged several lanes of traffic, and somehow escaped in another direction without hitting anything on the way.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwgLyzlM1y2t77JS8hPBp09rLMyNOUdj-XdwmncQAUTg2XKALR6bfHAQmh1zpJboRumIgYOONtDErQNtNRIzJjEVL53y8jcHVmO54dFTTvX9SosAh9bbbuX5zRNEJ0igyZQDmmXPN084kV_nC6T_pd75f0vRpZt3isKrGxa49ovT-BosPu6l3AyhUIpGQ/s4032/IMG_3777.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwgLyzlM1y2t77JS8hPBp09rLMyNOUdj-XdwmncQAUTg2XKALR6bfHAQmh1zpJboRumIgYOONtDErQNtNRIzJjEVL53y8jcHVmO54dFTTvX9SosAh9bbbuX5zRNEJ0igyZQDmmXPN084kV_nC6T_pd75f0vRpZt3isKrGxa49ovT-BosPu6l3AyhUIpGQ/s320/IMG_3777.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYt4QhW-cIRSe2Rp1-qIFwI43GpxOpYN10ntY7n2uvXbOky-NqQIL604IwKjDHG_I5EucOXa5pLx6ZjkHM_rDMSe9bXc51hg1SBy0O9Y_2j6MP7JY_sHmHpiO3JA5q_l56TdOe-iFFUtWmC4iNYg_xLY2XJ4MppomgpwIbPvluFYdeGNaKgtLOR0iSUY4/s3024/IMG_3783.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="2791" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYt4QhW-cIRSe2Rp1-qIFwI43GpxOpYN10ntY7n2uvXbOky-NqQIL604IwKjDHG_I5EucOXa5pLx6ZjkHM_rDMSe9bXc51hg1SBy0O9Y_2j6MP7JY_sHmHpiO3JA5q_l56TdOe-iFFUtWmC4iNYg_xLY2XJ4MppomgpwIbPvluFYdeGNaKgtLOR0iSUY4/s320/IMG_3783.JPG" width="295" /></a></div><br /><p>Next morning we kept things local, walking from our apartment in Charenton le Pont to the Palais de la Porte Dorée. It was constructed for the Paris Colonial Exposition in 1931, and currently houses the Museum of Immigration History in an attempt to redeem its dramatic but uncomfortably dated colonial decoration.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4cyIepimZW9jOjiaKnLrrtpy3uy27PeO1XwTCPYAzJ7dZVn4AJHq4vkOhGTH_B6YZegsG98NEgDTF1Nyfkwj704XKZVvxCw4GBFRIz2ZyFhCaOn6E5Dz0ANHwaXrF2j7GkJurat9ruZbpOkAydlle2nDMEfe_qkCA_xEAqRedaVie8eZkryR-QhLakd0/s3264/IMG_5603.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4cyIepimZW9jOjiaKnLrrtpy3uy27PeO1XwTCPYAzJ7dZVn4AJHq4vkOhGTH_B6YZegsG98NEgDTF1Nyfkwj704XKZVvxCw4GBFRIz2ZyFhCaOn6E5Dz0ANHwaXrF2j7GkJurat9ruZbpOkAydlle2nDMEfe_qkCA_xEAqRedaVie8eZkryR-QhLakd0/s320/IMG_5603.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p>It also has an albino crocodile in the basement, along with turtles and piranhas.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioQwrWpjvAqAUA9Kmpt2qKuNqS2AMFA4Cqo3BLdLE4kvxSdxj1e3hIVikxLpVflkutiU9pY3jP3T0l0PKyU5rWhi8ZmzBgJId5zVYSFyoxgtE0m48poQzrYrhrATx8ENoWzLyPxq7aYsiz9C0r_M3J8GgBL2EHh226x_PG9FALjmAjnnHARvZDwFcdpkw/s3264/IMG_5601.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioQwrWpjvAqAUA9Kmpt2qKuNqS2AMFA4Cqo3BLdLE4kvxSdxj1e3hIVikxLpVflkutiU9pY3jP3T0l0PKyU5rWhi8ZmzBgJId5zVYSFyoxgtE0m48poQzrYrhrATx8ENoWzLyPxq7aYsiz9C0r_M3J8GgBL2EHh226x_PG9FALjmAjnnHARvZDwFcdpkw/s320/IMG_5601.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ2Nnx0jiZTrSl-vM_l9PrHLdX_efKLf8qEZxWBSEIelK9Cn-h9uM4DFtwFYXVNS0cJliqlXuBjEtaFFbkyT-XbkhotNSCD00NF-0S1hpVCJcCI9NWVQHMkYrPrS289oYsCTdvcN-s3bc4gMdZ2ROxkG1dKpKDqGySwzS3zYdPKainqPP0ksH1nIe7-vA/s4032/IMG_3793.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ2Nnx0jiZTrSl-vM_l9PrHLdX_efKLf8qEZxWBSEIelK9Cn-h9uM4DFtwFYXVNS0cJliqlXuBjEtaFFbkyT-XbkhotNSCD00NF-0S1hpVCJcCI9NWVQHMkYrPrS289oYsCTdvcN-s3bc4gMdZ2ROxkG1dKpKDqGySwzS3zYdPKainqPP0ksH1nIe7-vA/s320/IMG_3793.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>In the afternoon we had booked tickets to the Louvre. Apart from Graham googling "best things to see in the Louvre" we hadn't got any plan, so we headed to the top floor and looked at whatever was in front of us. That took us from gigantic paintings of angels to swimming Egyptian ladies, along with monks, saints, and decorative ceilings.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBgCd_sAIBYNNtHUkoGLzvJx7l41Faaz-jAIUxzNsdjRtVtQbu8GsdjUaMw3RDnTuVhKD8o1TCDnWmUqZgpV908cx4tskB6d9eHRhKLa0QhTmgQHRWN-_uc3GhLCfM212wPz-pXwgYZduNCWiVCVBkx2blZn7FRpk7wp44s6OwL8-71Jg1kzYyRMxvSAU/s4032/IMG_3802.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBgCd_sAIBYNNtHUkoGLzvJx7l41Faaz-jAIUxzNsdjRtVtQbu8GsdjUaMw3RDnTuVhKD8o1TCDnWmUqZgpV908cx4tskB6d9eHRhKLa0QhTmgQHRWN-_uc3GhLCfM212wPz-pXwgYZduNCWiVCVBkx2blZn7FRpk7wp44s6OwL8-71Jg1kzYyRMxvSAU/s320/IMG_3802.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQkHweca4HVZdASWD29pQwvQrjoLfAxaLW0xnzhAC2lE5rSvhIo13uizqYnhmA2cwCH2TquigEPf3h7jCrMn1cdYA71aofJcxkOrbpPNE9Cp_iDaKS2nV0vyTMCMp3MHstuYJG4eMrS-xKKUFmVAUXAaB4omELstZlVf0pXT14bzzxqJA8aXgOFwfw8cU/s4032/IMG_3809.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQkHweca4HVZdASWD29pQwvQrjoLfAxaLW0xnzhAC2lE5rSvhIo13uizqYnhmA2cwCH2TquigEPf3h7jCrMn1cdYA71aofJcxkOrbpPNE9Cp_iDaKS2nV0vyTMCMp3MHstuYJG4eMrS-xKKUFmVAUXAaB4omELstZlVf0pXT14bzzxqJA8aXgOFwfw8cU/s320/IMG_3809.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcH5JiDKINXFz9vtZPXwXdqnS-JV1QyzkUwtUBNmEhPu19_eTqzmyyK0iLOtsicZevnMdQ1LuDDXiDtwGnE4Ez5FU1IZryLfvpUh013nvnR4rY1YkHa2BZcVF5ImPgeeW-5I9pdMxfYEYpM6g_Gny87wsRZxu9esJZ4AU1ck52YFoQr0g6JP4GJJQUAYM/s2327/IMG_5617.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="862" data-original-width="2327" height="119" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcH5JiDKINXFz9vtZPXwXdqnS-JV1QyzkUwtUBNmEhPu19_eTqzmyyK0iLOtsicZevnMdQ1LuDDXiDtwGnE4Ez5FU1IZryLfvpUh013nvnR4rY1YkHa2BZcVF5ImPgeeW-5I9pdMxfYEYpM6g_Gny87wsRZxu9esJZ4AU1ck52YFoQr0g6JP4GJJQUAYM/s320/IMG_5617.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p>We knew we were approaching the Mona Lisa as the crowds got thicker. It's crazy that this is the one painting everyone has to see. It's in the same room as the museum's largest painting, which gets much less attention.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtAANGh7xAhqtSKPJ2_OpnOsotKYjy8Q8uwftNEH-BcEcUCh74PNQbV24SMSRWpLAzGKLR1nJU67syN2nkBeQb961aXOK-bqtjp_oNUP7ZZS_o5qfzKUvjWZ92r6xoMPKPqy-XAKX7ct_Uya64rzsROwe3xSllxvoXgjBD4aKhLtgyHptIeg5uUl7i_Zs/s4032/IMG_3823.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtAANGh7xAhqtSKPJ2_OpnOsotKYjy8Q8uwftNEH-BcEcUCh74PNQbV24SMSRWpLAzGKLR1nJU67syN2nkBeQb961aXOK-bqtjp_oNUP7ZZS_o5qfzKUvjWZ92r6xoMPKPqy-XAKX7ct_Uya64rzsROwe3xSllxvoXgjBD4aKhLtgyHptIeg5uUl7i_Zs/s320/IMG_3823.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>Just as we were leaving, all the exits to the pyramid area were closed, and we had to be ushered out of a side door. There were several fire engines outside but no obvious sense of panic. We never did find out what was going on.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi154sqzQYHJ_aKhus6N1azZz4AN-MrD0l99y09PJnMXuYMnBYTZo_MUp6ZCM6qDKSpndtCjqpADZ3jMZWlR-OULJUv1Irs7NbtJCiOBPW4KNNTXWNjJH6tp2ZfLL0OFZ5h1DhRVewvTZNylv7ix3mJedU2NVBotwZKRbhndTdTuIYU-7fGU316MMUvGA/s4032/IMG_3799.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi154sqzQYHJ_aKhus6N1azZz4AN-MrD0l99y09PJnMXuYMnBYTZo_MUp6ZCM6qDKSpndtCjqpADZ3jMZWlR-OULJUv1Irs7NbtJCiOBPW4KNNTXWNjJH6tp2ZfLL0OFZ5h1DhRVewvTZNylv7ix3mJedU2NVBotwZKRbhndTdTuIYU-7fGU316MMUvGA/s320/IMG_3799.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>By the third day the weather had got properly hot. As a change from the Métro (underground), we took the tram to the Parc des Buttes Chaumont, in the northeast of Paris. It was a Sunday, so plenty of people were picnicking on the grass or jogging by the lake.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIJ_fpf4hxYUFcaF-4canrBtXZGyGspwedJBSzO84JFZzdUaJYF6v3oIFuu8xjy92CjTrwI1fq6_ZKxlj_xcxehuQo8xaTP6LUzPKv7_e-QRKJlm1BXRKbgJOoJXiH1cTz50ZA1CfZi4nFtzmrb0k9pGMBBqs4a1uYWP2KwAx-mTtvdfvD9LM6geDV7R0/s4032/IMG_3844.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIJ_fpf4hxYUFcaF-4canrBtXZGyGspwedJBSzO84JFZzdUaJYF6v3oIFuu8xjy92CjTrwI1fq6_ZKxlj_xcxehuQo8xaTP6LUzPKv7_e-QRKJlm1BXRKbgJOoJXiH1cTz50ZA1CfZi4nFtzmrb0k9pGMBBqs4a1uYWP2KwAx-mTtvdfvD9LM6geDV7R0/s320/IMG_3844.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTYJLqeQ-dhacT7SJK45jKABMaVt4hr2jiPg7qoHISk-gAqIEPYcFE2k0WhqFGOluRO3zRi_bP5Xuyfomsd2ZQBx_o0AxA8AxxcHQeHvZI5GYtdkWAy17wXL88b7IMey9fY45VC7_aR4IPPssVbnbOZILA3WF6Z6uMJD2BL5tgeSXl-BcfIK8JZ2I2r7s/s4032/IMG_3846.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTYJLqeQ-dhacT7SJK45jKABMaVt4hr2jiPg7qoHISk-gAqIEPYcFE2k0WhqFGOluRO3zRi_bP5Xuyfomsd2ZQBx_o0AxA8AxxcHQeHvZI5GYtdkWAy17wXL88b7IMey9fY45VC7_aR4IPPssVbnbOZILA3WF6Z6uMJD2BL5tgeSXl-BcfIK8JZ2I2r7s/s320/IMG_3846.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p>In the evening we went to the city centre again and caught a most spectacular sunset over the Seine. We stood on the Pont Alexandre III and marvelled as the sky turned every shade of pink and orange, and the lights on the bridge came on, and the Eiffel Tower twinkled and glowed. It was awesome.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJiuaZI5Re8_0u-D3iTpBU2DUAhSqw7vd4H2LUIJhrESWRQcX3b7cPrvabRamOYUl3O0SRJt16cTSvSTsHAXLon5Ar81KMulpe3oqyL2_6ZRbD14bMRXTRESVm1K2E91aP4-_Vk1_WDi1fDWnUIMBNWrVR3OFT4cPBTPPympN_ObF91TaCGtkbUX1nrxg/s3024/IMG_3894.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="2938" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJiuaZI5Re8_0u-D3iTpBU2DUAhSqw7vd4H2LUIJhrESWRQcX3b7cPrvabRamOYUl3O0SRJt16cTSvSTsHAXLon5Ar81KMulpe3oqyL2_6ZRbD14bMRXTRESVm1K2E91aP4-_Vk1_WDi1fDWnUIMBNWrVR3OFT4cPBTPPympN_ObF91TaCGtkbUX1nrxg/s320/IMG_3894.JPG" width="311" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh692dlUKVwcWKNrd1z7liRSiKnN7idAuf31i0HPOKQ-xIBPVAr3QGhyphenhyphenrBobtth8vLfmx2YUFmpUDMEsubJUb8VKQ-pv1LF-hiQ3tAP9KZqcWj8cBbu1jWeJDeKM_T8W8FyCYfQiNxBzlUPeL7PmJGQ0joUchCp3wD2KNFLeMRBNpQG7IWwmVYwkBDuIoc/s4032/IMG_3900.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh692dlUKVwcWKNrd1z7liRSiKnN7idAuf31i0HPOKQ-xIBPVAr3QGhyphenhyphenrBobtth8vLfmx2YUFmpUDMEsubJUb8VKQ-pv1LF-hiQ3tAP9KZqcWj8cBbu1jWeJDeKM_T8W8FyCYfQiNxBzlUPeL7PmJGQ0joUchCp3wD2KNFLeMRBNpQG7IWwmVYwkBDuIoc/s320/IMG_3900.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLRmoRXuGZnpkH5NyWT6FtcztbWME84wPPxhOYnk-LAKpNGnZTRTUKkud_AymOoHJ7ZyPigA-pF4-WlR4T4RKEi5EpTgfjWzrT5mbYfpReiGl-sJvi4v4xCYl_YjFb5xqQCxR-s54v_5hJ4G-GHuWY2zzgo84s5oE5vOvuHcTCdg4js11wrebKXZmifq4/s4032/IMG_3903.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLRmoRXuGZnpkH5NyWT6FtcztbWME84wPPxhOYnk-LAKpNGnZTRTUKkud_AymOoHJ7ZyPigA-pF4-WlR4T4RKEi5EpTgfjWzrT5mbYfpReiGl-sJvi4v4xCYl_YjFb5xqQCxR-s54v_5hJ4G-GHuWY2zzgo84s5oE5vOvuHcTCdg4js11wrebKXZmifq4/s320/IMG_3903.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCL_Z0M9qahu1zUUcYpeMKT51EGYQFGvibO5JXYPofJoNl1Tjnpk0qgEdS3yl0Rj_vP5enkdcht0oWfiBscDduJw5Bxdm8JgLiyAsLjFgIbRnRPK7GD8OpdXX0QBzheBmp96P47ZF8WmSsxigP7pJgJeRT7xhCSe6FBBSFwE-jTr9ijoK4Dzfn0Ld9Jyg/s4032/IMG_3907.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCL_Z0M9qahu1zUUcYpeMKT51EGYQFGvibO5JXYPofJoNl1Tjnpk0qgEdS3yl0Rj_vP5enkdcht0oWfiBscDduJw5Bxdm8JgLiyAsLjFgIbRnRPK7GD8OpdXX0QBzheBmp96P47ZF8WmSsxigP7pJgJeRT7xhCSe6FBBSFwE-jTr9ijoK4Dzfn0Ld9Jyg/s320/IMG_3907.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p>Feeling that we ought to do some shopping in Paris, I marched my family the next morning in the direction of E. Dehillerin, cooking utensil supplier for over 100 years. It was an odd little place. Everything was in cardboard boxes, making it look more like a hardware shop. It wasn't quite as exciting as I'd hoped, so we drifted along the street and found the Lego store, which everyone found much more interesting.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPd8SvWyvoqiA1BSfu9RS6jgdajEcOp10_VR-sknmPW69dCB8c40zIBn90Q7vLJs3SOhX5hiTX6ev5K_3qJKBmYYQY6DoLI22sfV-oc3bgtCOz2bqCWB8szJ9wb4IIfKhoFlfYKeIgxlZjiyHRjnxeoyJBWXklixz3RA8HyKhu3RDgIp699ztLSgbRJqo/s4032/IMG_3913.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPd8SvWyvoqiA1BSfu9RS6jgdajEcOp10_VR-sknmPW69dCB8c40zIBn90Q7vLJs3SOhX5hiTX6ev5K_3qJKBmYYQY6DoLI22sfV-oc3bgtCOz2bqCWB8szJ9wb4IIfKhoFlfYKeIgxlZjiyHRjnxeoyJBWXklixz3RA8HyKhu3RDgIp699ztLSgbRJqo/s320/IMG_3913.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz1d1DZcJJqOfYRe0AOt043n-mE4mBCcm90a0tF-oxx7Z7kpInv_veJBpq_8Kdu_50ZSi4Mrgn_l3Gi-J8BoFPIhqE9wYHECEwe8vJWuabDxgcK3_uUZ_WQSHt726df_VVSQGBGHLb3lFmV1R_K2nvLSicNeBrjd9SAUcDtLL__MHoYknNde4-bNILZm4/s4032/IMG_3915.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz1d1DZcJJqOfYRe0AOt043n-mE4mBCcm90a0tF-oxx7Z7kpInv_veJBpq_8Kdu_50ZSi4Mrgn_l3Gi-J8BoFPIhqE9wYHECEwe8vJWuabDxgcK3_uUZ_WQSHt726df_VVSQGBGHLb3lFmV1R_K2nvLSicNeBrjd9SAUcDtLL__MHoYknNde4-bNILZm4/s320/IMG_3915.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj398_uV3C7B-UJc1Pas4b0z1AVXsVpeZNsDFmnmJgxjKZMokvAjKaVVU3e1C7606AmPNEjA_swyGH4Mrn-Y_6X4UrlhleFokIGx_1f8J2RJpyPaS_d9crqLm57AkuF1v2QPcUPuhqZo0Fu8pjXN15vHWJQjQsqW5p1QHZeFGCF55JGsinwBlFPMWCvzNI/s4032/IMG_3935.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj398_uV3C7B-UJc1Pas4b0z1AVXsVpeZNsDFmnmJgxjKZMokvAjKaVVU3e1C7606AmPNEjA_swyGH4Mrn-Y_6X4UrlhleFokIGx_1f8J2RJpyPaS_d9crqLm57AkuF1v2QPcUPuhqZo0Fu8pjXN15vHWJQjQsqW5p1QHZeFGCF55JGsinwBlFPMWCvzNI/s320/IMG_3935.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>On the tram the previous day, we'd passed several places selling "French tacos". I had never heard of a French taco. So when we saw somewhere selling them today, we went in and ordered them for lunch. They turned out to be toasted wraps stuffed with sliced potatoes, meat, and sauce. More like a burrito than a taco. And <i>very</i> filling. I didn't take a photo of us eating, but I did take a photo of the view upwards.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2mwyYzXc6ID3YFTWe2pBK9eHz3R4Y-4byn5SwtbgNCa2wZrot_21rZi70aeLth1GjyaY23uGSDNaPqEG2fn5au6GMwlDhLh-GfTIzyyifsjO_Jh_Po26ibVfs5RA28gWJB32y7Zw8QCqrDVO2jIUkI8_QbTFOOvYwknyXya8JV4JSBkKGCt2KqKUxBxM/s3264/IMG_5665.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2mwyYzXc6ID3YFTWe2pBK9eHz3R4Y-4byn5SwtbgNCa2wZrot_21rZi70aeLth1GjyaY23uGSDNaPqEG2fn5au6GMwlDhLh-GfTIzyyifsjO_Jh_Po26ibVfs5RA28gWJB32y7Zw8QCqrDVO2jIUkI8_QbTFOOvYwknyXya8JV4JSBkKGCt2KqKUxBxM/s320/IMG_5665.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>Amazingly, Graham and Toby found room for enormous ice creams later in the afternoon. Theo declined, and I had a small sorbet which was more than enough.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd0Wp1XghUJVBLPGC-Jy-uQZWuQJDUrTjvA_5xRuyehBnTchTXYW2Rckykp-UA83ZqBKqZdF05MqIYk-Mz59EwMV3HD7Jztt5rVfH95xvWL_ktbEZif_xO7aL4XAVqgeOQG0Dg_GOw-pRnpHYwdzU7UrzX9de1lQMHj1py4_0Cq8BLDvqiqpojkCYFK0s/s4032/IMG_3942.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd0Wp1XghUJVBLPGC-Jy-uQZWuQJDUrTjvA_5xRuyehBnTchTXYW2Rckykp-UA83ZqBKqZdF05MqIYk-Mz59EwMV3HD7Jztt5rVfH95xvWL_ktbEZif_xO7aL4XAVqgeOQG0Dg_GOw-pRnpHYwdzU7UrzX9de1lQMHj1py4_0Cq8BLDvqiqpojkCYFK0s/s320/IMG_3942.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p>On the final day I'd booked the Eurostar for about 5pm, not considering the fact that we would have to be out of the apartment by noon. Fortunately our hosts allowed us to leave the suitcases for a few extra hours. It was hot again, so we spent most of the time relaxing in the shade in the nearby park, the Bois de Vincennes (photos from the previous evening).</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4DJH0amPYG5cv3SipJZ_gX-riQUaqCLBhiGP6ZyFvqrcdwljIoAPoau3sphciPCE80r6P5GJP-MRr2NJXUu5o9C3KDCLodUCFsNt8K73TvjyKKrNSZbtHv0abBg8UBPc2sefSc2BEjvRNW5tsZYhJSPVsYHSyCuBygW9AdiczGu-XTVpE6ZuEP7aFtU/s4032/IMG_3946.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4DJH0amPYG5cv3SipJZ_gX-riQUaqCLBhiGP6ZyFvqrcdwljIoAPoau3sphciPCE80r6P5GJP-MRr2NJXUu5o9C3KDCLodUCFsNt8K73TvjyKKrNSZbtHv0abBg8UBPc2sefSc2BEjvRNW5tsZYhJSPVsYHSyCuBygW9AdiczGu-XTVpE6ZuEP7aFtU/s320/IMG_3946.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmK4niAyyIWpchlyEwTnXVuKr6RswPWUi8G-HpqruoTJ9FaQ1Gy4eDaZYqiTh8h0hCaL5VrBnhkeyF0PDXWr32cVBknAKG0Afu7U-W70rEqinupAp8PM-B0b3xp1coQiS_5LCETgNdVvjMyGUX7-ERba6A-E46YUnXlQgh19XWRsCec-nlBBhv3a0G1A4/s4032/IMG_3953.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmK4niAyyIWpchlyEwTnXVuKr6RswPWUi8G-HpqruoTJ9FaQ1Gy4eDaZYqiTh8h0hCaL5VrBnhkeyF0PDXWr32cVBknAKG0Afu7U-W70rEqinupAp8PM-B0b3xp1coQiS_5LCETgNdVvjMyGUX7-ERba6A-E46YUnXlQgh19XWRsCec-nlBBhv3a0G1A4/s320/IMG_3953.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnMKTBPD_ja-VNp41vVHlsK7Y1IAhkPS5UCpOwEPiif-o5d_Lzf0rZC3wP532cltGDZ3jjyqZzwFX1-3UVJBFrSJrJ_bnIf4ns3Vr1CBMpcwd3Bnbs5NYmegTmaRcrpIgpAsYmus-1plJMmNXFr0jwA_mVXMWcUwXZkewu2Acun-57eSGRb0L1UAHu9RQ/s4032/IMG_3972.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnMKTBPD_ja-VNp41vVHlsK7Y1IAhkPS5UCpOwEPiif-o5d_Lzf0rZC3wP532cltGDZ3jjyqZzwFX1-3UVJBFrSJrJ_bnIf4ns3Vr1CBMpcwd3Bnbs5NYmegTmaRcrpIgpAsYmus-1plJMmNXFr0jwA_mVXMWcUwXZkewu2Acun-57eSGRb0L1UAHu9RQ/s320/IMG_3972.