Dog training? It's a long way As Julia was still in London, Diana drove me to Meidrim to start the day’s walk. She had offered to look after one or both of the dogs, but it would mean shutting them in or tying them up, as the goose, peacock, hens, sheep, cattle and dogs here would be far too tempting for Rudi and Fritz to ignore! So I took them both with me and we walked quiet lanes that rose and fell steeply in the hilly countryside. Originally it was going to be a short day – just five miles – but it seemed sensible to add on some of tomorrow’s, as in the late afternoon we’re due to move on to our next motor home location. Dropping down from Llanboidy I was due to take to footpaths again, but when I located the spot beside a closed pottery, the grey post stood by the roadside but someone had removed the footpath sign. My heart sank. Was this going to be another case of unfriendly locals not encouraging walkers? I walked to the end of the buildings and peered round the corner into what appeared to be a neglected garden. The temptation to turn round and walk the road was almost overwhelming, but somehow I found the courage to go on and was rewarded with a lovely path through a wood beside a river that had been recently walked. Waymarks appeared indicating that we were on the Borderland Trail and I wondered whether this would be a repeat of the situation between Bedfordshire and South Northamptonshire – when the paths suddenly became a joy to walk. The day did indeed proceed to be delightful and topping a hill, I looked back over the miles I’d come to the distant misty Brecons. We did have one incident, when the drovers’ road split into three options, the most likely one in the middle being barred by a gate that had a spring catch far too tight for me to budge. I chose the parallel footpath, but quickly realised it was turning away in the wrong direction. I knew I couldn’t open the gate to the correct path and if I climbed it, there was no way the dogs could get under or over it. So I decided we’d climb over the intervening bank and scale the wire fence. Thankfully there was no barbed wire in sight. The mossy bank sloped steeply, leaving a gap at the top between bank and fence which I assessed the dogs would be able to jump. Telling them to wait, I climbed over first. Then Rudi, with his long legs and light body, sprang into the air and leapt across. Now it was poor old Fritz’ turn, with his short legs and stocky body. He made a valiant attempt but landed in a heap at the foot of the bank, wedged against the fence. He began to cry and I reassured him, told him to wait and climbed back to his side. To lift him would be difficult, because of the gap, so I decided to crouch down between the bank and the fence, forming a bridge for him to get across. He just couldn’t get the hang of that. He got very upset and kept coming down to lick my face. I was gesturing wildly to my back: “Go on Fritz. Jump up!” I kept saying, but it was no good. I had to resort to lifting him as high as I could and holding him out over the wire fence. Rudi was below and didn’t like the idea of being bombed by his brother, so he started growling, with Fritz joining in. For a few moments it was mayhem, but then I managed somehow to give Fritz a shove and he landed safely on the other side. Staying at this idyllic location with Diana and Geoff has been a real treat – especially being able to use their bathroom. This gave the first chance in over seven weeks to weigh myself and even though I knew my trousers were beginning to look like Charlie Chaplin’s, I was rather stunned to see I’ve lost more than a stone. |