Edwin
01-12-2010, 04:56 PM
Used to live about eight miles to the south of the Ridgeway, the great ancient trackway that stretches from the coast of dorset to the Shore of Norfolk. This was on the original Ridgeway not the bits now designated as the lond distance footpath. The best bit of it, for me was the turf-lined chalk track across the Downs. In the days before 4x4s and trail bikes had cut it up into mud or through to the bare chalk.
Left work in Swindon and got to Goring-on-Thames by train after 6 in the evening. Me changing for a trek at work always gave them some amusement and concern if I left a piece of equipment behind.
Walked across the Thames and into and out of Streatley by a long pull up onto the Downs where it started raining. The idea was to walk home along the Ridgeway by next day ( forty+ miles). Kept walking into the rain and made mistake of seeking shelter under a small disused railway bridge which acted like a wind tunnel. Found a bit more shelter and managed a brew.
On along the track skirting an agricultural research station and fields of maize. Weather lightened and the late Sun brough tout that fantastic cloud shadows over the Downs.
Dark fell and I kept walking, had paused to straighten socks, I always relish the pleasure of pulling socks up and smooth in the boot against the soles of the feet.
Stars were out and competed with the lights of Harwell Atomic Research Station which, like brightly lit things at night seemed very close. Went on a visit there once and stood on a reactor which seemed to be the thing to do then but our radiation badges were returned as normal so probably OK. Wonder if one can now.
Dark under foot and stumbled sometimes on cross ridges or nearly bumped into bit of farm machinery left by the side of the green road. Started crossing country roads as it was getting late but here was a new hazard. These bits of track by the roads were favourite pull-ins for couples, on their own in pre-dogging days, but nevertheless unlikely to be amused if I bumped against their car as I edged past.
Went wrong once when I walked onto a practice horse-race track and nearly followed the smoother turf round instead of the Ridgeway. Tried not to use a torch as starlight is good enough most of the time. Dawn rose when near Weylands Smithy, the Neolithic long barrow where one used to be able to leave a horse that had cast a shoe and an invisible blacksmith would shoe it for a sixpence, so they said.
Plenty of dry twigs from the trees there and stopped for a a snooze and a brew on a little wigwam of a fire. The bitter milkless tea bit through the clag of the short sleep and set me up for the last bit.
Up and on to that stretch from Weyland's to Barbury Castle meeting morning dog walkers. So down to Avebury and a triumphant tour of the earthworks, a pint in the Red Lion Inn before walking home and getting in by three in the afternoon.
Solitary walks weren't lonely with just the sound of the wind and one's boots on the turf or the chalk they let the imagination take wings. When I was tired and cold about eleven there was an envy of the passengers of planes or of cars whose lights I could see but little of the distant flicker of televisions I could see in my mind down in those little lit hamlets.
Don't know if there was much bushcraft involved except for the fire lighting using dried grass stems and odd leaves as tinder, absurdly proud if I only needed one match.
Getting water on the Downs used to be an art before water points were established making the Ridgeway a jaunt not a challenge. We would climb into a field and bale the water out of a cattle trough until the level was below the intake valve, lift an end cover, rinse the spout a bit and fill our bottles. Sometimes would carry iodine to sterilise the water or would boil it but often didn't bother.
Equipment: Frameless rucksack, poncho, parachute smock, woolly hat,matches, brew can, mug, water bottle, jumper, tea, tin of soup and a bit of bread and cheese and (the secret weapon) two Mars Bars.
If you live near enough why not try this?
http://ridgeway40.org.uk/
Left work in Swindon and got to Goring-on-Thames by train after 6 in the evening. Me changing for a trek at work always gave them some amusement and concern if I left a piece of equipment behind.
Walked across the Thames and into and out of Streatley by a long pull up onto the Downs where it started raining. The idea was to walk home along the Ridgeway by next day ( forty+ miles). Kept walking into the rain and made mistake of seeking shelter under a small disused railway bridge which acted like a wind tunnel. Found a bit more shelter and managed a brew.
On along the track skirting an agricultural research station and fields of maize. Weather lightened and the late Sun brough tout that fantastic cloud shadows over the Downs.
Dark fell and I kept walking, had paused to straighten socks, I always relish the pleasure of pulling socks up and smooth in the boot against the soles of the feet.
Stars were out and competed with the lights of Harwell Atomic Research Station which, like brightly lit things at night seemed very close. Went on a visit there once and stood on a reactor which seemed to be the thing to do then but our radiation badges were returned as normal so probably OK. Wonder if one can now.
Dark under foot and stumbled sometimes on cross ridges or nearly bumped into bit of farm machinery left by the side of the green road. Started crossing country roads as it was getting late but here was a new hazard. These bits of track by the roads were favourite pull-ins for couples, on their own in pre-dogging days, but nevertheless unlikely to be amused if I bumped against their car as I edged past.
Went wrong once when I walked onto a practice horse-race track and nearly followed the smoother turf round instead of the Ridgeway. Tried not to use a torch as starlight is good enough most of the time. Dawn rose when near Weylands Smithy, the Neolithic long barrow where one used to be able to leave a horse that had cast a shoe and an invisible blacksmith would shoe it for a sixpence, so they said.
Plenty of dry twigs from the trees there and stopped for a a snooze and a brew on a little wigwam of a fire. The bitter milkless tea bit through the clag of the short sleep and set me up for the last bit.
Up and on to that stretch from Weyland's to Barbury Castle meeting morning dog walkers. So down to Avebury and a triumphant tour of the earthworks, a pint in the Red Lion Inn before walking home and getting in by three in the afternoon.
Solitary walks weren't lonely with just the sound of the wind and one's boots on the turf or the chalk they let the imagination take wings. When I was tired and cold about eleven there was an envy of the passengers of planes or of cars whose lights I could see but little of the distant flicker of televisions I could see in my mind down in those little lit hamlets.
Don't know if there was much bushcraft involved except for the fire lighting using dried grass stems and odd leaves as tinder, absurdly proud if I only needed one match.
Getting water on the Downs used to be an art before water points were established making the Ridgeway a jaunt not a challenge. We would climb into a field and bale the water out of a cattle trough until the level was below the intake valve, lift an end cover, rinse the spout a bit and fill our bottles. Sometimes would carry iodine to sterilise the water or would boil it but often didn't bother.
Equipment: Frameless rucksack, poncho, parachute smock, woolly hat,matches, brew can, mug, water bottle, jumper, tea, tin of soup and a bit of bread and cheese and (the secret weapon) two Mars Bars.
If you live near enough why not try this?
http://ridgeway40.org.uk/