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>A final trip on the Métro took us to Gare du Nord in plenty of time for the Eurostar. In London I'd been panicking slightly as our train from Lichfield was late; this time we knew what we were doing and it was all very relaxed. It's so nice not having to worry about quantities of liquids and sizes of hand luggage, as you do when flying. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlBRee6iBtgu3v4MCtIRBlhWJqMMISvA5qnZN3kP2shAww3RWch-27bZgoDk8e4gH7aR0LwpvmMHvUekr0E7ekLuI28h_w0-tjIF-tnRmWhyphenhyphenqTr1npLZN3eBJygNuYinsPMpsFv0ioHfzeOKHPH91S28dIETpqLlmrBa184LJGL6iOq1Q03fyT73PsLWs/s3264/IMG_5667.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlBRee6iBtgu3v4MCtIRBlhWJqMMISvA5qnZN3kP2shAww3RWch-27bZgoDk8e4gH7aR0LwpvmMHvUekr0E7ekLuI28h_w0-tjIF-tnRmWhyphenhyphenqTr1npLZN3eBJygNuYinsPMpsFv0ioHfzeOKHPH91S28dIETpqLlmrBa184LJGL6iOq1Q03fyT73PsLWs/s320/IMG_5667.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>We had an hour's wait at Euston station. The platform was announced two minutes before the train was due to depart, and as soon as it came up on the display, it seemed as if the entire station was running for our train! We squeezed ourselves onto some seats. All went well until our friend Phil picked us up at Lichfield station, when we discovered that the A38 was closed, and we had to do a reckless detour along dark country roads. It felt very late when we finally arrived home.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5_Ryz943SQPr1jyoOMHE_mWoOsgDkTJXBwBxGcX6jUa5G0TFUbtUilfQ5j44AvRIGhyRL7vQ069DGlIsc3ASpjLPHcviCPJ0O8MXFapFATMUl6ctTpJbh8nF1Afirtwh3969LPjR3l8zQH5ygbxgjyZ_LMOgZylQgGRQpXoxipvCZyRsQLwXwQ_vsr6c/s1852/IMG_5604-EDIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1852" data-original-width="1354" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5_Ryz943SQPr1jyoOMHE_mWoOsgDkTJXBwBxGcX6jUa5G0TFUbtUilfQ5j44AvRIGhyRL7vQ069DGlIsc3ASpjLPHcviCPJ0O8MXFapFATMUl6ctTpJbh8nF1Afirtwh3969LPjR3l8zQH5ygbxgjyZ_LMOgZylQgGRQpXoxipvCZyRsQLwXwQ_vsr6c/s320/IMG_5604-EDIT.jpg" width="234" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3zhRzR8d55oOoiJQiHYpYpyZeR9ySJIW4vDm5mm10gtAL4AftZ5WGaaJjAnKueUsVTJceZSHMQzH_HI6SwIUOKjtu4VzSvFVBAW3Odue_4RSDZjFfSWa_QxvWHTGwxUXawexsjn4OKwmXrFQ6jaLRFYGaFApk-D0IKv2kSoWV4ypjefYp6GTazIWCxHU/s4032/IMG_3927.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3zhRzR8d55oOoiJQiHYpYpyZeR9ySJIW4vDm5mm10gtAL4AftZ5WGaaJjAnKueUsVTJceZSHMQzH_HI6SwIUOKjtu4VzSvFVBAW3Odue_4RSDZjFfSWa_QxvWHTGwxUXawexsjn4OKwmXrFQ6jaLRFYGaFApk-D0IKv2kSoWV4ypjefYp6GTazIWCxHU/s320/IMG_3927.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-8351080374005709872023-09-20T14:59:00.010-05:002023-12-09T11:31:56.080-06:00National Forest Way: Calke Abbey to Ashby de la Zouch<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNOErI4MfFxjDVfSWMSavV1GT9QlboDFyN8bCMbbsyYEso8ZSJL6wigBU9nfuk84PN_GzFFw5x7NLbOLPZc06ofPryTqp21L33ZDVt2ODPgGRXt5P8WW7cXW5DtdEO5MfU7DLUoKan6MsW3k3_pFqJHwd0s2O-fvf_BOVczOZB4SBINWAhqpO764AXkJk/s3264/IMG_5559.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNOErI4MfFxjDVfSWMSavV1GT9QlboDFyN8bCMbbsyYEso8ZSJL6wigBU9nfuk84PN_GzFFw5x7NLbOLPZc06ofPryTqp21L33ZDVt2ODPgGRXt5P8WW7cXW5DtdEO5MfU7DLUoKan6MsW3k3_pFqJHwd0s2O-fvf_BOVczOZB4SBINWAhqpO764AXkJk/s320/IMG_5559.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>All the best walking blogs have maps on. I finally figured out how to add a route map to mine. If I get time, I'll add them to the previous posts as well, so you can see where I went. So, here are the two walks which made up the next stretch of the NFW. <br /></p><iframe height="480" src="https://www.google.com/maps/d/embed?mid=1MEhy9sjNagFdeetLApEuCJgj1P4GCsA&ehbc=2E312F&noprof=1" width="640"></iframe><h2 style="text-align: left;">Walk 1</h2><p> I started from the National Trust property and walked along by the lake, up the hill by the deer park, and down to Staunton Harold reservoir - all very familiar. Calke village postbox featured a highland cow on top.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9BaDHydzkMZuj95x_5Z0lGnlCknhs-XlqQmelTHE8XL7ZKQ7HievKRHw95nUurKZ_LK9PSrBrKd-a3I9jJRsL22p0y4JFuBlEIAIhY3A20Xx_hbBWfENFr717Z8-VWQ9JLKyD1619i8M3wMEUC94OAmYZjoEKKWXDS2Kws27LqeISm-aE_RHCaDf84ik/s3264/IMG_5553.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9BaDHydzkMZuj95x_5Z0lGnlCknhs-XlqQmelTHE8XL7ZKQ7HievKRHw95nUurKZ_LK9PSrBrKd-a3I9jJRsL22p0y4JFuBlEIAIhY3A20Xx_hbBWfENFr717Z8-VWQ9JLKyD1619i8M3wMEUC94OAmYZjoEKKWXDS2Kws27LqeISm-aE_RHCaDf84ik/s320/IMG_5553.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake at Calke Abbey<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyuQshEbgx3jL2Q3XmaeC4eVEffaw3ctluSsWTUBgcpPSw3tUt418GMdsgggGKIuhtWZYMauIxse_te3ypujWhk8TFUVZQCjL-sbBOFJEUoQBNkl71kQ-5AtsrFjk5_7lGCw5nqwuzezO3toW_wjAoizEAWDNkEQKt8CYpy9ukY9_7xEWDlDcMlOd0d4M/s3264/IMG_5557.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyuQshEbgx3jL2Q3XmaeC4eVEffaw3ctluSsWTUBgcpPSw3tUt418GMdsgggGKIuhtWZYMauIxse_te3ypujWhk8TFUVZQCjL-sbBOFJEUoQBNkl71kQ-5AtsrFjk5_7lGCw5nqwuzezO3toW_wjAoizEAWDNkEQKt8CYpy9ukY9_7xEWDlDcMlOd0d4M/s320/IMG_5557.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Herd of deer<br /></td></tr></tbody></table> <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6zar0QS1mCH4ZwXvquAMRGZdFdDvyqrGGu9GFxmdPvAklDDYKj-xkbzXthvit7OvaoxomZOqDi4t6bZckLU5H8Ld0BbxtOc61XPMU1NNKmojYYeBxGV5zxBRzeCpHUnLt2Af5q672fTZQZEak2YDWjabUeP5cN_HNb2xAIDTqq_FECij20R9K9Df5PGY/s3264/IMG_5560.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6zar0QS1mCH4ZwXvquAMRGZdFdDvyqrGGu9GFxmdPvAklDDYKj-xkbzXthvit7OvaoxomZOqDi4t6bZckLU5H8Ld0BbxtOc61XPMU1NNKmojYYeBxGV5zxBRzeCpHUnLt2Af5q672fTZQZEak2YDWjabUeP5cN_HNb2xAIDTqq_FECij20R9K9Df5PGY/s320/IMG_5560.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><p>A short stretch on the road took me to Dimminsdale, which was new to me. There are records of mining at the site from the 13th century until the end of the 19th century. It's incredible to think that people worked there for so many hundreds of years. Now it is a secluded landscape of still pools and shaggy trees.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSNjyg885Dlio_cQKxUJHjcxvUjSWh-ZSYhiFbn7pvdJL5F6WtaMoJ3XacZU8wOCaTbPH1lHsZDZTdZrf03vwmXIWcCKstPuttHf0-7NCRrsgy8mc7g0bRZlLTZ6NubGeqEOZNSrOYT8wPaCsG8QHioMa3IDT-raHnxfSOunHrSMV-2sImpFN7atSDpI4/s3264/IMG_5563.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSNjyg885Dlio_cQKxUJHjcxvUjSWh-ZSYhiFbn7pvdJL5F6WtaMoJ3XacZU8wOCaTbPH1lHsZDZTdZrf03vwmXIWcCKstPuttHf0-7NCRrsgy8mc7g0bRZlLTZ6NubGeqEOZNSrOYT8wPaCsG8QHioMa3IDT-raHnxfSOunHrSMV-2sImpFN7atSDpI4/s320/IMG_5563.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dimminsdale</td></tr></tbody></table> <p></p><p>I crossed a small section of the Staunton Harold estate, then went up a private lane with some rather nice houses. My turning point was where the National Forest Way left the lane to head across fields. Going back to the main road, I picked up a footpath across the Calke estate, which eventually led me to the main drive and back to the car park.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzxJwVLAYV1hP1MD-fxmNl6-xhnN4ko8yoKQMjSYTPEitE0N-Rn0V8F71RoWzVq1Rcqz8VpsWj5SeHFn6I69xKkYbF0Srn_zS6yR5T0LS9-NT39W7LVOOxxyfTw04XD9ZzMrEJppF4lHVDZpZPkiEGeio7AOcqOsdLNlx22HWAWjJD4PIlAEBXON5CAWg/s3264/IMG_5566.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzxJwVLAYV1hP1MD-fxmNl6-xhnN4ko8yoKQMjSYTPEitE0N-Rn0V8F71RoWzVq1Rcqz8VpsWj5SeHFn6I69xKkYbF0Srn_zS6yR5T0LS9-NT39W7LVOOxxyfTw04XD9ZzMrEJppF4lHVDZpZPkiEGeio7AOcqOsdLNlx22HWAWjJD4PIlAEBXON5CAWg/s320/IMG_5566.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calke Abbey with sheep<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /> <p></p><h2 style="text-align: left;">Walk 2</h2><p>At this point the summer holidays intervened, so I didn't get out for nearly a month. On the first Monday the kids were back at school, I was ready to go! </p><p>I parked up at Staunton Harold Hall. My first task was to cross a field of cows, but fortunately they paid me no attention. A few more fields took me to the private lane which I'd got to on the previous walk. At this point the trail managed to be the National Forest Way, the Ivanhoe Way, and the Cross Britain Way, all at the same time. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Gw0cN6qOdbxB6sAZZMvL35J8YRQxqsbdQ6nF06XW-K8_Ud1e-139Aay_t1sy-zNcSBbavB-N7yBuCZPH27UmWV-XjQjEmG6O7UGqeXg6vFs3_-0VbRY2CJuHzB_e1Rmi-4yDEk6G8D30Sp0U1ffwHY-c79vhTjZOKfBk2VutvWNnYlXlgBiDMr1neUU/s3264/IMG_5669.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Gw0cN6qOdbxB6sAZZMvL35J8YRQxqsbdQ6nF06XW-K8_Ud1e-139Aay_t1sy-zNcSBbavB-N7yBuCZPH27UmWV-XjQjEmG6O7UGqeXg6vFs3_-0VbRY2CJuHzB_e1Rmi-4yDEk6G8D30Sp0U1ffwHY-c79vhTjZOKfBk2VutvWNnYlXlgBiDMr1neUU/s320/IMG_5669.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>There was a long, fairly straight section across fields to start with. I worried it would be boring but it was actually quite pleasant. I disturbed several pheasants and passed flocks of placid sheep.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8RXwhNwjmYl3I-3bYweTsxW6Sn_ONuEA60Ohe46YuIkrMr7BT1xF1Et5cXoqeUkAkByTfCtlUzWIadHE7fwqAc1R1AMHvMoEDgw2h8loqDHNWhU3nxVQNNqrnvjlenjHW1SkEgxk-kfwPvM9XbfppvhYHmWoWBfbseAqNsCOzx-bmDZaHVwXYbuMLcSA/s1339/IMG_5677.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1036" data-original-width="1339" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8RXwhNwjmYl3I-3bYweTsxW6Sn_ONuEA60Ohe46YuIkrMr7BT1xF1Et5cXoqeUkAkByTfCtlUzWIadHE7fwqAc1R1AMHvMoEDgw2h8loqDHNWhU3nxVQNNqrnvjlenjHW1SkEgxk-kfwPvM9XbfppvhYHmWoWBfbseAqNsCOzx-bmDZaHVwXYbuMLcSA/s320/IMG_5677.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Then I passed through Park Pale Wood, with a footbridge over a mini ravine. A sign explained that the park pale was the boundary of a 12th century deer park - pale being the old word for a fence (think of palings). I spotted a beautiful rose-shaped fungus that was as big as my foot.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiVWieLJYCjuppDWtJ-rXJonKGH3JlzlOkSdYF99aO6b-sPvPIJ-KN8IHsQgqcUhncy-YNCSLgG5V6JjCImReXrQ47USKNAwelAQEXFgqBPxONf4LQ8tP82HDJKoWdbtUCAH91W6kAWLUC3s4AO0JdNFTjrVoTqoohTX7xwRo1t80H_ut6-FyqVBoAkQI/s3264/IMG_5678.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiVWieLJYCjuppDWtJ-rXJonKGH3JlzlOkSdYF99aO6b-sPvPIJ-KN8IHsQgqcUhncy-YNCSLgG5V6JjCImReXrQ47USKNAwelAQEXFgqBPxONf4LQ8tP82HDJKoWdbtUCAH91W6kAWLUC3s4AO0JdNFTjrVoTqoohTX7xwRo1t80H_ut6-FyqVBoAkQI/s320/IMG_5678.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLKfoCqmf5AUTmQskaLky8-n7tJInjYtfL_ROq_el0QkgZn6UccNdmtEWEhoLYqUwS7M2-wUBIY5lNcNMpbrD9p9f1CnRWxdCgcNlQq_7H7R2DitACgzEoH6UAzHhWTQLeFGbEZYdOgm5RXHoXNsGBqAAWWPKGQpFz2rpO8SWsiPveCLpbUCGhr5-PhLE/s3264/IMG_5683.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLKfoCqmf5AUTmQskaLky8-n7tJInjYtfL_ROq_el0QkgZn6UccNdmtEWEhoLYqUwS7M2-wUBIY5lNcNMpbrD9p9f1CnRWxdCgcNlQq_7H7R2DitACgzEoH6UAzHhWTQLeFGbEZYdOgm5RXHoXNsGBqAAWWPKGQpFz2rpO8SWsiPveCLpbUCGhr5-PhLE/s320/IMG_5683.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Just as I was thinking that I had never got lost on the NFW, I did. Slightly. The instructions told me to bear right by the waypost, but the waypost had disappeared. I knew I was heading between Eastern Old Parks Farm and Western Old Parks Farm, though, so I followed the field boundary which looked most likely, and it turned out to be right.</p><p>This is where I had intended to turn left and circle back. But it had taken less time than I expected; I'd only been walking for an hour and still had plenty of time. I decided to press on to Ashby de la Zouch.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxfJJ7Ex4qk3lZMUFf9LhNWbusBOR8YHR57fy2KKSNaj3Qms7AgsE3mIwoJ3_waPJkOEIUXEiiTjxURB3pp-02dGcJ6FMOlpVoPScZ2sDV5F5GY_gUv3-Zo5isTENbNoKNXL2AfnWHiaZjHCKqqGa76h8xL1sP_q6nMfsOWFB-VBzZHyXRWWDJ9IRSbv8/s3264/IMG_5685.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxfJJ7Ex4qk3lZMUFf9LhNWbusBOR8YHR57fy2KKSNaj3Qms7AgsE3mIwoJ3_waPJkOEIUXEiiTjxURB3pp-02dGcJ6FMOlpVoPScZ2sDV5F5GY_gUv3-Zo5isTENbNoKNXL2AfnWHiaZjHCKqqGa76h8xL1sP_q6nMfsOWFB-VBzZHyXRWWDJ9IRSbv8/s320/IMG_5685.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Biscuit truck!<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>We'd actually walked this section as a family, a few months ago. After a nice bit between a hedge and a wood, the path goes under the A511 and is sandwiched between a building site (not quite being built on yet) and a McVities factory. Further along, the path was closed because they were actually building houses, and I had to follow the road. But I made it to the information board in Ashby. There was a small area with a bench, some bright flowers, and a tree with rather cute birds in it.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZojvkzdjkC92mt4cGUKc5ukrwPvDKnOsQgm7_hpSnCWt9uCPzYD83iqo1ikjk_Th8IE7pW0GL4QqIB19yT-2sNVl6TaCZUg7WTZkAY7hdrddwiWa8WLG9ZXvDc6M59W7bTN1vsvqA9TdofCDa7VJqZK654EchU6iD4cl1Dtec3O7leYkQgJG21fPuRWI/s3264/IMG_5686.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZojvkzdjkC92mt4cGUKc5ukrwPvDKnOsQgm7_hpSnCWt9uCPzYD83iqo1ikjk_Th8IE7pW0GL4QqIB19yT-2sNVl6TaCZUg7WTZkAY7hdrddwiWa8WLG9ZXvDc6M59W7bTN1vsvqA9TdofCDa7VJqZK654EchU6iD4cl1Dtec3O7leYkQgJG21fPuRWI/s320/IMG_5686.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjArDHjH1Ab9WA8DDWNEE6Fu_JEwX_MkHeaA-W9_VdkdJCT4aIGTxCPqkF9UC0HNTvlgJbUdWJ514vgBAN9FMhrFxn5zsQdEVnALbrSzEdMuX4pNs8AwDmNco76J_n_Wu4PqMrAH5Bbzf7ViFt34KzpiVYCNivw86ppqLdIVAhYgLTLue4ymQ8P7aND8x4/s3264/IMG_5688.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjArDHjH1Ab9WA8DDWNEE6Fu_JEwX_MkHeaA-W9_VdkdJCT4aIGTxCPqkF9UC0HNTvlgJbUdWJ514vgBAN9FMhrFxn5zsQdEVnALbrSzEdMuX4pNs8AwDmNco76J_n_Wu4PqMrAH5Bbzf7ViFt34KzpiVYCNivw86ppqLdIVAhYgLTLue4ymQ8P7aND8x4/s320/IMG_5688.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Turning back, there was no good alternative to the McVities path. I couldn't believe I'd walked this very unscenic section of the NFW <i>three</i> times. Soon, though, I was cutting across another small woodland, and on to the road into Lount. This was less pleasant than I'd hoped for the first half a mile, as I trudged along an unmown verge. Once I got closer to the village there was a pavement.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIa4KgCPwaFD32UDdo_47M6y_JwEr1cBUluUzgcV5uied5KI1AuP1xAvlxUZij42R_v-uMTwh26FmThe4euQxor2Xg1BAkKGfmvE8NarTTnvH_ZTNkxzOVhD14zNwD-gvmayIBOdFsOqQXmsQHGH8EBkZRm6d8FjwqeORHuOOsDF3Fx9S-meeEwTzZOVk/s3264/IMG_5693.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIa4KgCPwaFD32UDdo_47M6y_JwEr1cBUluUzgcV5uied5KI1AuP1xAvlxUZij42R_v-uMTwh26FmThe4euQxor2Xg1BAkKGfmvE8NarTTnvH_ZTNkxzOVhD14zNwD-gvmayIBOdFsOqQXmsQHGH8EBkZRm6d8FjwqeORHuOOsDF3Fx9S-meeEwTzZOVk/s320/IMG_5693.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnD0leHPXg0ND5rlfYfiYz-u-BlGGjm-0CDhfyzgjM1fYUSmrHgkFyw1pZqj7V8dUThCW-pghwAlkpKFwFGCIpadkusTmqvC9-5R62aeHNO2A8L-2N1LqWAMnSDS7Sag1LqOK6GVg1IW-_2nhtemVSKPxV9JIGoS5ruqCL1zoUNa01q0XnvSMr3Yan4sw/s3264/IMG_5694.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnD0leHPXg0ND5rlfYfiYz-u-BlGGjm-0CDhfyzgjM1fYUSmrHgkFyw1pZqj7V8dUThCW-pghwAlkpKFwFGCIpadkusTmqvC9-5R62aeHNO2A8L-2N1LqWAMnSDS7Sag1LqOK6GVg1IW-_2nhtemVSKPxV9JIGoS5ruqCL1zoUNa01q0XnvSMr3Yan4sw/s320/IMG_5694.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I hopped over a stile next to the Ferrars Arms; hesitated a moment; then climbed back over and went into the pub to order a lemonade. I sat in the beer garden to drink it and eat my packed lunch. After that it was easy walking along a track. A painted gate signalled the entrance to the Staunton Harold estate, and I was soon back at the car.<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUMdHGsxj7lXqLaj6DIetis0UzlKA9urTii7gAFuWzEmTXjujqP8e-KgGG644eND9A_N4TGr1flr4Nk02ozH75FHEXoBnNCn1WOc3b4lIR-0o3vx0Wh5KlsURM6MkDDwuIUqIQ3PYZ8SpOOFN7MaHqhJqH15jDiLZVFQuPGqdjHByPg-UrLp69iUmDztk/s3264/IMG_5696.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUMdHGsxj7lXqLaj6DIetis0UzlKA9urTii7gAFuWzEmTXjujqP8e-KgGG644eND9A_N4TGr1flr4Nk02ozH75FHEXoBnNCn1WOc3b4lIR-0o3vx0Wh5KlsURM6MkDDwuIUqIQ3PYZ8SpOOFN7MaHqhJqH15jDiLZVFQuPGqdjHByPg-UrLp69iUmDztk/s320/IMG_5696.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNAHObjy4Y7nvGfh-xBhwzJpRFzKTGWl5Dh6o_IEt8n8PVBRUpZr_zZ-rzjJpfdfE2zmdlYokoNTk_4MoIVaaCFXSRiQ2fj3TKAOsNl8ylFeQCEidDXF4UQouiQor7ZSSkfwuftRcRZdw3yQ69a74k9NcrkoDPAKsQ3NNvnGaGAyTKlthzIzlNg-sF70k/s3264/IMG_5697.