I want to kiss a fish! After something of a struggle yesterday, the mini Granny Trek at Hay on Wye today has been wonderful. A large crowd arrived from Newport U3A and a group of ladies came from Easton in Gordano – a Somerset village close to the site of the new Children’s Hospice SW. Janet Morgan, who had kindly planned the walk for me, also brought a couple of friends from Hay on Wye, so there must have been thirty of us who set off to walk up onto Hay Bluff. The rain threatened a few times but held off and though the breeze was chilly it was ideal walking weather. The scenery was spectacular and once again I found myself chatting with a variety of new and interesting people who share my love of being out in the open countryside and who were also immensely supportive of my efforts. Their contribution og over £300 to the Granny Trek fund was an added bonus and all in all they’ve given me a huge morale boost. Yesterday started well, although wet. The route was from Staunton on Wye to Hay on Wye and took Rudi and me over Bredwardine Hill. I had been amused at a section of the Wye Valley Walk guide book, which instructed walkers to go through a gate and walk up the side of a house! Going up the lane to the east side of the hill was exactly like that! We then had to climb stiles and steep fields on a path that came out at a farm. This was truly one man and his dog country, but unfortunately this farmer had five dogs and they all came out barking. The Wye Valley Walk emblem was nowhere to be seen, so being fearful for Rudi’s safety I shot through a gate bearing a bridle path arrow. Of course, this was the wrong gate, but it was in the right direction, and as the five dogs were still milling about on the other side of the gate, I decided discretion was the better part of valour and set off up the hill. There ensued almost an hour of struggling from field to field of long grass that had been flattened by the wind and rain into clumps that clutched at the boots. The gates were all in the wrong corners and everywhere else was secured by squared netting topped by a strand of barbed wire to about 3ft in height. At one point I felt sure I’d regained the path through the woods, but suddenly came to a clearing with a gate bearing a large sign – ‘No entry – no right of way’. This in itself wouldn’t have stopped me on this occasion, but the herd of cows, small calves and bull were another matter. Usually in this situation I find the bull looks pretty docile and is surrounded by his wives, but this bull was a different kettle of fish. He squared up to me on the other side of the gate and his body language said ‘How about it?’ I did a smart about turn and was soon back in the jigsaw puzzle of fields. It was tantalising, as I knew from the map and the GPS that we were very close to the path. Eventually I resorted to picking Rudi up, holding him against my chest and tipping him clear across the barbed wire. I then lay my lovely new backpack on the wire so that I could get across safely. Soon we went through yet another gate (all of them a real struggle to open and close) and at last saw the salmon emblem that denotes the Wye Valley Walk. I could have kissed it! As we walked along the delightful path bordered by tall ferns and foxgloves, I thought of the terrible struggles Ellen McArthur has when she’s tossed by gales and high seas and how wonderful it must be when the calm gives her respite. Mine was minimal compared to what she goes through, but nevertheless it must be a similar feeling. When I was lost it had been raining quite hard, but now the sun came out and the view far below to the winding river was a great reward for the climb. There were several more heavy showers through the day, but as we approached Hay on Wye we had virtually dried out in the breeze, so it was particularly cruel to have a real downpour in the last ten minutes. We walked through the streets absolutely dripping and were relieved to see Julia’s little car approaching us. She’s always there to meet me, no matter where or what time. She often has to wait for ages while I get lost at the last minute and spend ages sorting myself out, but she never complains. What luck for me that she agreed to come along as Granny’s Nanny. |