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNAHObjy4Y7nvGfh-xBhwzJpRFzKTGWl5Dh6o_IEt8n8PVBRUpZr_zZ-rzjJpfdfE2zmdlYokoNTk_4MoIVaaCFXSRiQ2fj3TKAOsNl8ylFeQCEidDXF4UQouiQor7ZSSkfwuftRcRZdw3yQ69a74k9NcrkoDPAKsQ3NNvnGaGAyTKlthzIzlNg-sF70k/s320/IMG_5697.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">church and hall at Staunton Harold<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div><p>Previous sections:</p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/08/national-forest-way-hartshorne-foremark.html">Hartshorne, Foremark, Calke Abbey </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/07/national-forest-way-overseal-to.html">Overseal - Hartshorne</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/07/national-forest-way-rosliston-to.html">Rosliston - Overseal</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/05/national-forest-way-rangemore-to.html">Rangemore - Rosliston</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/04/walking-national-forest-way-with-two.html">National Memorial Arboretum - Rangemore</a></p></div><p></p>Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-65787518028957133042023-08-29T16:41:00.000-05:002023-08-29T16:41:16.811-05:00Supercars and Selfies on the South Coast<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjBUFrLbzWpT1fL_j6SQmwXLBt9rTuIxL2Zfz0cmt9vvmGbdtL8Aq8PyxpgvZ5FmbdULHVsswWqMrrt3jsQtbeVRgGGMKkSSueLz_dFauAWFhYRZMaGqB5ENM6RI082yVKhXCM5DnYuohIURY_zMu1zswCte3d3mF2sCPQN6gECZ1j7qDDemgFJQ_2G9E/s4032/IMG_3549.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjBUFrLbzWpT1fL_j6SQmwXLBt9rTuIxL2Zfz0cmt9vvmGbdtL8Aq8PyxpgvZ5FmbdULHVsswWqMrrt3jsQtbeVRgGGMKkSSueLz_dFauAWFhYRZMaGqB5ENM6RI082yVKhXCM5DnYuohIURY_zMu1zswCte3d3mF2sCPQN6gECZ1j7qDDemgFJQ_2G9E/s320/IMG_3549.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>We drove south on a wet, wet Saturday in August. The windscreen wipers swished endlessly back and forth, as we debated whether it was worth stopping anywhere except for the overcrowded motorway services.</p><p>By the time we reached Winchester, the wipers had subsided to an occasional flick across the screen. We decided to stop. Of course, as soon as we left the car park there was a brief shower, but we ducked into the City Mill, now a National Trust property. There was a large room full of the usual kind of displays about flour milling; a recently renovated garden; and downstairs, the mill race running at full tilt. The mill is built right across the River Itchen.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYMFiBGiLtZFQdEjTIOfkS_utVIJBh0uevH5cN2i2o66RX83aURuZ6jJA_kybbHPchfcAeMhudE5_ObqYoowJBNGN_0CQsmgVB_Lzlyjtp7_XoU-HjIOKcTpXDJ-G3tIyy5liNVG447ItS59T8m1JGjOxkK145DZQZTkuiieYtXXaE6I-M3_ainYOy8Yg/s4032/IMG_3434.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYMFiBGiLtZFQdEjTIOfkS_utVIJBh0uevH5cN2i2o66RX83aURuZ6jJA_kybbHPchfcAeMhudE5_ObqYoowJBNGN_0CQsmgVB_Lzlyjtp7_XoU-HjIOKcTpXDJ-G3tIyy5liNVG447ItS59T8m1JGjOxkK145DZQZTkuiieYtXXaE6I-M3_ainYOy8Yg/s320/IMG_3434.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winchester City Mill garden</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKqyho_hvrb2ex7uE1Y7hcpLvUKcYTdUT1awMRvwO9OwY11Pbl-e41L6geyYE8DcR72AEzHfabOnqutgqqzLC0uVNqW-O7Jn9MB-DlAgc-AwSFCnFAP8yW4THA1k4iF5ELWO-CZv4MvpdyUyLU-vbNarnpMddlvwrqk2tuyb-Vi2J9WUFl49yOsSurDpU/s4032/IMG_3435.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKqyho_hvrb2ex7uE1Y7hcpLvUKcYTdUT1awMRvwO9OwY11Pbl-e41L6geyYE8DcR72AEzHfabOnqutgqqzLC0uVNqW-O7Jn9MB-DlAgc-AwSFCnFAP8yW4THA1k4iF5ELWO-CZv4MvpdyUyLU-vbNarnpMddlvwrqk2tuyb-Vi2J9WUFl49yOsSurDpU/s320/IMG_3435.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mill race</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp0XblMGNSbXspZ-MVLjRHRlvLWvOljAEwcyW_P-ISO53HwfcBvWuVjthYfx3zf232bPcvS5zS-6wNF4eHRcRFU2rgV05T9KEfRJJNNksFJDSBkJ3SclrK5sBmNhyOj6Tk-oE9ZwDA0KaV9KjiHw4M-uwbWowoLJPyRaKSE3Z2_TpLvsn-Cr_31vEQflo/s4032/IMG_3438.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp0XblMGNSbXspZ-MVLjRHRlvLWvOljAEwcyW_P-ISO53HwfcBvWuVjthYfx3zf232bPcvS5zS-6wNF4eHRcRFU2rgV05T9KEfRJJNNksFJDSBkJ3SclrK5sBmNhyOj6Tk-oE9ZwDA0KaV9KjiHw4M-uwbWowoLJPyRaKSE3Z2_TpLvsn-Cr_31vEQflo/s320/IMG_3438.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Water wheel (awaiting renovation)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>We stayed dry as we explored further into Winchester. There was even some blue sky for our selfie by the cathedral! But as we walked back to the car the rain hit us like a hose on full blast. An overhanging building provided some slight shelter, but the water was bouncing off the pavement and into our shoes.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNQjLuZsCPpaci30lHrTYAgg_THCNSNWhxwI1yaVe65oMnaVkGjEulVUyg202kqfwkcIhTBCmlk4uP8yux_DeZqg1NzTjyHhV0lCrRZoqqWzvByw0e2ApZlU-VsW82W1W2NexakOh9dGXcxb7ewGrRQHxabPl0xVksgrL8FndTF8j7pCw5pdICR6cT438/s1280/IMG_3447.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNQjLuZsCPpaci30lHrTYAgg_THCNSNWhxwI1yaVe65oMnaVkGjEulVUyg202kqfwkcIhTBCmlk4uP8yux_DeZqg1NzTjyHhV0lCrRZoqqWzvByw0e2ApZlU-VsW82W1W2NexakOh9dGXcxb7ewGrRQHxabPl0xVksgrL8FndTF8j7pCw5pdICR6cT438/s320/IMG_3447.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">by Winchester Cathedral</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_0zSJLKzWM-dAcL-9USPtWGPqjXWeH6Oo1hj77b2j2Gu6H3Wx8Cqw6YrDrhF9HlweM6jva3yzsK2dPRiQ51kIvFczz0ozXqqsHEUR9YDCqahRjJj7UdzutyKlWvpd4qtmp-c18qFoaunbvFYkXD8IzTwQO2wWdf8W1JJx3iNYwt0ZdpMZLHMWgVamNSc/s4032/IMG_3453.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_0zSJLKzWM-dAcL-9USPtWGPqjXWeH6Oo1hj77b2j2Gu6H3Wx8Cqw6YrDrhF9HlweM6jva3yzsK2dPRiQ51kIvFczz0ozXqqsHEUR9YDCqahRjJj7UdzutyKlWvpd4qtmp-c18qFoaunbvFYkXD8IzTwQO2wWdf8W1JJx3iNYwt0ZdpMZLHMWgVamNSc/s320/IMG_3453.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />It was a damp drive to our hotel in Christchurch. The room really wasn't designed to hang up so many wet garments - a heated clothes airer would have been nice! Still, we got ourselves dry, and had dinner at a nearby Toby Carvery, where a friendly but extremely overworked waiter was trying to tend to a dozen tables at once. I think someone must have been off sick.<p></p><p>Next day, we joined the crowds swarming into Beaulieu for the Supercar Weekend. Toby and Graham nearly swooned at the sight of so much automotive engineering all in one place. If I try to tell you what was there, I'll only get all the names wrong, but just imagine all the most expensive cars you've ever heard of. Theo sat in his dream car - a bright green Lamborghini.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjklGDpeuFgOR10KUC1_TM2yVQV6pQRr3gao37XOvU_AY4ZGmsX950D8QfqCdYEK861zqMXeERgSSAylBFV0huzjBm7udfgaIM6k32vOdB0XTe9vhw3EmvwxkTaHbTMglZBosCdhNnScDs9GXJsjZOOmtHJhuNbyWzHR-asX0Xc7F40tykxaih9LBRARKI/s4032/IMG_3470.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjklGDpeuFgOR10KUC1_TM2yVQV6pQRr3gao37XOvU_AY4ZGmsX950D8QfqCdYEK861zqMXeERgSSAylBFV0huzjBm7udfgaIM6k32vOdB0XTe9vhw3EmvwxkTaHbTMglZBosCdhNnScDs9GXJsjZOOmtHJhuNbyWzHR-asX0Xc7F40tykxaih9LBRARKI/s320/IMG_3470.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi399fdrFvL7dsNoYUTj1S57tTshBrEnD8Ht599H2vrr-EWDJ8i_WuQ2Df_HLUISS3m8xdTzA_NbZwizglMOxqBas0tlILg7la9CLbvEf01Va5XQ73jYUYMloeyTFphlQtGRxSey0jwa7qQX-h6o-0MyC-aJEnlutYF7hsBsixv-PtH4adkuQ95muh5gFM/s4032/IMG_3503.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi399fdrFvL7dsNoYUTj1S57tTshBrEnD8Ht599H2vrr-EWDJ8i_WuQ2Df_HLUISS3m8xdTzA_NbZwizglMOxqBas0tlILg7la9CLbvEf01Va5XQ73jYUYMloeyTFphlQtGRxSey0jwa7qQX-h6o-0MyC-aJEnlutYF7hsBsixv-PtH4adkuQ95muh5gFM/s320/IMG_3503.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilC0Y8R6EKt6GizOQFlY_GO6zr839lLKGLWKFmiunBag1FLRGMkBtk2H0pbm7eS-Kl6-IZhYcj00J0S5akDEi5d0CuSj6cDldBC2SUGkDm5kIbbsGv4zjDvyp3Ia0f72qCjdZLuA5NQyA_yY05FjGigDrminTwcVwql5auAQOtUOuuN1KLR6coI0Jli_A/s4032/IMG_3506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilC0Y8R6EKt6GizOQFlY_GO6zr839lLKGLWKFmiunBag1FLRGMkBtk2H0pbm7eS-Kl6-IZhYcj00J0S5akDEi5d0CuSj6cDldBC2SUGkDm5kIbbsGv4zjDvyp3Ia0f72qCjdZLuA5NQyA_yY05FjGigDrminTwcVwql5auAQOtUOuuN1KLR6coI0Jli_A/s320/IMG_3506.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJVyJoKkcGkzfZJfPAT65J0dbRxO86_UxhIO9hwcYBM3S1DwfL3xiBDiCUTZnVJmE9ruyFPwFk7Hx6hZu0S-X-Y1Q7bY7ABaqjaVBuOGgQH_5xNj0gRYTErckO2lfK_PIsWGkBkNykHDFgqEpjfIvVK9U2gT2zS6uKp1WOrgrcMjaoZLg40Pmd7ixhKKA/s3264/IMG_20230806_123029818.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJVyJoKkcGkzfZJfPAT65J0dbRxO86_UxhIO9hwcYBM3S1DwfL3xiBDiCUTZnVJmE9ruyFPwFk7Hx6hZu0S-X-Y1Q7bY7ABaqjaVBuOGgQH_5xNj0gRYTErckO2lfK_PIsWGkBkNykHDFgqEpjfIvVK9U2gT2zS6uKp1WOrgrcMjaoZLg40Pmd7ixhKKA/s320/IMG_20230806_123029818.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>Fortunately for me, there was someone else there who preferred books.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSxGd3bO8tZsN3ldEuZau7Y9aZWKL8oQ2D0ACRnxWWIc8t9UPcb-uMnOiFHyh214ilxrewr0yMc4BkK5lBvZRVP94NDjx4w6hCPyk6PurrDpoppW6OFjCcoJE9ZAQ2mMNsOIeVQiH2DsOzXmGT6i6repmRphiQOwJ1rpwDYaGEOLb6uXJNFa1omOOcugc/s2562/IMG_20230806_144243999-EDIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2562" data-original-width="1429" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSxGd3bO8tZsN3ldEuZau7Y9aZWKL8oQ2D0ACRnxWWIc8t9UPcb-uMnOiFHyh214ilxrewr0yMc4BkK5lBvZRVP94NDjx4w6hCPyk6PurrDpoppW6OFjCcoJE9ZAQ2mMNsOIeVQiH2DsOzXmGT6i6repmRphiQOwJ1rpwDYaGEOLb6uXJNFa1omOOcugc/s320/IMG_20230806_144243999-EDIT.jpg" width="178" /></a></div><p>Later we ate fish and chips at Highcliffe, and walked along the beach in the most gorgeous evening light. Toby tried to dodge waves, but they were too quick for him. He got wet feet again.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmedKJEfBbkXqCvejGj7Qamk4aZ7mwebsm4MpELfxuPrsJC92jMHJWaPqp4S6E_WJcOhffLniX0ZFxZu-1C1PiZuM2fREQEud-bkhntR0VtZfZp-KfyKU0__f2nEcnK_H47AkOCZiN_yWOLlWvN_34Lv8iOX7NM22L139-OUP4KGMzG2Z6qugqpuX3q74/s4032/IMG_3572.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmedKJEfBbkXqCvejGj7Qamk4aZ7mwebsm4MpELfxuPrsJC92jMHJWaPqp4S6E_WJcOhffLniX0ZFxZu-1C1PiZuM2fREQEud-bkhntR0VtZfZp-KfyKU0__f2nEcnK_H47AkOCZiN_yWOLlWvN_34Lv8iOX7NM22L139-OUP4KGMzG2Z6qugqpuX3q74/s320/IMG_3572.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJwsOL8aDSXMff6RKV1OEI9pxwajPwt7BBDXMPVPUwaxpFCWPZRTxD8wpAA2NcYOdgXNByfTuSDo8QcVbnJJFwXGbyrjaD8BPOj5yCfs7NBXCbD300E8kC-a_6we9THQpstqJ6nSHNjCef-xTQbf8K9IzfaoZePCe745Ppa2h2qqcwd3MkW_6UMdZ4idE/s4032/IMG_3573.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJwsOL8aDSXMff6RKV1OEI9pxwajPwt7BBDXMPVPUwaxpFCWPZRTxD8wpAA2NcYOdgXNByfTuSDo8QcVbnJJFwXGbyrjaD8BPOj5yCfs7NBXCbD300E8kC-a_6we9THQpstqJ6nSHNjCef-xTQbf8K9IzfaoZePCe745Ppa2h2qqcwd3MkW_6UMdZ4idE/s320/IMG_3573.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgho2I6ZtLqridr8t9v180fE7vyHYveFou3kbH8a-cWp4zV7wF0I1iv4XImdT9C5-ABvUPEeVt3JNFVlY2LcdmWrELIIllmSJ89diDHkXHY3erXCLQEu6dBawXjwShIIjKxeEwMCkKsx3a5lyvAzUmDYnPWHs9zCIX7_F4nlqLyRNpwDvoXQRShKo2Z2nQ/s4032/IMG_3598.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgho2I6ZtLqridr8t9v180fE7vyHYveFou3kbH8a-cWp4zV7wF0I1iv4XImdT9C5-ABvUPEeVt3JNFVlY2LcdmWrELIIllmSJ89diDHkXHY3erXCLQEu6dBawXjwShIIjKxeEwMCkKsx3a5lyvAzUmDYnPWHs9zCIX7_F4nlqLyRNpwDvoXQRShKo2Z2nQ/s320/IMG_3598.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>On our final day we drove to Milford-on-Sea, where we'd <a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2020/09/sunsets-by-sea-swift-visit-to-lymington.html">previously enjoyed</a> the beach and the view of the Needles. We hadn't made it to Hurst Castle on that visit, so that was our destination for today. It's right at the end of a shingle spit. Shingle isn't the nicest stuff to walk on, but it was a pleasant enough amble in the morning sunshine.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5dgwAm67x0xmv5qa3kdWyUf8HXTRb21rCy9ZA5VPjBhxXFbBY4FaBamL6A1Ef2vbcZhseV6rrXLyKpnXOIYH4lRNagTzzsOPJ_-S9R025ccuI2J0csqsDhilMJGeiJ0oArBwxLHrD5aafN-DIkkFdSK8F4O_41VP_xNGKFdHqQt8I2CqKH-XJgX1RD9g/s4032/IMG_3604.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5dgwAm67x0xmv5qa3kdWyUf8HXTRb21rCy9ZA5VPjBhxXFbBY4FaBamL6A1Ef2vbcZhseV6rrXLyKpnXOIYH4lRNagTzzsOPJ_-S9R025ccuI2J0csqsDhilMJGeiJ0oArBwxLHrD5aafN-DIkkFdSK8F4O_41VP_xNGKFdHqQt8I2CqKH-XJgX1RD9g/s320/IMG_3604.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><p>Hurst Castle was definitely built for fortification, not for looks. The original fort was established by Henry VIII in 1544. In the centuries since then, every time the fear of invasion loomed, the castle got a few more bits added. A couple of lighthouses were plonked nearby as well. One was actually in the castle, but the lighthouse keepers had to have their own separate entrance. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI4oxhYOpQXuqW5006lTndfrIOXfCuoBNYQJAE1ZPsVbMMsMDymJbWzJziZwJDVamAHmRX84O7_pm9T-hmUzEMKL_rFLLOYIPFGV3MIoopteAZ0iIxEOj59rzrfndc4kXCkutmsK9uh0I4KM-VY_X8Uzu4uhPI3-MMlpFA38M7vZtM7eL-IsRztuxM2Nc/s4032/IMG_3614.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI4oxhYOpQXuqW5006lTndfrIOXfCuoBNYQJAE1ZPsVbMMsMDymJbWzJziZwJDVamAHmRX84O7_pm9T-hmUzEMKL_rFLLOYIPFGV3MIoopteAZ0iIxEOj59rzrfndc4kXCkutmsK9uh0I4KM-VY_X8Uzu4uhPI3-MMlpFA38M7vZtM7eL-IsRztuxM2Nc/s320/IMG_3614.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>Sadly, the shingle beach which used to protect the castle's seaward side has washed away. Part of the castle wall collapsed in 2021. English Heritage is doing its best to protect the remains, but you do have to wonder how much money and rock they can throw at it, before conceding to the power of the sea.</p><p>For now, the sea was being very well-behaved. But it was time for us to head inland once more. It was a long journey home, but at least the windscreen wipers got a rest this time.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbAJjjwrZXXAPvxS6fc1QPfVl0FvAzozzMW7i8gJo3EwGCxI7Yom1FyXiatSWT4KA0Aq104VP9VnIrfpvfdeiDidWWpA_sJgBN3lCU7J_qLDl3_wXQPZ8xZbrPFgHCVt1L-u4e8SYnQ8HKEauy0wIoZKkj0vtE6XSEo9OBa6tcSnnlX86smFSHPZMXVvk/s4032/IMG_3618.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbAJjjwrZXXAPvxS6fc1QPfVl0FvAzozzMW7i8gJo3EwGCxI7Yom1FyXiatSWT4KA0Aq104VP9VnIrfpvfdeiDidWWpA_sJgBN3lCU7J_qLDl3_wXQPZ8xZbrPFgHCVt1L-u4e8SYnQ8HKEauy0wIoZKkj0vtE6XSEo9OBa6tcSnnlX86smFSHPZMXVvk/s320/IMG_3618.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p>Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-10482574214880262322023-08-15T04:33:00.006-05:002023-08-15T04:33:44.917-05:00Reading for Spiritual Formation 2023-24<p>I wasn't sure whether to read another set of theology books this year. Could the time I spend on it be better spent on something else? At what point does it become reading for the sake of it, without having much impact on my wider life? It's difficult to tell.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAeZrpk7t8ZOAjeJxrWwI5gAPL9tc25jkZTvSZs2I8aaSkldazSLi-gH46D564mNuOPKbdr7uJUSdihAIGOFY5-FaGZm-_4wcB4GOHjcU7_-AKP7cA-yZ-QOswPfNQnPUPHGCRSEXCHSoncd2vs1gJZuaeVxx23P2zJqXJq-EWc6y3R6hETu0j_OQTDrU/s853/books-752657_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="821" data-original-width="853" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAeZrpk7t8ZOAjeJxrWwI5gAPL9tc25jkZTvSZs2I8aaSkldazSLi-gH46D564mNuOPKbdr7uJUSdihAIGOFY5-FaGZm-_4wcB4GOHjcU7_-AKP7cA-yZ-QOswPfNQnPUPHGCRSEXCHSoncd2vs1gJZuaeVxx23P2zJqXJq-EWc6y3R6hETu0j_OQTDrU/s320/books-752657_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>However, as usual, I had a growing list of books I wanted to read. I do need to think about what I'm doing as well as what I'm reading, and I don't expect to continue this specific discipline indefinitely. But I decided there was space for at least one more year of Reading for Spiritual Formation.</p><p>So, without further soul-searching: The Books.</p><h2 style="text-align: left;"><i>Three Mile an Hour God<br /></i>Kosuke Koyama</h2><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg--hTmbW81K78AldmuIyPA7rrmDEFHGiRmZUaTomG5GJH5OCHgRIC_FnFcoZAt_oPtDIe8_3Jhe5RwybuJtVKqf00BTqVEVDZ5KnlluGbBW15r_Aus92UDl4GreMZur5U4d1vLB6X2F7HAPBTB2-6TBpSCQOjstToeN1EIT2mnmB5VJbZ9wFS4WdbQMzk/s2601/three%20mph%20god.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2601" data-original-width="1656" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg--hTmbW81K78AldmuIyPA7rrmDEFHGiRmZUaTomG5GJH5OCHgRIC_FnFcoZAt_oPtDIe8_3Jhe5RwybuJtVKqf00BTqVEVDZ5KnlluGbBW15r_Aus92UDl4GreMZur5U4d1vLB6X2F7HAPBTB2-6TBpSCQOjstToeN1EIT2mnmB5VJbZ9wFS4WdbQMzk/s320/three%20mph%20god.jpg" width="204" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>Japanese theologians are few and far between; Christianity is still very much a niche religion in Japan. Kosuke Koyama was Japanese and appears to be both influential and accessible. Not every theologian is both! So I'm excited to read his recently republished book <i>Three Mile an Hour God. </i>It was originally written in 1979, and is a series of reflections based around the idea that God goes slowly. At walking pace, in fact. About three miles an hour.</div><div><br /></div><h2 style="text-align: left;"><i>The Interior Castle<br /></i>St Teresa of Avila</h2><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibopXLfiZaFAaWviQRRmyqM0H9HAOkNqvQ3p8uXu3XSa6KepEcpLvf2p-oJgfZ5aJvmODxCV-nbxgcNiXO0oQr3VVFmu_d0eBXmj796m0nFdUPbSbQkrWIyJJnszrb_ynKbzmHXvsuB0oA1l3Lkn_rIrJ6Twd6PU5VvZxGCNs9sbd6uBDpeMS-F3HeKZo/s450/interior%20castle.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="298" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibopXLfiZaFAaWviQRRmyqM0H9HAOkNqvQ3p8uXu3XSa6KepEcpLvf2p-oJgfZ5aJvmODxCV-nbxgcNiXO0oQr3VVFmu_d0eBXmj796m0nFdUPbSbQkrWIyJJnszrb_ynKbzmHXvsuB0oA1l3Lkn_rIrJ6Twd6PU5VvZxGCNs9sbd6uBDpeMS-F3HeKZo/s320/interior%20castle.jpeg" width="212" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>This is a classic of the contemplative tradition. St Teresa of Avila was a 16th-century Spanish nun. She set up several new convents, and experienced visions and raptures which supported her faith. <i>The Interior Castle</i> speaks of the soul being like a castle with seven courts, with God in the central one. There have been many English translations of the book since it came out in 1588. This one by E. Allison Peers seems to be well-respected, and hopefully readable.</div><div><br /></div><h2 style="text-align: left;"><i>A Place at the Table: Faith, Hope and Hospitality</i><br />Miranda Harris and Jo Swinney</h2><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiFtjm2AscUWHzYVLi6LAYCdRArd3wS8knqnqRQv1q8mI2y70zGVtwtStxf8jZ4CAfF6RhT3_XB4v2vF7dGiGUSxoIqXwQLmCik7AeVCCNnBtTm7BS-bvt9TbXawIBsHnuKcJOO2iAyjDfVdIMjEUXSIzAa6h_E5MGtqHSTvZxFfpVXeEAmUyJFGb29jc/s500/place%20at%20the%20table.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="313" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiFtjm2AscUWHzYVLi6LAYCdRArd3wS8knqnqRQv1q8mI2y70zGVtwtStxf8jZ4CAfF6RhT3_XB4v2vF7dGiGUSxoIqXwQLmCik7AeVCCNnBtTm7BS-bvt9TbXawIBsHnuKcJOO2iAyjDfVdIMjEUXSIzAa6h_E5MGtqHSTvZxFfpVXeEAmUyJFGb29jc/s320/place%20at%20the%20table.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>In 1983, Miranda and Peter Harris founded the Christian conservation charity <a href="https://arocha.org/en/">A Rocha</a> in Portugal. Gathering around a table for a meal was part of the charity's ethos, helped along by Miranda's hospitable nature. Her family kept telling her she should write a book about it, but they didn't think she had ever found time to.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sadly, Miranda and two others died in a car crash in 2019. When her daughter Jo was clearing out her mum's study, she found a folder full of notes for the long-awaited book. Jo made it her mission to bring Miranda's book to print. <i>A Place at the Table</i> is the collaborative result. I'm looking forward to reading their reflections on conservation, hospitality, and the Christian faith.</div><div><br /></div><h2 style="text-align: left;"><i>The Twelve Steps of Humility and Pride</i> and <i>On Loving God</i><br />Bernard of Clairvaux</h2><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnwfXgRuSK6LRs2Hp6uODSgKfLTb7KRcfrhdzqOwJtlxylW0ki1WArT8EiNY80tmEnBvUjqsstyCZSkr7rdY_rOARoe3x3SjZSld9EGRfpDIfzTcJ9W2qVVVSQR2QBI4paHHd2YXFdwMfZW3JRZLohL3zXAR9pkLpNCzZr2lZ-B1n_PxQ7PzULLro-n_k/s346/twelve%20steps.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="346" data-original-width="215" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnwfXgRuSK6LRs2Hp6uODSgKfLTb7KRcfrhdzqOwJtlxylW0ki1WArT8EiNY80tmEnBvUjqsstyCZSkr7rdY_rOARoe3x3SjZSld9EGRfpDIfzTcJ9W2qVVVSQR2QBI4paHHd2YXFdwMfZW3JRZLohL3zXAR9pkLpNCzZr2lZ-B1n_PxQ7PzULLro-n_k/s320/twelve%20steps.jpeg" width="199" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>Born in 1090, Bernard of Clairvaux was highly influential in the church in the twelfth century. He was an abbot in the Cistercian order of monks, founding an abbey at Clairvaux in France, and travelling widely to help resolve disputes within the church. I don't know much about him or his writings, but if he's still being quoted a thousand years later, he must have something good to say.</div><div><br /></div><h2 style="text-align: left;"><i>At the Gates: Disability, Justice and the Churches</i><br />Naomi Lawson Jacobs and Emily Richardson</h2><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic-gM6coYpwer23H9_OC8F3RifBKioBidcfE7YV0029TU5xHl9MsmKyE70711eKkIxtG8FacJPOe_FclGDdA0qPhynHYChlBlnEf040zSrJGdWHuntZFbH9FGDjl6pcR_R9Gg4QZa6CQCYHoINpWg0K9wEJg-G9dHFVSDT3Pp5T49AIg_aZoCSAlfkglw/s442/At+The+Gates+jacket+copy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="442" data-original-width="300" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic-gM6coYpwer23H9_OC8F3RifBKioBidcfE7YV0029TU5xHl9MsmKyE70711eKkIxtG8FacJPOe_FclGDdA0qPhynHYChlBlnEf040zSrJGdWHuntZFbH9FGDjl6pcR_R9Gg4QZa6CQCYHoINpWg0K9wEJg-G9dHFVSDT3Pp5T49AIg_aZoCSAlfkglw/s320/At+The+Gates+jacket+copy.jpg" width="217" /></a></div><br /><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>At the Gates</i> is based on a decade of research by Naomi Lawson Jacobs. It shares stories from disabled Christians, who have often felt unheard and overlooked in churches, and calls for "justice, equality and access to churches for disabled Christians" (from <a href="https://naomilawsonjacobs.com/at-the-gates-disability-justice-and-the-churches/">Naomi's website</a>). I expect this will be challenging but important reading.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">As usual, I'll be reading these over an academic year, from September to July. I'll post a blog when I finish each book. Your thoughts are welcome!</div>Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-27960053361636922142023-08-09T06:22:00.004-05:002023-10-15T13:33:12.658-05:00National Forest Way: Hartshorne, Foremark, Calke Abbey<p>At Blackfordby the National Forest Way is barely two miles from Ashby-de-la-Zouch, but it then takes a big loop northwards to take in the area around Ticknall village. This is somewhat unnecessary for me, since Foremark Reservoir and Calke Abbey are my local territory. That's where we go when we just want a quick family outing. It's a pretty part of the world though - rolling fields and occasional sweeping views. Always worth another visit.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Ze31uoyJoKuO7FsOh8T9F-Pwj6VMcXtZV0kUP4xh6_4FyP4lwSaXeo0MfYi8Hlh8duUCUnMk1XbguWz_pftOTMfXyH4VKJc0rgD-ef14deHEJGd86oScHDjy_FQz5ckdYBO0XULbmKopbD9oxwd8bFhfGf9YVd1EjsVvhR5IGWdUOziYb6fSpIOyaFk/s3264/IMG_20230729_083338065.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Ze31uoyJoKuO7FsOh8T9F-Pwj6VMcXtZV0kUP4xh6_4FyP4lwSaXeo0MfYi8Hlh8duUCUnMk1XbguWz_pftOTMfXyH4VKJc0rgD-ef14deHEJGd86oScHDjy_FQz5ckdYBO0XULbmKopbD9oxwd8bFhfGf9YVd1EjsVvhR5IGWdUOziYb6fSpIOyaFk/s320/IMG_20230729_083338065.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">view near Ticknall</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><iframe src="https://www.google.com/maps/d/embed?mid=1fQ9_z1SHV7TsEiCk2wrZJRvsGOMf_PI&ehbc=2E312F&noprof=1" width="640" height="480"></iframe><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: left;">Walk 1</h2><div>I parked in Hartshorne with a big black cloud lurking ominously in the west. Sure enough, just as I reached an open field, the rain came hammering down. This was my first proper soaking of the entire Way. I squelched through the woods in Carvers Rocks nature reserve, which are still nice even in the rain, and followed the path next to Foremark Reservoir. Just as I reached the car park and cafe, the sun came out. Sailing dinghies went merrily to and fro on the lake. All was right with the world.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBdHWEIDG0ba8H1QnGcDS2bl8JgCqcYLT8PC9yM0KS8C2bk15mDaeZB3dqO9Ijof-bZU0WdVxMJ65g8KsRHLcORTneOvxHXxz0dDqB43EjTkvhjP5w4xjy7x3pcmjDU2EnifIuxdWeMD81n3jLfoP7zwC8NYcgm4XKyaNzexDQXDL2nOFY6PwczmIEyRw/s3264/IMG_5537.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBdHWEIDG0ba8H1QnGcDS2bl8JgCqcYLT8PC9yM0KS8C2bk15mDaeZB3dqO9Ijof-bZU0WdVxMJ65g8KsRHLcORTneOvxHXxz0dDqB43EjTkvhjP5w4xjy7x3pcmjDU2EnifIuxdWeMD81n3jLfoP7zwC8NYcgm4XKyaNzexDQXDL2nOFY6PwczmIEyRw/s320/IMG_5537.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">wet woods</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio2wrmBBUGOCA8bGDDdRz8IpG0Iij9Cw9xvJVvvRsMy7og8wLmpZ3yZN0N8fdT7qiqrwjiyTFZenX4UeEJDFZsyktHRPtOU6h1cJyayrVH_F6d8D-ccXVQo5YseEf9Y9YXeiIpSWY1CIr1MUm9qO6lt9QSRsNT3_WeegZ2utK5Wn2jaDfuEte3u7t0M0g/s3264/IMG_5538.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio2wrmBBUGOCA8bGDDdRz8IpG0Iij9Cw9xvJVvvRsMy7og8wLmpZ3yZN0N8fdT7qiqrwjiyTFZenX4UeEJDFZsyktHRPtOU6h1cJyayrVH_F6d8D-ccXVQo5YseEf9Y9YXeiIpSWY1CIr1MUm9qO6lt9QSRsNT3_WeegZ2utK5Wn2jaDfuEte3u7t0M0g/s320/IMG_5538.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carvers Rocks</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6m15nUrJf4zT1LVaRhiDofGr27dlpBzh9SJn-a8H3qvrNHL7F-J3czO_Lv48L_3YsNxwLPyt8z8Giw22ixF0pEo9p1MrL4WGrkzXWYy2f-uyiHtpjhmoO_f3DCkljD1z9B2jVE7CFcfFUC2q2Dbg_oUVRHuqYSHc9b4nEFM2sdUG21O0ziuoJ8MQOE9M/s3264/IMG_5540.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6m15nUrJf4zT1LVaRhiDofGr27dlpBzh9SJn-a8H3qvrNHL7F-J3czO_Lv48L_3YsNxwLPyt8z8Giw22ixF0pEo9p1MrL4WGrkzXWYy2f-uyiHtpjhmoO_f3DCkljD1z9B2jVE7CFcfFUC2q2Dbg_oUVRHuqYSHc9b4nEFM2sdUG21O0ziuoJ8MQOE9M/s320/IMG_5540.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sailing on Foremark reservoir<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Swinging my sodden jacket, I skipped (well, almost) back down the long straight bridlepath to the southern end of the reservoir. From there I returned along the same path I'd come up on. There was a very enjoyable view as I dropped back down the hill into Hartshorne. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjEAlMJQ0PsdiAiiGUrnSHa0JFChDKCW5OoqJ56lWz9yHIWh8bNIACIlGD8CbWrzIo1uEb4N6reg0oeom4E_ujFN1_w6oSZxEFPw1nZC8fl40IfWyYrsX3Kvr4EwQD2K3qslrYilbzDbWe7ksB34WwmAo41puhUHdJf9GP5AUndya3Zhp2P73r0vGF0QU/s3264/IMG_5543.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjEAlMJQ0PsdiAiiGUrnSHa0JFChDKCW5OoqJ56lWz9yHIWh8bNIACIlGD8CbWrzIo1uEb4N6reg0oeom4E_ujFN1_w6oSZxEFPw1nZC8fl40IfWyYrsX3Kvr4EwQD2K3qslrYilbzDbWe7ksB34WwmAo41puhUHdJf9GP5AUndya3Zhp2P73r0vGF0QU/s320/IMG_5543.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">view north</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj94ceJK5Hwe14TTilW5zdbWRwEIhrB22NGtDIoeFiwyewDtvmTfASs1uQdG8Q34lmu4fxT1DqpM_I3i2AvEQNYYeXUIB3xnUiI49lZrXe4tEFYCXxS9e1KO9AuuQVRXfxa4ynHhED6D8sNhfQkzwNUl44dP5v86_jWq3npA2Si884lg5qqYT9u-UHTMyA/s3264/IMG_5546.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj94ceJK5Hwe14TTilW5zdbWRwEIhrB22NGtDIoeFiwyewDtvmTfASs1uQdG8Q34lmu4fxT1DqpM_I3i2AvEQNYYeXUIB3xnUiI49lZrXe4tEFYCXxS9e1KO9AuuQVRXfxa4ynHhED6D8sNhfQkzwNUl44dP5v86_jWq3npA2Si884lg5qqYT9u-UHTMyA/s320/IMG_5546.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">view south</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: left;">Walk 2</h2><div>According to both the website and the sign at the entrance, Foremark Reservoir opens at 8am. I arrived at ten past eight to be on the safe side. The gate was still shut. I drove on to Ticknall and parked in the village hall car park, which left me in the peculiar position of leaving the car halfway along my walk. So I started by walking back to Foremark.</div><br /><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbBYcyPRxHFDJk99RBA1Dlhd17xcOxHneAlv2FhlNHzUrWmbUXOr4OhkI3XPdFnTxq-VzVR0ML4jTOfPSzueZeHlL85jvTkzcn0EXsrpY81NSk9wAMpDsvW0e_rKiyXlTJlMvoY8-RhSNvXTJDKjDNhUqDcEG7GLmWnQCmi7zF0MQfFYbwdUa3mG2mWJk/s3264/IMG_20230729_083303646.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbBYcyPRxHFDJk99RBA1Dlhd17xcOxHneAlv2FhlNHzUrWmbUXOr4OhkI3XPdFnTxq-VzVR0ML4jTOfPSzueZeHlL85jvTkzcn0EXsrpY81NSk9wAMpDsvW0e_rKiyXlTJlMvoY8-RhSNvXTJDKjDNhUqDcEG7GLmWnQCmi7zF0MQfFYbwdUa3mG2mWJk/s320/IMG_20230729_083303646.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sunny footpath</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div>When I arrived at ten to nine, the gate was <i>still</i> shut. This time, I smugly squeezed past the waiting cars and carried on up the drive. I had the place to myself; it was great. A green woodpecker flew across the road in front of me and settled in a pine tree. I reached the car park and took a selfie. Seconds later, the first cars disturbed the peace.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Do8EzURhnH25lekMUHwex81gltgAzNg-xuGCr4yJwVHHkWdgLuBb7LC78tb_9gvog9ni-f1r38eLZZmy2wNS7wgu6sVSDqGu7dFwkGInG6o_XNHKROx1aishoByP6pKSxB51dBtcMDRIblJa3IoXkD7F3_hLL7es-PaTB__FJIB2EFW1jsOQZz7dn00/s2592/IMG_20230729_085651822.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1952" data-original-width="2592" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Do8EzURhnH25lekMUHwex81gltgAzNg-xuGCr4yJwVHHkWdgLuBb7LC78tb_9gvog9ni-f1r38eLZZmy2wNS7wgu6sVSDqGu7dFwkGInG6o_XNHKROx1aishoByP6pKSxB51dBtcMDRIblJa3IoXkD7F3_hLL7es-PaTB__FJIB2EFW1jsOQZz7dn00/s320/IMG_20230729_085651822.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Foremark reservoir to myself</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div>There wasn't any kind of alternative route back to Ticknall, so I retraced my steps along the NFW. When I started my walks earlier in the year, the first bluebells were just appearing; now the blackberries are starting to ripen. I like the feeling of walking through the seasons.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq4Du6Z2QjYPLmqB3qxiYmxC_EliWqOYI3MHdbA_ccswCC3Gdc-6IAO4pyJAwi76RSaSu9VlSu6AP2TT-xPRvYYlOpF0bhADJoHWjTsi_QXkBS1Iq5wy0kAaV82ryrjg28EgOSG4RvB7oM1ennRsSpHYlwTiI-XXG6LCR7xvjdo0bjjxhA6NOUY2CxmVw/s3264/IMG_20230729_092409872.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq4Du6Z2QjYPLmqB3qxiYmxC_EliWqOYI3MHdbA_ccswCC3Gdc-6IAO4pyJAwi76RSaSu9VlSu6AP2TT-xPRvYYlOpF0bhADJoHWjTsi_QXkBS1Iq5wy0kAaV82ryrjg28EgOSG4RvB7oM1ennRsSpHYlwTiI-XXG6LCR7xvjdo0bjjxhA6NOUY2CxmVw/s320/IMG_20230729_092409872.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>Crossing the main road in Ticknall, I was soon in the Calke estate, following a well-surfaced cycle path. The sheep were so used to people that they didn't bother to get up even when I was practically treading on their hooves. </div><div><br /></div><div>Calke has some awesome trees. Some would take six people to reach around them; others could have three people standing inside them. Many have fallen over and been left where they lie, to be climbed on by generations of small children. Calke Abbey is now run by the National Trust, who provide plenty of other activities for children to do, too. I passed some kind of treasure hunt marked out by purple butterflies. Then I stumbled over a giant xylophone in the cafe courtyard.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOztrIT51SeFPZ_YbssiigOfF_IgiP81rar9xiLtcR_gbM0XOAcW15X4k7pp6DMEReN8PqXgJVB9oZbpyqidhyz9BZexti-ZYgkxxE9QLg2kQysvCQIyVw2-bnTCsnnhYJeRI8I_-PrQpLhoGASJ2CpuoQZhvJD2tKsCbYXZ-cVVHzNJl_UOUKOr6-kA4/s3264/IMG_20230729_095811672.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOztrIT51SeFPZ_YbssiigOfF_IgiP81rar9xiLtcR_gbM0XOAcW15X4k7pp6DMEReN8PqXgJVB9oZbpyqidhyz9BZexti-ZYgkxxE9QLg2kQysvCQIyVw2-bnTCsnnhYJeRI8I_-PrQpLhoGASJ2CpuoQZhvJD2tKsCbYXZ-cVVHzNJl_UOUKOr6-kA4/s320/IMG_20230729_095811672.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">hollow tree</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjycTaqDej7X75Hubdw5Hh4eukSYGNc672IJStOKfXpfCXdlLYVJcHA2wiSUBYy_42HhOJlR0pvbPzDQ1dr2aTcnrStJK4Vzvgrfj7ZJI1bQHob0InpceYVsSxBgtHPTUG8c-U2wwVIjAntgc9-AIpqfVWsuucoAi4h0HSZhbHfijoRNUVsK5cgYvaCMyI/s3264/IMG_20230729_100608838.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjycTaqDej7X75Hubdw5Hh4eukSYGNc672IJStOKfXpfCXdlLYVJcHA2wiSUBYy_42HhOJlR0pvbPzDQ1dr2aTcnrStJK4Vzvgrfj7ZJI1bQHob0InpceYVsSxBgtHPTUG8c-U2wwVIjAntgc9-AIpqfVWsuucoAi4h0HSZhbHfijoRNUVsK5cgYvaCMyI/s320/IMG_20230729_100608838.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">giant xylophone</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div>I'd half-promised myself a drink at the cafe, but time was getting short, so I thought I'd better head home. There'd be another opportunity at the start of the next walk. </div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-MbJEs2Q4gGMFItYBfiOaIQE6t8cfcqW5F_aRu7FluiWql6brvhKekRaR4ODc_v17jK32pMXg9xpbOfjmrkLw8c8AkE_rdb26NzwZPwkFngw6shbzrZ4aUtmzZBJgLj87Jl08laNTLdmkMvBVeFTDD3da1YCe0YUSC5mspmEsK3rxxFvPk7MBBl27y0g/s3264/IMG_20230729_103149636.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-MbJEs2Q4gGMFItYBfiOaIQE6t8cfcqW5F_aRu7FluiWql6brvhKekRaR4ODc_v17jK32pMXg9xpbOfjmrkLw8c8AkE_rdb26NzwZPwkFngw6shbzrZ4aUtmzZBJgLj87Jl08laNTLdmkMvBVeFTDD3da1YCe0YUSC5mspmEsK3rxxFvPk7MBBl27y0g/s320/IMG_20230729_103149636.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><p>Previous sections:</p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/07/national-forest-way-overseal-to.html">Overseal - Hartshorne</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/07/national-forest-way-rosliston-to.html">Rosliston - Overseal</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/05/national-forest-way-rangemore-to.html">Rangemore - Rosliston</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/04/walking-national-forest-way-with-two.html">National Memorial Arboretum - Rangemore</a></p></div>Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-54966482504264853242023-07-26T10:25:00.001-05:002023-10-15T14:10:39.993-05:00National Forest Way: Overseal to Hartshorne<p>This section took me past Conkers outdoor activity centre, an 11th-century spring, and a herd of alpacas. I entered Leicestershire several times, and promptly left again. Although the weather forecast threatened a soaking, I escaped with only a few light showers.<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilTqEgSkPMMrB5eCBecNgvnKtSm58YJw5bQf0y0c1b7LIOh0yTwzkZoP3yLGi9Tif3j1_bZZlxHelfqLxq03rwPKqGVhp-6I5-E0kJkZuISoTanKoEYu13G4OIDY4tQCwZz6qd58zGjb2VDH8l4HRPMlma7AMDVCShIKrsZfhWTA9QfPiuT-Xw4LgujV4/s3264/IMG_5498.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilTqEgSkPMMrB5eCBecNgvnKtSm58YJw5bQf0y0c1b7LIOh0yTwzkZoP3yLGi9Tif3j1_bZZlxHelfqLxq03rwPKqGVhp-6I5-E0kJkZuISoTanKoEYu13G4OIDY4tQCwZz6qd58zGjb2VDH8l4HRPMlma7AMDVCShIKrsZfhWTA9QfPiuT-Xw4LgujV4/s320/IMG_5498.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p><iframe src="https://www.google.com/maps/d/embed?mid=1XSVF_x3Bp0BeUalmOm2PyUHYa5Y472E&ehbc=2E312F&noprof=1" width="640" height="480"></iframe><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: left;">Walk One</h2><div>I parked by the village hall in Overseal. It boasts some top-notch public toilets next door, although I was confused by the sign on them. Who plays golf in a public convenience?</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJJF9LQGwmMeIFBxFAaNYA2yNUAEplg6UaGjRcfRRU11nIlWNbsXK1F07bKIa_JDl0wmcZI7MjKVVEy5zUKhmlVVk3cHGPRqoY4LDedO0WX5L9X-3iyMyzqiGrFTxE9P6f3lai0d_qhXt8JEpHvmHeRQwRyS5ei2-5Rq6gtuHSqX4MtCVKL92DuY77LL8/s1676/IMG_20230703_094704358.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1278" data-original-width="1676" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJJF9LQGwmMeIFBxFAaNYA2yNUAEplg6UaGjRcfRRU11nIlWNbsXK1F07bKIa_JDl0wmcZI7MjKVVEy5zUKhmlVVk3cHGPRqoY4LDedO0WX5L9X-3iyMyzqiGrFTxE9P6f3lai0d_qhXt8JEpHvmHeRQwRyS5ei2-5Rq6gtuHSqX4MtCVKL92DuY77LL8/s320/IMG_20230703_094704358.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>Setting off down the road, I passed the village school, with an old winding wheel outside. A right hand turn took me along a cycle path which led to Conkers. This area used to be a coal mine and railway tracks. It has been enthusiastically re-greened, with the obligatory sculptures, nature trails, and historical signage. The effect veers slightly towards nature-as-commodity; there's a sense of smugness that we, as humans, can destroy a landscape utterly and then put it back together again. Then again, it undoubtedly <i>is</i> better than just leaving a huge hole and some rusty iron. And the entire National Forest is a larger-scale attempt to do the same thing, really, by planting trees.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCil7jeAf5X9lsabe4Pmj0-HJuy_O8IcF9K3GC6jkxMCryg0IqAcEQJ4_TJEJ8f6e8MIyWBQEZ_esTMfLcmGwGJBNkae49eH2mxljJ-45BdrEQeXiDfcQJnChUOqDO2xAK0viR0z5KmaZCvDASoQPhGbk_vUvkK2iTvGy2Ijyt5A95XmyMDK9obDglERI/s3264/IMG_5519.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCil7jeAf5X9lsabe4Pmj0-HJuy_O8IcF9K3GC6jkxMCryg0IqAcEQJ4_TJEJ8f6e8MIyWBQEZ_esTMfLcmGwGJBNkae49eH2mxljJ-45BdrEQeXiDfcQJnChUOqDO2xAK0viR0z5KmaZCvDASoQPhGbk_vUvkK2iTvGy2Ijyt5A95XmyMDK9obDglERI/s320/IMG_5519.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Overseal school</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqy9dTiU3OlaHvnKLY7kGIH7TbyiVcHTxsT8P2wiz5NQ594qw9hfW0PAm0RWAX21tur7zBaSBMuKf45GfZAtOG6ARa9_jiqYUcEKKW_LD9wU40ViYUHOjJcp_f09XMzOAWWABk4fPlrFJUyBHq6MF4kl4w4xmdTTuzLCC7-naX-Azpu4QNPiGh8XRPoN0/s3264/IMG_5504.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqy9dTiU3OlaHvnKLY7kGIH7TbyiVcHTxsT8P2wiz5NQ594qw9hfW0PAm0RWAX21tur7zBaSBMuKf45GfZAtOG6ARa9_jiqYUcEKKW_LD9wU40ViYUHOjJcp_f09XMzOAWWABk4fPlrFJUyBHq6MF4kl4w4xmdTTuzLCC7-naX-Azpu4QNPiGh8XRPoN0/s320/IMG_5504.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wildflowers near Conkers</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div>On the plus side, all those gravel cycle paths made for very easy walking. I crossed the Ashby Canal, plodded along a busy road, then followed a bridlepath to Boothorpe and Blackfordby. Blackfordby was the village with the mediaeval spring. It looked very clear and refreshing. I dipped my hands in and sat by it for a few minutes. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNL_Kb_obbkuaYQw3Fsq3I2aJkrmePrB_Rc4CYB8oeGJjLc1P_lpqTWUfnPYFiT-utLNLGqTr9s31OJFG1-uZAlQifVbtduMLssHRaaGaonjNBIpvtTtVV5ehl_MTXEY21nJyU6dm7sMTYHANh7X3F2jkVpCK3hdA_iullb4oxf3DgRc4ImuXKkvU8tqw/s3264/IMG_5508.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNL_Kb_obbkuaYQw3Fsq3I2aJkrmePrB_Rc4CYB8oeGJjLc1P_lpqTWUfnPYFiT-utLNLGqTr9s31OJFG1-uZAlQifVbtduMLssHRaaGaonjNBIpvtTtVV5ehl_MTXEY21nJyU6dm7sMTYHANh7X3F2jkVpCK3hdA_iullb4oxf3DgRc4ImuXKkvU8tqw/s320/IMG_5508.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDbLa3jm2P1Ub4Fgg8tHqX5gnry4z8fH5d-1pSkiVrIF46rfeMId87-El8zXZvDUAZvqcg7VHz9wMgm9jWgRT69fOwNUpFnZP_gbiz0FVQ5JzzqGrqr6AK0Pg_Ffj7CBQ4fsb5IDxHXI8Hx_eAmKt1LtT1awMLohRwPS7LbWWaCnppJxYE8bYmgwP4Hog/s3264/IMG_5509.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDbLa3jm2P1Ub4Fgg8tHqX5gnry4z8fH5d-1pSkiVrIF46rfeMId87-El8zXZvDUAZvqcg7VHz9wMgm9jWgRT69fOwNUpFnZP_gbiz0FVQ5JzzqGrqr6AK0Pg_Ffj7CBQ4fsb5IDxHXI8Hx_eAmKt1LtT1awMLohRwPS7LbWWaCnppJxYE8bYmgwP4Hog/s320/IMG_5509.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>At this point I left the NFW to loop back to Overseal. I was intrigued by the Albert Village war memorial, which reminded me, somehow, of a Tesco store. The village inhabitants must have been Princess Diana fans, too. I don't think I've ever seen a Diana Princess of Wales Memorial Woodland before, and it seemed a rather incongruous place to have one.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOKFyDlIIhipFXbcoUAeUKBTlVh703Xa_qYmI4KDQJc6bfaUt_qHhAcdRRWAlH68vmBuMPAuX6HRdnEg9Gct2PgWbS1xMHjcjL1nzjck1hAbwddzx7pIBvAk29w6yprkjpJ_I9xK-mYxLNvu618n-Xn4FGF-ECrRdxcm3mnwwjR6XmNQj-bOUK5W9m9dE/s1337/IMG_5514.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="848" data-original-width="1337" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOKFyDlIIhipFXbcoUAeUKBTlVh703Xa_qYmI4KDQJc6bfaUt_qHhAcdRRWAlH68vmBuMPAuX6HRdnEg9Gct2PgWbS1xMHjcjL1nzjck1hAbwddzx7pIBvAk29w6yprkjpJ_I9xK-mYxLNvu618n-Xn4FGF-ECrRdxcm3mnwwjR6XmNQj-bOUK5W9m9dE/s320/IMG_5514.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stanley Village war memorial</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwhzVcEXpYMf92aXt8ihiB94sZSWMGODTwG70WP3-7c5sCXhCH2aTAdw3atFN9T_DS8Q6URpl7FV2kh5MlB5c6L-3QFyzXAslgzDxbLZ2W_wNs0AGn4sgUc89pvaTyQlUH3Sa-7KOxO-teDM_h6W60n0e09C8dxzcSSsu7mytLnc90CaOkLMjfcxmUR_s/s3264/IMG_5516.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwhzVcEXpYMf92aXt8ihiB94sZSWMGODTwG70WP3-7c5sCXhCH2aTAdw3atFN9T_DS8Q6URpl7FV2kh5MlB5c6L-3QFyzXAslgzDxbLZ2W_wNs0AGn4sgUc89pvaTyQlUH3Sa-7KOxO-teDM_h6W60n0e09C8dxzcSSsu7mytLnc90CaOkLMjfcxmUR_s/s320/IMG_5516.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sculpture in Diana's memorial woodland</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div>Gresley Woods was beautiful. I could have happily explored it further if my feet weren't starting to hurt. Reluctantly, I left the woods to join a long boring cycle path alongside a railway, and then back along a road to my car.</div><div> </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJmmAwkRufvf2WpP8mlSLoSijskqTncIJRwbr0e5IQTaFsqL57OYxHoH3QwBKF23OqpV5TytpUcSEGBg-5ZC9Z84NJAQe3IIKjHyAMbzR6YVcvbJHlA9UjygigMD4oQwN9yRLasVn-L08SLn9LFJ2wQ6zHtn6CaWVgmCzFFrdFLTc7hbgliU2aCmwiHAQ/s3264/IMG_5518.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJmmAwkRufvf2WpP8mlSLoSijskqTncIJRwbr0e5IQTaFsqL57OYxHoH3QwBKF23OqpV5TytpUcSEGBg-5ZC9Z84NJAQe3IIKjHyAMbzR6YVcvbJHlA9UjygigMD4oQwN9yRLasVn-L08SLn9LFJ2wQ6zHtn6CaWVgmCzFFrdFLTc7hbgliU2aCmwiHAQ/s320/IMG_5518.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look at those trees!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div><h2 style="text-align: left;">Walk Two</h2><div style="text-align: left;">My mum joined me for this one. In theory it was shorter than the last walk, but a non-existent footpath and some excessively overgrown vegetation meant that it took us a similar amount of time.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRiTuIwrQG_Au-rEnTbImRRAsaaTOqMkGvQK3xJB5ASAiogEsSRtITs50zW93cZ4Rs7STXkmV1xy60iL9aB52CSt8i2mNl6WBvbezUPrKZtTFFQyVvCJbiow0oYD8QeEvApkmZR7j1caxYNJAcuSciDw7hClcpZdyyrxGrgqJmxmVFUESd-g9GKbqbw2Q/s3264/IMG_5520.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRiTuIwrQG_Au-rEnTbImRRAsaaTOqMkGvQK3xJB5ASAiogEsSRtITs50zW93cZ4Rs7STXkmV1xy60iL9aB52CSt8i2mNl6WBvbezUPrKZtTFFQyVvCJbiow0oYD8QeEvApkmZR7j1caxYNJAcuSciDw7hClcpZdyyrxGrgqJmxmVFUESd-g9GKbqbw2Q/s320/IMG_5520.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's a footpath...?<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We set off from Hartshorne and immediately had to hack our way through a jungle of field beans. When we got to the wood at the corner of the field, my map showed two footpaths, but the one we wanted was decidedly not there. Fortunately the other one went in much the same direction. It pottered along quite happily to the edge of a housing estate, at which point it went rogue and vanished under six-foot-high weeds. We donned waterproofs and plunged in, eventually emerging triumphant at a stile.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA3Lz20R4c8peKx1nhYs3EIPbC2-lRXEIUjfHs0Fpi7rQs5PxlG-d9_h8xfZIStcwbSoZjPotY7YhYSemHhC8Yr2Y0qdk8J-Uy6H7WyhvyZ4cJJOA3RA_XtCF3ndU79rde5kcjJ920_NqUKNGE9xTaoF5VXQl_dEdHjaBlZeTBminkkB6J2Oaaf9QrHS4/s3264/IMG_5523.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA3Lz20R4c8peKx1nhYs3EIPbC2-lRXEIUjfHs0Fpi7rQs5PxlG-d9_h8xfZIStcwbSoZjPotY7YhYSemHhC8Yr2Y0qdk8J-Uy6H7WyhvyZ4cJJOA3RA_XtCF3ndU79rde5kcjJ920_NqUKNGE9xTaoF5VXQl_dEdHjaBlZeTBminkkB6J2Oaaf9QrHS4/s320/IMG_5523.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's still a footpath...!<br /></td></tr></tbody></table> </div><div style="text-align: left;">After that we were quite happy to be on tarmac for a short stretch into Blackfordby. Once we'd rejoined the NFW the path became tame and docile once more. It took us past fields of horses and alpacas and into the village of Smisby.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzf9n8VrMO-dR2a2NkNFN1ZYVVWWw_g6lM6JcJss1GoIWXATP8Q-GI1f_FkspvYGP9ketnOQeS3tL7099djMrbZGZth0JuDJgU15kkIqg3CjXzqWNrHixrzNFa8fnNYPhc7IfW1GDzFNAhaXOgn6efB3jsjazqVH9DqRJi8hWE7PLtXvUHDVwv-TdOd88/s3264/IMG_5528.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzf9n8VrMO-dR2a2NkNFN1ZYVVWWw_g6lM6JcJss1GoIWXATP8Q-GI1f_FkspvYGP9ketnOQeS3tL7099djMrbZGZth0JuDJgU15kkIqg3CjXzqWNrHixrzNFa8fnNYPhc7IfW1GDzFNAhaXOgn6efB3jsjazqVH9DqRJi8hWE7PLtXvUHDVwv-TdOd88/s320/IMG_5528.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /> </div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">For some reason I'd assumed that Bluebell Nursery and Arboretum, just outside Smisby, had a cafe. We were both ready for a drink and a snack by that point. Sadly it didn't. We had to make do with water and a cereal bar outside St James' church.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi14LHqfwXTgUUyKKvJ0hV8cV6aMPuEsz7YHGwOqyGO1t3R05DNSBLnhrATt2d2PQdVgHd2gqkcQaBAgFdeljtYDszrtKHGa5LA8townPGaYfyXC98W7BApQjlUwiDgaUDKYVW7rOu5Pe4TBy3JGszVhdkv9VTKScyXE1fu-SX5tKWp1sLUIecpjATFc20/s3264/IMG_5530.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi14LHqfwXTgUUyKKvJ0hV8cV6aMPuEsz7YHGwOqyGO1t3R05DNSBLnhrATt2d2PQdVgHd2gqkcQaBAgFdeljtYDszrtKHGa5LA8townPGaYfyXC98W7BApQjlUwiDgaUDKYVW7rOu5Pe4TBy3JGszVhdkv9VTKScyXE1fu-SX5tKWp1sLUIecpjATFc20/s320/IMG_5530.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St James' Church, Smisby<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">Thus fortified, we continued across some fairly uninteresting fields towards Hartshorne. Somebody had hung two pairs of socks on a stile. Just before reaching Hartshorne, we crossed a new section of National Forest. The trees had been planted, but so far were mostly dwarfed by the long grass surrounding them. That took us to the end of Stage 7 of the National Forest Way - six out of twelve stages completed!</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4gevC23Y0SBlNtGiXJdXCZmb7MVgXV-PoYZmDs4R0jTvpO36aoJnoRLZ3L_ciykFiMZsJmmXY_LZ9IWXOnywwRuOn-Q0PYlQiDioJG_B4uykxG2hz1f3b3aru2VNpHaGXw6NknvXQEXVWs9ifpW6vQB8PJcmY1tYOZy5uOorocICWDNg3tAW6xyZVzUA/s3264/IMG_5531.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4gevC23Y0SBlNtGiXJdXCZmb7MVgXV-PoYZmDs4R0jTvpO36aoJnoRLZ3L_ciykFiMZsJmmXY_LZ9IWXOnywwRuOn-Q0PYlQiDioJG_B4uykxG2hz1f3b3aru2VNpHaGXw6NknvXQEXVWs9ifpW6vQB8PJcmY1tYOZy5uOorocICWDNg3tAW6xyZVzUA/s320/IMG_5531.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">socks on a stile<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMRoqKn3Uyv2-REKDbABEFiygngU5FJFmv-6Bjlg6cSVpC9yZauAJ8oiT0GvmLx_dk-NTQbk2iTNoWarOU32ifaV20_ua31KqM8F60M2VMAH6GIG4nmuh-nSv-uGGI7Ioda-YN6u4a-frSUomnrfbDPj9qJE0rSLTHjpzlZHU4JXlsGukoHk29eAYWx2s/s3264/IMG_5534.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMRoqKn3Uyv2-REKDbABEFiygngU5FJFmv-6Bjlg6cSVpC9yZauAJ8oiT0GvmLx_dk-NTQbk2iTNoWarOU32ifaV20_ua31KqM8F60M2VMAH6GIG4nmuh-nSv-uGGI7Ioda-YN6u4a-frSUomnrfbDPj9qJE0rSLTHjpzlZHU4JXlsGukoHk29eAYWx2s/s320/IMG_5534.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One day, all this will be trees...<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /> </div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><p>Previous sections:</p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/07/national-forest-way-rosliston-to.html">Rosliston - Overseal </a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/05/national-forest-way-rangemore-to.html">Rangemore - Rosliston</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/04/walking-national-forest-way-with-two.html">National Memorial Arboretum - Rangemore</a></p></div></div>Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-62212950221549227142023-07-21T13:56:00.000-05:002023-07-21T13:56:13.449-05:00The Scandal of Redemption: Spiritual Formation Book 9<p>"I do indeed fear God, and so I try to say only what he wants me to say, even if people don't want me to say what I'm saying."</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZsQP7yAFCA2p_A8lZ96FvTmOwjufTYEXhYLwqyn_yiuyFo0Bzy64OI2ludqL677Ad5WhpFNwhzs3uIqO_fBbtrPHPaGFS-9uqll2yh8EZnGKUwz3Mcgv7sXAJLhDQuYcQAfC2JCgWQmZu441akOy-5pcuDLj_F1yel2V85hBYZ3s5pSUnvXIOQ7D7Xo/s266/scandal%20of%20redemption.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="266" data-original-width="190" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZsQP7yAFCA2p_A8lZ96FvTmOwjufTYEXhYLwqyn_yiuyFo0Bzy64OI2ludqL677Ad5WhpFNwhzs3uIqO_fBbtrPHPaGFS-9uqll2yh8EZnGKUwz3Mcgv7sXAJLhDQuYcQAfC2JCgWQmZu441akOy-5pcuDLj_F1yel2V85hBYZ3s5pSUnvXIOQ7D7Xo/s1600/scandal%20of%20redemption.jpg" width="190" /></a></div><br /><p>Oscar Romero was archbishop of San Salvador, capital of El Salvador, at a time when murder and torture were widespread in the country. After his friend and fellow priest Father Grande was killed by the government, Romero took a stand against the violence. Week after week, he used his pulpit and radio broadcasts to report the murders and disappearances; to call for the church to work for peace and justice; and to preach repentance and forgiveness even for the killers. He did this knowing that it would certainly lead to his death. In March 1980 he was shot as he celebrated Mass in the cathedral.</p><p><i>The Scandal of Redemption</i> collects together extracts from Romero's sermons and diaries. The chapter headings are short - The Church, The Call, Redemption, Liberation - and each chapter gives a flavour of Romero's thinking on the topic. A remarkable man emerges from the pages.</p><h3>What are the main themes of this book?</h3><div>Right from the beginning, Romero knew what he was doing. In 1977 he preached, "Let us not be afraid! Let us keep walking on this road that will one day lead us to death." His diary entries report funerals for those who have been assassinated, bomb threats, and opposition from other bishops. He does not flinch from calling the government to account, and challenging the church to stand for justice.</div><div><br /></div><div>And yet what comes through is an overwhelming sense of hope. "In Christ," he says, "is found the zone where those who are most needy and helpless can glimpse the hope offered by a God who still loves us." Romero pictures God walking along the roads to find us, offering redemption without limitations. Although he calls Christians to struggle, he knows that God is the only one who can truly bring change: "not because we humans can create this blessing... but because God is already in the midst of humanity, building a kingdom of justice and love and peace."</div><div><br /></div><div><h3>What did you like about the book?</h3></div><div>At first I wasn't sure I was going to get much out of <i>The Scandal of Redemption</i>, but it definitely grew on me! Romero's calls for social justice were rooted deeply in a beautiful view of Jesus and his church. "Blessed are those who are aware, even in these dark hours of our history, that Christ lives!" he preached. "He lives powerfully as God, and he lives caringly as man." Romero speaks of Jesus who was willing to be regarded as a criminal, to feel "human exhaustion and sweat and anguish"; but also Jesus who is "the one and only liberator, the risen Christ", who has redeemed the world and declares, "Mission accomplished!"</div><div><br /></div><div>Romero speaks often about the work of the church. That was a new phrase to me - I hadn't exactly thought about the church having a job. "The church must not only denounce what is wrong but must also announce hope," he says, and he talks about the hard work and prayer needed to bring love, peace, and reconciliation to the world.</div><div><br /></div><div>But the church is not just a job, it is a people drawn together by their trust in Jesus: "The church is communion and life... and her members must confront life in real time... We worship a living God." If the church was a human institution, he says, it would have failed long ago, but because it is a community of people who put their "fragile trust" in the living Christ, it still has power.</div><div><br /></div><div><h3>What did you find difficult?</h3><p style="text-align: left;">I found these three lines most challenging:</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>The vocation of human beings is to collaborate in the salvation of others.</i> Do I collaborate in salvation and not in harm? How do I do that? Is that my vocation - my reason for being?</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>Christians must always nourish in their hearts the fullness of joy. </i>This carries weight, coming as it does from a man whose life was in danger. Yet he found joy in knowing Jesus. How do I nourish Jesus' presence in my life? How can I know fullness of joy even in difficulty?</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>If we are reasonable in our hopes for a world where we will love one another... then we must work to make these qualities a part of our history here and now on earth. </i>To what extent am I hoping God will work everything out one day, and to what extent am I doing anything about it now? How can I make love, peace and justice a part of my history, and my country's history?</p><h3>Did you learn something new?</h3><p style="text-align: left;">I was surprised to find that Oscar Romero commented on structural injustice and the Spirit being at work outside the church. Both of these concepts, I thought, were more recent than that!<br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p></div><div>Romero says, "Modern-day society is an anonymous society in which nobody accepts blame but everybody is responsible." This certainly sounds just as applicable to 2023 as it does to 1980. The questions of who has caused the problems, who has the power to change them, and who needs to apologise and make reparations, are still very current. Before Jesus, Romero says, we recognise that we are all sinners. We have all contributed our "grain of sand" to society's sinfulness.</div><div><br /></div><div>Nor is the church exempt. "Often we think that we're the best there is in the world just because we're in the church." That attitude, too, is alive and well today. Romero suggests that there may be more goodness outside the church than there is within. "The Spirit," he says, "is not monopolized by any Christian movement or hierarchy." It's hard to argue with that, when you think about it, but it's remarkably easy to forget that true faith is not only found within the bounds of our own small beliefs.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><h3>Will you do something differently?</h3></div><div>Archbishop Romero's final sermon was at the funeral of a friend's mother. It was at this Mass that he was shot. A few moments before, he had said these words: "I ask all of you, dear brothers and sisters to view these things that are happening in our historical moment with a spirit of hope, generosity, and sacrifice. And let us do what we can. We can all do something and be more understanding."</div><div><br /></div><div>So often, in our historical moment, it feels like there is nothing we can do. Or it feels like there are so many competing voices calling us to do <i>something</i> that we don't know what to do. I thought the call to view things with hope, generosity, sacrifice, and understanding was helpful. To do what we can, and "above all, pray," as Romero said a sentence or two later. I'm thankful that the state of our country is not quite as bad as El Salvador was then, but there are still many opportunities to announce hope and denounce injustice, if I possibly can.</div><div><br /></div><div><h3>What is one thing you will remember?</h3></div><div>I felt like <i>The Scandal of Redemption </i>gave me a good sense of who Oscar Romero was and what he believed. He was an amazing person. What will stay with me is simply that appreciation that such a man existed. He truly did what he could in his historical moment, trusting in Jesus with peace and joy, and communicating good news to criminals and church alike.</div>Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-66420860871257777212023-07-08T15:53:00.001-05:002023-10-28T08:05:18.893-05:00National Forest Way: Rosliston to Overseal<p>This section followed some very pleasant footpaths through woods and fields, down in the southern tip of Derbyshire. Toby and Theo joined me for the first, shorter, walk; I did the second larger loop by myself. <a href="https://www.nationalforest.org/visit/national-forest-way-downloads">Stage 8</a> of the NFW actually runs from Rosliston to Conkers, but I stopped a couple of kilometres short, in Overseal.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKcFDG6c3rX6mo-7WUDzes4a_mvRUpi4aYSxaqv6FipNln9OO5X_Vfj6C2ZOVUR_hEaw-q9c2sKvRp3QE3I5eLLwuV6_rKSMX9yZ0pf6a2YEwFtkUW_ZtRzr0TA80B_V3Cg_20SVVbShycRDTWdgK51qKzT6eqFObsvLu0RoCqLn2ZJZG4LXfYg4EpfpU/s2592/IMG_20230603_131532636.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1952" data-original-width="2592" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKcFDG6c3rX6mo-7WUDzes4a_mvRUpi4aYSxaqv6FipNln9OO5X_Vfj6C2ZOVUR_hEaw-q9c2sKvRp3QE3I5eLLwuV6_rKSMX9yZ0pf6a2YEwFtkUW_ZtRzr0TA80B_V3Cg_20SVVbShycRDTWdgK51qKzT6eqFObsvLu0RoCqLn2ZJZG4LXfYg4EpfpU/s320/IMG_20230603_131532636.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><iframe src="https://www.google.com/maps/d/embed?mid=1mRjg6dsWEPchoX-wH4UdLZhZAVguOa0&ehbc=2E312F" width="640" height="480"></iframe><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: left;">Walk One</h2><p>It was a sunny Saturday. Perfect walking weather, I thought, but I hadn't realised it was also the day of the FA Cup Final. Toby was keen to make it back by 3pm for kick-off, which gave us quite a tight deadline to complete our hike. I certainly had no complaints about the boys dawdling!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqQIzv5vGp8CsFWMVj-y8o7ahdcLUoLFOMqgqHmJSL3UvvdpXGXzQKck3UfEM1YWSCgBEPcnQcU1BZmYkRlsBVzHmr2oQnnIqVoVB0bXvQ4WPy1CQADfAIiG2U29jLaWin8Tp0-7dZ418XiilhTC3xmovdl8nffgyx_AVJkP3coTpIsjx9CFWWwiypeYM/s3264/IMG_20230603_130939574.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqQIzv5vGp8CsFWMVj-y8o7ahdcLUoLFOMqgqHmJSL3UvvdpXGXzQKck3UfEM1YWSCgBEPcnQcU1BZmYkRlsBVzHmr2oQnnIqVoVB0bXvQ4WPy1CQADfAIiG2U29jLaWin8Tp0-7dZ418XiilhTC3xmovdl8nffgyx_AVJkP3coTpIsjx9CFWWwiypeYM/s320/IMG_20230603_130939574.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coalmining sculpture at Rosliston</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>We walked past some familiar landmarks at Rosliston Forestry Centre, then followed a path in a large curve around the edge of a wood. The route then crossed a classic summer wheatfield - green stalks and baked brown earth - to reach <a href="https://www.woodlandtrust.org.uk/visiting-woods/woods/penguin-wood-at-botany-bay/">Penguin Wood</a>. Sadly there were no native penguins; the trees were apparently planted in partnership with Penguin Books. Our turning point was the tiny hamlet of Botany Bay, which doesn't appear to have any connection with its Antipodean namesake. We followed a quiet country lane back to Rosliston village and the Forestry Centre. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtrRmqC0YL2XW4TFFo8qvqzXfVAKIoqfB-e3qDrLsD_pas_ROXO1htpqoeVYlSml2uYdCOH1TleLM04dsHdwuAjKtVPR9LbXLd6K9KNuYLMKIQOVkCExvmLsX6iLgqO-VxndfOiC6tzG43MtiN4ymB5U4X5NI_y2RGSPMX5pjK6FyNEKpMvZeOz9uiJ_w/s3264/IMG_20230603_134850389.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtrRmqC0YL2XW4TFFo8qvqzXfVAKIoqfB-e3qDrLsD_pas_ROXO1htpqoeVYlSml2uYdCOH1TleLM04dsHdwuAjKtVPR9LbXLd6K9KNuYLMKIQOVkCExvmLsX6iLgqO-VxndfOiC6tzG43MtiN4ymB5U4X5NI_y2RGSPMX5pjK6FyNEKpMvZeOz9uiJ_w/s320/IMG_20230603_134850389.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">classic summer wheatfield</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKMNNc3dsTQdv4LOk4bG8dKvvjhCBMf7A683mCX1oGbPFSxXg_9sRBEbY539HJp1Vc0Gsz6avIljubEHA1nJqzZM7KkvD9EcCqVsgn3YI9VrjC5J2QzYkADPrgAtppmZMiWssAMkWy_ngdaFCWf4Nx2xS1pSA7uInbiHrlWcdbO3RBfyumCS49t_qYTik/s3264/IMG_20230603_135739828.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKMNNc3dsTQdv4LOk4bG8dKvvjhCBMf7A683mCX1oGbPFSxXg_9sRBEbY539HJp1Vc0Gsz6avIljubEHA1nJqzZM7KkvD9EcCqVsgn3YI9VrjC5J2QzYkADPrgAtppmZMiWssAMkWy_ngdaFCWf4Nx2xS1pSA7uInbiHrlWcdbO3RBfyumCS49t_qYTik/s320/IMG_20230603_135739828.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>Our car pulled into the drive back home at 5 past 3, but the first goal of the match had already been scored. Still, I think the remaining 85 minutes were reasonably exciting, so all was not lost.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij43JVnp96w8a8jriudq39dGxpmC8S-_McGoIdccyGE0foch0nJxgsnGTsxBUlqYMQ5NyHlhx4-kGSINeJ1t4pxck4BrAN6Kjbn4536rin07R0WPFnCo7EX93tShgyOSoGJPepYc6LzhAkFWecvhZTzoWpT10K1akZIc5w1rZD1U730jxfLj5gWinV3zs/s3264/IMG_20230619_103510679.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij43JVnp96w8a8jriudq39dGxpmC8S-_McGoIdccyGE0foch0nJxgsnGTsxBUlqYMQ5NyHlhx4-kGSINeJ1t4pxck4BrAN6Kjbn4536rin07R0WPFnCo7EX93tShgyOSoGJPepYc6LzhAkFWecvhZTzoWpT10K1akZIc5w1rZD1U730jxfLj5gWinV3zs/s320/IMG_20230619_103510679.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: left;">Walk Two</h2><p></p><p>There was definitely a car park on both the OS map and Google street view, but I failed to find it on the ground, so I parked on a side street in Overseal instead. That meant I started by doing the non-NFW part of my loop, heading west via Linton to pick up the route at Botany Bay again. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixE31Zoobj1UxPq1AmuGAJKl2CmPig-GVvVFMSHsDB2TBC_4y-yTrIbmOM8okLFBh4kmCxvle2BTXU-BeiaPtXN03gs8yn-L5Tbkk1Va-SqWNoURwMTisZkuGGCi7F_8Zu1GonXeSQvKXbpTduAe4zMJITk8Gn3mY6vTnLoh2YwPS_5pR6sv9RIqE2LnE/s3264/IMG_20230619_094543855.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixE31Zoobj1UxPq1AmuGAJKl2CmPig-GVvVFMSHsDB2TBC_4y-yTrIbmOM8okLFBh4kmCxvle2BTXU-BeiaPtXN03gs8yn-L5Tbkk1Va-SqWNoURwMTisZkuGGCi7F_8Zu1GonXeSQvKXbpTduAe4zMJITk8Gn3mY6vTnLoh2YwPS_5pR6sv9RIqE2LnE/s320/IMG_20230619_094543855.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from Overseal</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>I was very glad I'd brought my waterproof trousers this time! It had rained hard the night before, and every grass stem carried a load of water. Since some of the grass was above my waist, I might as well have jumped in a paddling pool. I waded past barking dogs and over a long-defunct railway embankment.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2PfuchrtCZVFMOfd0GlKytIPOfjwfdM0jLA_zkAhQieeMjp6CL2NLD1vSJ6hpuYiWyFFdpRPTuX9aDFNMPawWc1Uzw-PpmjCwph5YnZYLuQKttc3Zml7gr0Aycm6jy85b7hr2Yq2-uy3u-bgVChGmyuhdjBoqdnVCiqe3EwOi0z89llMY4kLuUKtVSf4/s3264/IMG_20230619_102444370.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2PfuchrtCZVFMOfd0GlKytIPOfjwfdM0jLA_zkAhQieeMjp6CL2NLD1vSJ6hpuYiWyFFdpRPTuX9aDFNMPawWc1Uzw-PpmjCwph5YnZYLuQKttc3Zml7gr0Aycm6jy85b7hr2Yq2-uy3u-bgVChGmyuhdjBoqdnVCiqe3EwOi0z89llMY4kLuUKtVSf4/s320/IMG_20230619_102444370.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Very long grass!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSMN5cNUa2efL94tK194J7-ZRUSPnKypxq73DWo4Sm-JWb1d6foRioIaCVkB9bmT1OnEecfDkHvz9LZnWkaRkfVtLus5PRU0C_J5KqVlHroLJo_T9rwYbAEfCgdey4kvfGiarGA0Ufu-_PMS5F5PQFerN0tbva-c8czc6kU--adDzi5ITJruAI_jzdTcA/s3264/IMG_20230619_103652833.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSMN5cNUa2efL94tK194J7-ZRUSPnKypxq73DWo4Sm-JWb1d6foRioIaCVkB9bmT1OnEecfDkHvz9LZnWkaRkfVtLus5PRU0C_J5KqVlHroLJo_T9rwYbAEfCgdey4kvfGiarGA0Ufu-_PMS5F5PQFerN0tbva-c8czc6kU--adDzi5ITJruAI_jzdTcA/s320/IMG_20230619_103652833.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back on the NFW</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Then the sun came out and the world promptly turned into a steam room. At least the path was clearer by then, so I was able to take off the waterproof trousers. They came in handy to sit on while I had a snack. I skirted a wood with signs saying, "Danger. Keep Out." and went past Grangewood Hall, which looked like a pastoral painting, with cows grazing peacefully in the foreground.</p><p>The National Forest Way didn't <i>quite</i> get to Netherseal, but I decided to take a detour anyway. Netherseal and its neighbour Lullington are the southernmost villages in Derbyshire. The River Mease forms the boundary. I crossed the river and tried to guess which county I was now in. It turned out to be Leicestershire - but to my surprise, it could almost have been Warwickshire. There's about a mile of boundary between Staffordshire and Leicestershire, and then the top of Warwickshire reaches up to nearly touch the bottom of Derbyshire.</p><p>Netherseal is the burial place of Sir Nigel Gresley, who designed the <i>Flying Scotsman</i> and <i>Mallard</i> locomotives. There is a little model of<i> Mallard</i> on his grave. Unfortunately my phone threw a wobbly and lost all the photos I took on the second half of the walk. So here's a Wikimedia photo of <i>Mallard </i>instead.<br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5KW58jonyPdjW_taUp7ixXmvD3qHCDfIXdvnpl-mOLXaMImNXac5PWshC_Xc3jmKxVA5AJnF1QsK3JziIujI16sHXuY_MJftQBbISdkedJY5jOtax_n5tjt40RM_M6LDB8y4MczPHWiCsDoqTvsnN1M2vK-dKClvrq9JyOdSlmRR5Rl5N3dM_ZP98t0o/s640/640px-LNER_Class_A4_4468_Mallard_National_Railway_Museum.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5KW58jonyPdjW_taUp7ixXmvD3qHCDfIXdvnpl-mOLXaMImNXac5PWshC_Xc3jmKxVA5AJnF1QsK3JziIujI16sHXuY_MJftQBbISdkedJY5jOtax_n5tjt40RM_M6LDB8y4MczPHWiCsDoqTvsnN1M2vK-dKClvrq9JyOdSlmRR5Rl5N3dM_ZP98t0o/s320/640px-LNER_Class_A4_4468_Mallard_National_Railway_Museum.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By BWard 1997 - Own work, CC BY 3.0, <br />https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=121639534</td></tr></tbody></table><p>I headed north and uphill back to Overseal, where I rewarded myself with an ice cream from the village shop. This had been one of my longest and stickiest walks so far. The ice cream definitely hit the spot!</p><p>Previous sections:</p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/05/national-forest-way-rangemore-to.html">Rangemore - Rosliston</a></p><p><a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/04/walking-national-forest-way-with-two.html">National Memorial Arboretum - Rangemore</a></p>Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-43571068080575349962023-06-16T11:31:00.002-05:002023-06-16T11:31:23.763-05:00St Winefride and her well<p>I promised that I would tell you how I got on to this <a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/06/pilgrimage.html">pilgrimage business</a> in the first place. The hook was a chance encounter with a seventh-century saint named Winefride; the hook turned out to be connected to a line, which was a pilgrimage route from Shrewsbury to Holywell; and once I pulled on that line, it just kept unspooling into a whole fishing net's worth of new discoveries.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl-oycXRgleYRNokdMuIiQGJVwOE600pwTcqwWR7Xzfn-tqRHEmWbxONKtNb7twwsykTSAcTYzRUxS-f2IK1eoimqsZA7QgjZXyI6dX8fxg40iECkrJvRTtP7j8ppp100Dm_60Z2I0sfLlPyaMpbDfVGQCZkgEBAFJ8B-X0eM3PIIpRVHQbAPvFQyC/s3264/IMG_20230324_113713250.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl-oycXRgleYRNokdMuIiQGJVwOE600pwTcqwWR7Xzfn-tqRHEmWbxONKtNb7twwsykTSAcTYzRUxS-f2IK1eoimqsZA7QgjZXyI6dX8fxg40iECkrJvRTtP7j8ppp100Dm_60Z2I0sfLlPyaMpbDfVGQCZkgEBAFJ8B-X0eM3PIIpRVHQbAPvFQyC/s320/IMG_20230324_113713250.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Icon of St Winefride in Shrewsbury Abbey<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>St Winefride was the unlikely subject of a Bible study at my homegroup. Niece of the Welsh saint Beuno, she was determined to be a nun. However, a man named Caradog was equally determined that she should become his wife. When she refused, he cut off her head with his sword. Fortunately St Beuno had heard Winefride's cries, and, arriving at the scene, placed her head back onto her body, and restored her to life. Caradog met an untimely end, Winefride was able to pursue her calling into a nunnery, and at the place where her head fell, there arose a spring of water which became known as St Winefride's Well.</p><p>Evangelical Christians, while being sure that all the resurrections in the Bible definitely happened, tend to be sceptical about the resurrection of seventh-century saints. I realise this is not entirely logical. St Winefride's story was not received with any great enthusiasm by my homegroup, but something about it stuck with me. The spring associated with her still exists, in Holywell, North Wales, and has been a shrine continuously since the Middle Ages. At some point in the 12th century, Winefride's remains were moved to Shrewsbury Abbey. And so there was formed a 70-mile <a href="https://britishpilgrimage.org/portfolio/st-winefride-pilgrim-trail/">pilgrimage route</a> between the two places.</p><p>But once you've got from Shrewsbury to Holywell, why stop there? You can join the <a href="https://pilgrims-way-north-wales.org/index.html">North Wales Pilgrim's Way</a> and walk all the way to <a href="https://www.bardsey.org/spirituality">Bardsey Island</a>, reputedly the burial place of 20 000 saints, although I haven't figured out who they all were yet. Or you can turn east and get to Chester, then follow the <a href="https://www.twosaintsway.co.uk/">Two Saints Way</a> from the shrine of St Werburgh in Chester Cathedral, 92 miles to Lichfield Cathedral, dedicated to St Chad (I wrote a <a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2014/02/st-chad.html">poem</a> about him, once).</p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj07ZIfYEHteFGOTOqNeGSFE26KhMxyz9tWYyZJ8BsFVNfe_TfhbfaYlGjFj1UPnRABDzyPPOG36JKEJxlRjyq3EJAMGC8O5C7OCn3gRQIi445v2wbhm77gy17qB4VXjj4QXWR0L6pinLC0xPOnuwpEeXZIf8DXAZn-HTTgkQUvoxEOQdrwpvzRuPTV/s2048/IMG_7708.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj07ZIfYEHteFGOTOqNeGSFE26KhMxyz9tWYyZJ8BsFVNfe_TfhbfaYlGjFj1UPnRABDzyPPOG36JKEJxlRjyq3EJAMGC8O5C7OCn3gRQIi445v2wbhm77gy17qB4VXjj4QXWR0L6pinLC0xPOnuwpEeXZIf8DXAZn-HTTgkQUvoxEOQdrwpvzRuPTV/s320/IMG_7708.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lichfield Cathedral<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Suddenly the map of Britain changes. Saints pop up like jack-in-the-boxes: Cuthbert, Frideswide, Aiden, Catherine, Kentigern. Pilgrim routes criss-cross the countryside, leading to Canterbury, Walsingham, Lindisfarne. Around every corner, it seems, is a healing well, a stone circle, an ancient yew tree, a ruined abbey. The land speaks of long ages of faith.</p><p>I knew, of course, that pilgrimage was a big thing in the Middle Ages. I can't claim to have read much of Chaucer's <i>Canterbury Tales</i>, but I've at least heard of it. What I didn't know is how popular it has become again today. Britain doesn't seem to have quite caught up with some of the European routes, which have extensive signposting and low-cost hostels along the way. But some churches on pilgrim ways now offer "Night Sanctuary", allowing you to stay overnight, and there are no end of guidebooks and tour companies on offer.<br /></p><p>At some point, I suppose, I will have to stop writing about pilgrimage and start walking! The <a href="https://www.peakpilgrimage.org.uk/">Peak Pilgrimage</a> from Ilam to Eyam is tempting as a first attempt. At 35 miles, it sounds relatively manageable in a long weekend, and has youth hostels at regular intervals along the path. Plus the start point is only a half-hour drive away. Shrewsbury to Holywell might have to wait a while, as that is definitely a week's walking, and a little more complicated to arrange. Meanwhile, I am following along with Pete Greig on Lectio 365, as he journeys from Iona to Lindisfarne, and stretching my legs by continuing with the <a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/05/national-forest-way-rangemore-to.html">National Forest Way</a>.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHxWSUUOYjhucwAPojp6GWJh8tYpFHgBNqcxEjygzNBHfdIU4qsTnbJMzXXXxN-fb8WLlJJ5vDXRGkdyYW3qNDpFGhZLngP77Q1d7gXjwtzt8JFsFQXAMVuizAv0NerXbcqqhl0d5JAbuQRfDQz_U6ksQpku3Ls1B6dWahH9TgwyBLuZkc3zKhpXpV/s3264/IMG_20230424_095540271.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHxWSUUOYjhucwAPojp6GWJh8tYpFHgBNqcxEjygzNBHfdIU4qsTnbJMzXXXxN-fb8WLlJJ5vDXRGkdyYW3qNDpFGhZLngP77Q1d7gXjwtzt8JFsFQXAMVuizAv0NerXbcqqhl0d5JAbuQRfDQz_U6ksQpku3Ls1B6dWahH9TgwyBLuZkc3zKhpXpV/s320/IMG_20230424_095540271.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>St Winefride, you've got a lot to answer for!<br /></p>Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-86692740207332663882023-06-08T13:33:00.001-05:002023-06-08T13:35:27.578-05:00Pilgrimage<p></p><blockquote>Pilgrimage means following in the footsteps of somebody or something we honor to pay homage. It revitalizes our lives, reinvigorates our very souls. </blockquote><div style="margin-left: 160px; text-align: left;"><i>The Art of Pilgrimage</i> by Phil Cousineau<br /></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEnL5OUxfQLqsOfeSnAlxZS8JxpRL7lgJsypORy2NaOP-28n0LAvzaLbdFHPNnvMzqUZgw2_JWOdf3EgzAxDVVpKMJrbTcFuHFuzdG2d-Xco85IQWunHNpb5Pwpk3i7KtBpg4-pir8is_RibuVNShWyAigFV5lNl0VyVd-A10rx_2KdbrAN0nPNotU/s640/chapel-gc03e1d5ba_640.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="640" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEnL5OUxfQLqsOfeSnAlxZS8JxpRL7lgJsypORy2NaOP-28n0LAvzaLbdFHPNnvMzqUZgw2_JWOdf3EgzAxDVVpKMJrbTcFuHFuzdG2d-Xco85IQWunHNpb5Pwpk3i7KtBpg4-pir8is_RibuVNShWyAigFV5lNl0VyVd-A10rx_2KdbrAN0nPNotU/s320/chapel-gc03e1d5ba_640.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> <p></p><p>Recently I've been thinking about the idea of pilgrimage. But defining a pilgrimage is a slippery task. Is it a specific route to a specific place? Or does it refer more to the state of mind in which you undertake a journey? Do you have to wear sandals and a floppy hat, carrying a staff and a scallop shell as symbols of your pilgrim status? Do you have to believe in a god, or saints, or leylines?<br /></p><p>As you might guess, there are no very definitive answers to all these questions. But there are some general principles which cluster around the idea of pilgrimage. Somewhere in the overlapping layers of Place, Purpose, People and Presence is the elusive key which turns a long walk into a sacred journey.</p><h2 style="text-align: left;">Place </h2><blockquote style="border: medium none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: left;">Here, I said: here where you stand / And stop, and let everything go still...</blockquote></blockquote><p style="margin-left: 160px; text-align: left;"><i>The Sacred Way</i> by Jay Ramsay <br /></p><p></p><p>At its most basic, a pilgrimage is a journey to a sacred place. Jerusalem. Mecca. Canterbury. Lourdes. These are names which, for hundreds of years, have drawn people towards them. Defined routes to such places then develop, such as the Camino de Santiago in Spain, with pilgrim hostels along the way, and a passport to collect stamps in. Hundreds of people walk these ways every year, and the experience is deepened as you follow in the footsteps of so many others.</p><p>Sometimes the place is special to only a few, or to you alone. Recently I visited Bristol, a city where I lived for several years, and walked to a particular nature reserve where I often used to sit. To my delight, it was almost unchanged - a few more interpretive signs, that was all - and I sat in my old spot, soaking it in. That journey had an element of pilgrimage. </p><p>There also seems to be a strong theme of appreciating the landscape as you walk through it, not just focusing on the final destination. Don't go too quickly. Notice what is around you. Try to include sacred sites along the way - stone circles, village churches, ancient wells. Many emphasize the care for creation that comes with reconnecting with the landscape, too.</p><h2 style="text-align: left;">Purpose</h2><p></p><blockquote>Some people focus their pilgrimage around a particular intention,
specifically meaningful to them, whereas other people don’t know what
intention to choose, but are open to whatever the pilgrimage brings
them, and are willing to be changed by it.</blockquote><p style="margin-left: 160px; text-align: left;"> <a href="https://britishpilgrimage.org/how-to-turn-your-daily-walk-into-a-pilgrimage/">Pilgrimage Basics</a>, The British Pilgrimage Trust </p> Intention is a word that comes up often, which to some extent means: If you say it's a pilgrimage, it <i>is</i> a pilgrimage. The intention is what matters. It doesn't have to be a certain distance, a certain place, or even involve a floppy hat. A pilgrimage can be a trek to the Holy Land, or a walk around the garden.<p></p><p>During the lockdown discussions about online Communion, I realized my theology of Communion was similar. There are things which make a service more recognizably Communion - bread, wine, liturgy, nicely ironed white cloths. But if you've got a chocolate biscuit, some fruit juice, and someone on the other side of a computer screen, and you still intend to meet Jesus through that; well, I'm not going to say that's not Communion.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisInT8Am33wnoiVrKOTtg7vChdRrLzkqaLfWxkJI4FCZPoJzgVsA3h37v1pjgK0CHCA4fKlZ6g4G45BDyKelTOXWmJeLlaCb2W6ymt-LHBxCwUusSLDhd6bqxVjwH2M1MGGAe8ofi9M4H7Wt054RvbYodvFKEJZHsCHUOji2lqGmbDKSpMZJ5MROTp/s1280/st%20joseph%20mont%20royal.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisInT8Am33wnoiVrKOTtg7vChdRrLzkqaLfWxkJI4FCZPoJzgVsA3h37v1pjgK0CHCA4fKlZ6g4G45BDyKelTOXWmJeLlaCb2W6ymt-LHBxCwUusSLDhd6bqxVjwH2M1MGGAe8ofi9M4H7Wt054RvbYodvFKEJZHsCHUOji2lqGmbDKSpMZJ5MROTp/s320/st%20joseph%20mont%20royal.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St Joseph's Oratory<br /></td></tr></tbody></table> <p></p><p>On pilgrimage, people often go with more specific purposes, too. Many pilgrimage sites were places of healing. I remember visiting Saint Joseph's Oratory in Montreal, where there are hundreds of crutches displayed inside, reportedly left by those who had been healed. Some pilgrims make a journey in memory of a relative who has died, while others are trying to make sense of knotty questions or situations.</p><p>Whatever the purpose, many people speak of something that draws them to a particular route or place, a sense of longing which finally pushes them out of the door and onto the road. </p><h2 style="text-align: left;">People</h2><p></p><blockquote><p>I could see that this crowd of pilgrims, my Camino cohort, was not extraneous to my journey, it was central. We were part of each other's story.</p></blockquote><p style="margin-left: 160px; text-align: left;"><i>Pilgrim</i> by Kari Gillespie <br /></p><p>I expect I'm not the only one who thinks of pilgrimage as a solitary endeavour. Like a retreat, it has a sense of getting away from it all to discover your inner self. But as Kari Gillespie discovered when she set out to walk the Camino de Santiago, you never do it entirely alone. The companions that you travel with, and those that you meet on the way, are an important part of the journey. <br /></p><p>Long-distance walking seems to bond people together particularly strongly. I recently discovered the blog of Tim Greig (no relation to Pete Greig of 24-7 Prayer, who is also just starting a pilgrimage!). Tim has made an extended pilgrimage every year since 2016, and it's fascinating to see names pop up over and over, as he makes friends on one walk and reconnects with them on subsequent treks.</p><p>Especially for solo travellers, the chance encounters with others along the way become special. Kari and Tim both refer to "Camino angels", who appear when desperately needed, to offer food, comfort, or shelter.<br /></p><h2 style="text-align: left;">Presence</h2><p></p><blockquote>Stand in the presence / Though you cannot name it / By any name, or only one</blockquote><p style="margin-left: 160px; text-align: left;"><i>The Sacred Way</i> by Jay Ramsay <br /></p><p></p><p>There are two aspects to presence in pilgrimage. The first is the awareness that you, the pilgrim, have of your surroundings: being present to what is occurring moment by moment. The second is that elusive goal which the journey hopes to achieve: finding the presence of the divine.</p><p>A pilgrimage is the antithesis of the kind of journey where you seal yourself in a metal vehicle, plug in your headphones, and look at a screen until it's all over. The aim is to be constantly awake to what is around you - even when that is pouring rain, knee-deep mud, and blisters! Lacy, on <a href="https://www.asacredjourney.net/staying-present/">A Sacred Journey</a> website, writes: "In order to experience the transformation that they seek, the pilgrim
knows it is important to stay present to the journey at hand." She offers suggestions for ways to do this, including naming a theme or reflecting on specific questions each day.</p><p>The destination is often somewhere revered as a "thin place", where the supernatural is more easily sensed. Perhaps someone had a vision there once before, or the building has been hallowed by thousands of years of prayer. By travelling there, you hope to sense a little of that specialness for yourself.</p><p>Martin and Nigel Palmer, in their book <i>Sacred Britain</i>, caution, "While the places we shall take you to are often powerful in their sense of the divine, they require something from you as well". On a practical level, they warn against rushing in just before closing time. But on a spiritual level, I think they are trying to say that being present yourself, through the highs and lows of the journey, is the surest route into sensing the presence of God. In the end, the two aspects of presence turn out to be one and the same. And your long walk becomes a pilgrimage.<br /></p><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgviQVgrry-ASUSQcqSFh1VQgqj1YTTRP35q24DuIASWwxZvrhwfubMUxCl0oUF4CSIPLYu-v1TpKXSlaEao0yfDFoY1AYzN2Dwzii9OM-SP71H1es9TLpvUQ3fuf81Qj_gV5zVWF2xrsQ0oTYUlvGGwpSNsSX9O11RROzrH-5oX4qcKUR0VViz3jvR/s1920/milky-way-1023340_1920.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1920" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgviQVgrry-ASUSQcqSFh1VQgqj1YTTRP35q24DuIASWwxZvrhwfubMUxCl0oUF4CSIPLYu-v1TpKXSlaEao0yfDFoY1AYzN2Dwzii9OM-SP71H1es9TLpvUQ3fuf81Qj_gV5zVWF2xrsQ0oTYUlvGGwpSNsSX9O11RROzrH-5oX4qcKUR0VViz3jvR/s320/milky-way-1023340_1920.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><h2 style="text-align: left;">Bibliography</h2><p><i>Sacred Britain: A Guide to the Sacred Sites and Pilgrim Routes of England, Scotland and Wales</i> by Martin Palmer and Nigel Palmer - which contains the poem <i>The Sacred Way </i>by Jay Ramsay<br /></p><p><i>Pilgrim: Finding a New Way on the Camino de Santiago</i> by Kari Gillespie</p><p><i>The Art of Pilgrimage: The Seeker's Guide to Making Travel Sacred</i> by Phil Cousineau</p><p><a href="https://britishpilgrimage.org/">The British Pilgrimage Trust</a></p><p><a href="https://www.asacredjourney.net/">A Sacred Journey</a></p><p>Tim Greig's blog <a href="https://timgreig.co.uk/">Pilgrimage</a><br /></p>Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939677568760609000.post-46691511963070298722023-05-27T16:13:00.002-05:002023-05-27T16:22:25.719-05:00National Forest Way: Rangemore to Rosliston<p>I covered Stages 10 and 9 of the <a href="https://www.nationalforest.org/visit/national-forest-way-downloads" target="_blank">National Forest Way</a> in three Monday morning walks. We've had some beautiful weather lately, so it's been lovely to get out.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNYSMUedGdOGWt1a7SP5ASv_tUF-6MVQyhlVzXxmfZs7_aiu22LRT32gYAbXOj-HTnlfZKNEAvTJfh5W7YYDz4lIDRTGfi5W76R3e38RYF0Y4MTyCQIcr0gIBVCYI--ouA0XFz55tkgoLHtGmjwPVo2eqQskW0eaUdXCy0lOncMDHrBl7cmt01umJA/s3264/IMG_20230515_091516163.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNYSMUedGdOGWt1a7SP5ASv_tUF-6MVQyhlVzXxmfZs7_aiu22LRT32gYAbXOj-HTnlfZKNEAvTJfh5W7YYDz4lIDRTGfi5W76R3e38RYF0Y4MTyCQIcr0gIBVCYI--ouA0XFz55tkgoLHtGmjwPVo2eqQskW0eaUdXCy0lOncMDHrBl7cmt01umJA/s320/IMG_20230515_091516163.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><h3 style="text-align: left;">Walk One</h3><p>I approached the first walk with some trepidation. The route took me through Tatenhill Woods, which has become known in our family as a place where anything could happen. The first time we went there, the paths were ankle-deep in mud; the second, we got caught in a summer thunderstorm and soaked to the skin! Fortunately this time the weather stayed calm and clear, and there wasn't as much mud as I expected.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDmsfaLoOoGOeS2gxZrEOBHG6i_So8wARnzSqtkE4H_l5QPft7JK8nI_uCyEuK5VMmH0_0ylTECAIk_WCW_swOY2G8ctxJ5F6qnXVJ_JN0r0ZM_rN5wnm4Kjqs6uNaUQrFOQZRqMdyutbcwGopmxfkTwe0QK40EwCIuXEki0uEW0CrabGtWWfkNCku/s3264/IMG_20230424_103405368.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDmsfaLoOoGOeS2gxZrEOBHG6i_So8wARnzSqtkE4H_l5QPft7JK8nI_uCyEuK5VMmH0_0ylTECAIk_WCW_swOY2G8ctxJ5F6qnXVJ_JN0r0ZM_rN5wnm4Kjqs6uNaUQrFOQZRqMdyutbcwGopmxfkTwe0QK40EwCIuXEki0uEW0CrabGtWWfkNCku/s320/IMG_20230424_103405368.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLBU8XDeafBRMXfKxVgs8crHviZNNR4H7-8Rh62c34tXUYCE2zmDcB57vKbP76GiZ6FMzLwwCBmgQE6gfUm09IDth8gyqHuE420bnCepOGO7IJgWLRnBCZZ2kRhdUq_54v1Z1mxYMkqy4vtp-Da8IxaPDdlTF4Q-FvseryY-hc2OWC0BknZ48Z9Gj2/s3264/IMG_20230424_102817656.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLBU8XDeafBRMXfKxVgs8crHviZNNR4H7-8Rh62c34tXUYCE2zmDcB57vKbP76GiZ6FMzLwwCBmgQE6gfUm09IDth8gyqHuE420bnCepOGO7IJgWLRnBCZZ2kRhdUq_54v1Z1mxYMkqy4vtp-Da8IxaPDdlTF4Q-FvseryY-hc2OWC0BknZ48Z9Gj2/s320/IMG_20230424_102817656.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">view towards Tatenhill Woods</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Heading out of Rangemore, the Way took me over rolling fields with views north to the cooling towers at Willington. The bluebells were out in full force, and lambs were bouncing across the grass. Having successfully navigated the woods, I stopped for a snack on Battlestead Hill, then dropped down to walk alongside quarry workings and streams. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBXP_4r2d_8WjeuVNlOviVYGKWeV5e09F_hyRx9LlD8oPO6jtA_S98uDuTVXVQ_x7gLh1X3kWkPWx4OyEAyWB2XjNYnsqzK0mgQ14KqBDE3wg9_AujpwCEtxw1cXZbRvNP6IY1ijYVQLA52yfVw4RUksZa6OF2sLtIdifGocWoH9urlAZT1Lmnv4RS/s3264/IMG_20230424_100336505.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBXP_4r2d_8WjeuVNlOviVYGKWeV5e09F_hyRx9LlD8oPO6jtA_S98uDuTVXVQ_x7gLh1X3kWkPWx4OyEAyWB2XjNYnsqzK0mgQ14KqBDE3wg9_AujpwCEtxw1cXZbRvNP6IY1ijYVQLA52yfVw4RUksZa6OF2sLtIdifGocWoH9urlAZT1Lmnv4RS/s320/IMG_20230424_100336505.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg30tFi3U-MMxuqZtLNCjpb5gm-TYdqrsys5czW6t9PA1UX2tX10j5pfrbaOzDfYd_wEcnY4Ia5AQxI5e_3xIgsIrjWt8eqPopuswn_hr4Khp4HLgjrJ7atRoAriJz5v8fg2TaoWTSpq8kJJvq6TQ8cRNYwL6SxY7O_oZMdXW2edkoAi0Z5LKx4m3fg/s3264/IMG_20230424_111825266.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg30tFi3U-MMxuqZtLNCjpb5gm-TYdqrsys5czW6t9PA1UX2tX10j5pfrbaOzDfYd_wEcnY4Ia5AQxI5e_3xIgsIrjWt8eqPopuswn_hr4Khp4HLgjrJ7atRoAriJz5v8fg2TaoWTSpq8kJJvq6TQ8cRNYwL6SxY7O_oZMdXW2edkoAi0Z5LKx4m3fg/s320/IMG_20230424_111825266.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_2iAhGjsCI6Y7R_PO9N8_Es-lBeVQddR9kg9KDIwXQUjVfDJc_PC-n18B88x7smUo0Vd6gvwI1i6JBsUSNOS83CIuRcOQrqIePO8EmD4LqolGajnn1UP2tmMn4gTzWd6ny3W1-N3bnd01jhUJuEHhoG12oXqXNsp5VLR6dNB4yyvsoO7S31YLy9WT/s3264/IMG_20230424_104822960.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_2iAhGjsCI6Y7R_PO9N8_Es-lBeVQddR9kg9KDIwXQUjVfDJc_PC-n18B88x7smUo0Vd6gvwI1i6JBsUSNOS83CIuRcOQrqIePO8EmD4LqolGajnn1UP2tmMn4gTzWd6ny3W1-N3bnd01jhUJuEHhoG12oXqXNsp5VLR6dNB4yyvsoO7S31YLy9WT/s320/IMG_20230424_104822960.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">view from Battlestead Hill</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>If I'd had a little longer, it would have been easy enough to walk to Branston Water Park and finish Stage 10. However, I'd left both Graham and Theo ill in bed, so I stopped about a mile short. I took a shortcut back through the neatly groomed Prince's Wood to Tatenhill village, then across the fields again to Rangemore.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGi-IB7A4tV3mI0M1Vp7A6COyeshgax-4iCcOrdv_ZIHMWx3KVF4ezrDf91yppnZ4mCSDqHhmetj9IyHML4PRBSpAL7ecs-Y-z2N54B0BmFkJEBqnqqUm0j3bOE2TM3kAq8aYArUAwuCOTl5lvYHv-hdiKMKId3P7F2-3UI18_htJYOFdbks_y708d/s3264/IMG_20230424_110920353.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGi-IB7A4tV3mI0M1Vp7A6COyeshgax-4iCcOrdv_ZIHMWx3KVF4ezrDf91yppnZ4mCSDqHhmetj9IyHML4PRBSpAL7ecs-Y-z2N54B0BmFkJEBqnqqUm0j3bOE2TM3kAq8aYArUAwuCOTl5lvYHv-hdiKMKId3P7F2-3UI18_htJYOFdbks_y708d/s320/IMG_20230424_110920353.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tatenhill tulips!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;">Walk Two</h3><p>The next Monday was a Bank Holiday. We had plans for later in the day, so I set my alarm clock early and hit the path by 7am. This section was a complete contrast to the previous one. It was so flat that I didn't cross a single contour line, and so industrialised that I should think every inch of the ground has been dug up repeatedly. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu5_yRxdUqrZzT7_UV3fxPltI2vb-RIiPwigwrVssLFlLUKiDXqPTMV1mhI6hrDfIKL5qZCnei2v461cd9Lg2--U1OYdoIkO65AdD2YPimpSLlKQlKGa2zRFqTTwOx8ZCGqOAJjQp8hEo4oAODBhd2Caqjhrt4XX4KQ_-025P3H6CAeJD95lmMbs-W/s3264/IMG_20230501_085232197.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu5_yRxdUqrZzT7_UV3fxPltI2vb-RIiPwigwrVssLFlLUKiDXqPTMV1mhI6hrDfIKL5qZCnei2v461cd9Lg2--U1OYdoIkO65AdD2YPimpSLlKQlKGa2zRFqTTwOx8ZCGqOAJjQp8hEo4oAODBhd2Caqjhrt4XX4KQ_-025P3H6CAeJD95lmMbs-W/s320/IMG_20230501_085232197.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">some of it is still being dug up...</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>I started by finding my previous end-point and doing the last mile up the Trent and Mersey Canal (the earliest digging-up) to Branston Water Park (previously quarried for gravel). A foot tunnel took me under the A38 dual carriageway (more earth-moving) to a new housing estate (yep, more diggers). I crossed the mainline railway (you guessed it) and reached the River Trent. A sign informed me that the river, like its surroundings, was in a constant state of change.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEK9sjcX0_ksP08cC-VpcykLipiiR9iNLybYZuhdC6EsUj3bvY0Y-Mdzh4xHX1aCuYeyWPFHd_UCVItBPdhQGjEqhMdOtI71_L8cfneMJiuDsuJZVKMnj-r4DN40I-g2nfhwjrGbzy9kzh2bxmjYZH5_pfRoSpRaKiNeGOg9P-CyvLrKSRlWZra3jO/s3264/IMG_20230501_071712021.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEK9sjcX0_ksP08cC-VpcykLipiiR9iNLybYZuhdC6EsUj3bvY0Y-Mdzh4xHX1aCuYeyWPFHd_UCVItBPdhQGjEqhMdOtI71_L8cfneMJiuDsuJZVKMnj-r4DN40I-g2nfhwjrGbzy9kzh2bxmjYZH5_pfRoSpRaKiNeGOg9P-CyvLrKSRlWZra3jO/s320/IMG_20230501_071712021.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tatenhill Lock, on the Trent & Mersey</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcxyYFfPoWUbT9RJzmaTtBKvKrEp72R5FADJxF82yFK0rRVux_fVHzK6fWdXl7oUm9yZbpdNnMAsjBh5c0rLpMHj8O27-u-cDmTyABWV63lBIpwO_kiWREaeiFdR7dwCOaEPd39ZImfSCUYD1tJY5pWtMaDAcvUWDhC0KwDXUrPdGZI3mK_sj-C10F/s3264/IMG_20230501_073333542.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcxyYFfPoWUbT9RJzmaTtBKvKrEp72R5FADJxF82yFK0rRVux_fVHzK6fWdXl7oUm9yZbpdNnMAsjBh5c0rLpMHj8O27-u-cDmTyABWV63lBIpwO_kiWREaeiFdR7dwCOaEPd39ZImfSCUYD1tJY5pWtMaDAcvUWDhC0KwDXUrPdGZI3mK_sj-C10F/s320/IMG_20230501_073333542.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">rather nice mural by the A38 tunnel</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwDCJB6cSVoT2VrSjCLqr1D5_teU1XCCAFshB0g-PUcb7QK-MYdVERqrmhKxeJ9Fc807QkFKq9e5Qwi-Qj-AqEZ3oM68LK9pxmhuTjWNQHPs0h5tF0eJ5bOT-nfuz8f_DChnivlR3B0NafEtUU2AjLytnbV5FZ3VI8-TBiWFBO0w5a0CjNNtibHuEx/s3264/IMG_20230501_080007761.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwDCJB6cSVoT2VrSjCLqr1D5_teU1XCCAFshB0g-PUcb7QK-MYdVERqrmhKxeJ9Fc807QkFKq9e5Qwi-Qj-AqEZ3oM68LK9pxmhuTjWNQHPs0h5tF0eJ5bOT-nfuz8f_DChnivlR3B0NafEtUU2AjLytnbV5FZ3VI8-TBiWFBO0w5a0CjNNtibHuEx/s320/IMG_20230501_080007761.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">NFW waypost by the River Trent</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Tucklesholme Nature Reserve is an example of things changing back to nature. It used to be a quarry, but the heavy machinery has been replaced by coots, swans and ducks, enjoying what is now a large lake next to the Trent. I re-crossed the railway and A38, and followed the Trent & Mersey Canal back to my starting point. Once the canal was the major transport artery, but now it's a ribbon of calm next to the truck-infested main road. A large heron let me get quite close before it flapped off. Back at Branston, the gulls were making as much noise as any trucks, the car park was filling up, and the day had well and truly started.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeUmrx5Rac8BO2GcuQBUdwF-txhYJ8Lewdpz1GbGf5Vl_0LbF_WKjjXLbyj1EBOHot8cBvS_h65eJLy9Srm57nElnJTyZeWjyAejI5e9JyffyN6c6qAqRTgIBmDhfsYhucFeE5oPyJ7x_LnmRy6CO4cNOFXJdB4T2llwQO_RYB9Y1wg5ICqdg8O9BF/s2592/IMG_20230501_082340597.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1952" data-original-width="2592" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeUmrx5Rac8BO2GcuQBUdwF-txhYJ8Lewdpz1GbGf5Vl_0LbF_WKjjXLbyj1EBOHot8cBvS_h65eJLy9Srm57nElnJTyZeWjyAejI5e9JyffyN6c6qAqRTgIBmDhfsYhucFeE5oPyJ7x_LnmRy6CO4cNOFXJdB4T2llwQO_RYB9Y1wg5ICqdg8O9BF/s320/IMG_20230501_082340597.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">morning coffee at Tucklesholme</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Bi6jT0dV1Yk5E4zbVCdxrYroLwvbNsn7W6tSlDpHIUJc0AOJR-O4-s1hNL2HbU-ycytCWiWubSVsfsD7o0cpfFXUW06h3I-6_g-VcbAi9gLd0llADlk50ptvI-vAVH2ZxUfnwug8W1psWfvpyiECrIcGCKLt8KMTskj5JaOdayM7ATc56Kx9aYTJ/s3264/IMG_20230515_090522497.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Bi6jT0dV1Yk5E4zbVCdxrYroLwvbNsn7W6tSlDpHIUJc0AOJR-O4-s1hNL2HbU-ycytCWiWubSVsfsD7o0cpfFXUW06h3I-6_g-VcbAi9gLd0llADlk50ptvI-vAVH2ZxUfnwug8W1psWfvpyiECrIcGCKLt8KMTskj5JaOdayM7ATc56Kx9aYTJ/s320/IMG_20230515_090522497.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;">Walk Three</h3><p>My final walk in this section took me across the River Trent to the small village of Walton-on-Trent. From there, the path across the fields looked easy to follow, but the grass had grown tall, and I had to check the map a few times to find the right track. I was glad the knee-high grass wasn't dripping wet!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRW06mMxesvFZHEWaeYqjuL84bq8fLHjsmCdwoYq7p4NUr9RT8QD3r5ccfzxFeX2_IONZBy6JcvuC5fwFIBGFc6Kw0xdAPTj7QGO5r6SR-TIm3OnLAqdel0spxCzp2eaYlNXOfYbZHrnmwI0Ej_3_OvXW4k0cGd441zv_sCeF4SnQECk5GVCmF3nvy/s3264/IMG_20230515_091702664.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRW06mMxesvFZHEWaeYqjuL84bq8fLHjsmCdwoYq7p4NUr9RT8QD3r5ccfzxFeX2_IONZBy6JcvuC5fwFIBGFc6Kw0xdAPTj7QGO5r6SR-TIm3OnLAqdel0spxCzp2eaYlNXOfYbZHrnmwI0Ej_3_OvXW4k0cGd441zv_sCeF4SnQECk5GVCmF3nvy/s320/IMG_20230515_091702664.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">crossing the Trent</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>At Rosliston, the small parish church had its door open, so I stuck my head in and was warmly welcomed by the vicar, who was waiting for school pupils to arrive for a visit. The church had a buttercup-yellow ceiling, and looked like a cheerful place in which to worship. It was just around the corner from the Rosliston Forestry Centre, which marked the end of Stage 9. I had a quick coffee in the cafe there before embarking on the return journey.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitJZHpnKRLaMRErSfLhhLTVbWbVe8mD3HZRoZPPYjLD0Dg32VvlDVBCEJgAtfkIrMnZ7ic9GAzIA5-l_Qm_BvQwddMhqLtKYmjecqKkap-7n4XIjFoBvkThu7VhQcOYzUgYFFD7CexNcKaT-ZLeRfCNWLy2AoBfrjZ2GiP7oKk31QuJWHlj-StKR8C/s3264/IMG_20230515_102627308.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitJZHpnKRLaMRErSfLhhLTVbWbVe8mD3HZRoZPPYjLD0Dg32VvlDVBCEJgAtfkIrMnZ7ic9GAzIA5-l_Qm_BvQwddMhqLtKYmjecqKkap-7n4XIjFoBvkThu7VhQcOYzUgYFFD7CexNcKaT-ZLeRfCNWLy2AoBfrjZ2GiP7oKk31QuJWHlj-StKR8C/s320/IMG_20230515_102627308.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>The road back to Walton was the epitome of an English country lane - verges crowded with cow parsley, nettles and hawthorn; views across grassy meadows; and even, to my delight, the call of a cuckoo somewhere close by. The rarity of that sound is a sad reminder of how much we have recently lost from our countryside. What's left is still beautiful and exuberant, though, and only too willing to return if we give it a chance. I hope we do.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgec_8SVunIrSkzGZijTB14hwBLChlx2A42WIvRcz8XmBMF5ZIZIFWIEYNUh9QHC_sWjD9DoFidQb55fP0HOQgo9YKBugibxgTK7pKaLV1V_TQN4Epfeubt_g0Rs_Ix2gz7KW0A_9AFln0aSP_Urj9Mr6UiLpyoSqg79bGUavCdqNm-bPnxAmhPncH0/s3264/IMG_20230515_090807391.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgec_8SVunIrSkzGZijTB14hwBLChlx2A42WIvRcz8XmBMF5ZIZIFWIEYNUh9QHC_sWjD9DoFidQb55fP0HOQgo9YKBugibxgTK7pKaLV1V_TQN4Epfeubt_g0Rs_Ix2gz7KW0A_9AFln0aSP_Urj9Mr6UiLpyoSqg79bGUavCdqNm-bPnxAmhPncH0/s320/IMG_20230515_090807391.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />For Stages 11 and 12, see <a href="https://www.marthasmunchies.com/2023/04/walking-national-forest-way-with-two.html">this post</a>. I'm walking west to east, which is why the stages are numbered in reverse.Marthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12664765129926771287noreply@blogger.com0