Tuesday 27 April - The Ridgeway

Where's Bertie? He's still at Bennet's Wood Farm.
Weather: Overcast and cooler than the last few days, but hardly any breeze. 

Last night, for the first time ever, I set the timer on Bertie's heating so that it would be warm by the time we needed to get up this morning (the temperature for the last two nights have been low single digits, giving us a morning internal temperature of around 8 degrees). I didn't trouble myself to read the instruction manual, but had a play with the control panel and the settings seemed simple enough to implement. Or so I thought. The lack of heat when I woke up suggests I may have to read the manual after all.

It was quarter to eight by the time we stepped into the cool of the morning and headed off down the road. Only two steep uphill pulls were to feature in our day, and the first came within the first 10 minutes. That got the circulation going!

There were no flying golf balls to heed as we crossed four fairways of the golf course, and before long we were passing the place where we had turned back towards Bertie on yesterday's walk. Today we were going significantly further, so onwards along The Ridgeway long distance path we went.

Motor vehicles are banned from the Byway between 1 October and 30 April, so the state of the ruts wasn't too bad.

Because The Ridgeway doesn't feature much ascent and descent, I'd decided that rather than running out for 20km and returning the same way, we would turn well before half way and throw in three loops on the way back, like this:

The plan and the reality weren't far adrift

All went swimmingly until a junction where the only Ridgeway sign was back the way we'd come. I looked at the map and declared that our way was straight on. It was only as we approached a road that I realised we had strayed from our intended path, although to no detriment as we'd accidentally done one of the return-leg's loops in reverse and a bit early.

A treadmill for horses, with all 4 bays in use as we passed

A place we were supposed to be, but not at that point in the route

The map had made it clear that it's racehorse country around here, and by now we were starting to see the adjacent gallops in use.

Having made it to the furthest point of the route, back on ourselves we came, ignoring the first loop (which we'd already done), but making sure to take the second. I'd done a fair bit of research last week trying to find somewhere we could buy food and water, so as not to need to carry a whole day's supplies with us, and the only place I found was the village store in Compton; it was thus imperative that we didn't omit that loop.

We only saw one bench in Compton and conveniently it was almost opposite the shop, so that's where we sat to put away a sandwich (me) and a large sausage roll (Mick). I've declared my lunch (which is what I'm calling it, even though it was only 11am) to be the best egg mayo sandwich I've ever had, although I acknowledge that the context in which I was eating it may have led to a bias.

In the absence of consistent sunshine, it was cool sitting on the bench, so we didn't take the full half hour break we'd allotted ourselves before heading back up to The Ridgeway.

Not the best air clarity, but still fine views

Approaching the final loop of the route, I checked the map and declared we needed to take the next turn. That we did, only to find 1km later that we'd turned a few metres too early onto a path going in a different direction. Fortunately, this area is absolutely littered with byways (and to a lesser extent footpaths) so it wasn't difficult to choose an alternative, but equally appropriate, loop.

A place we weren't supposed to be

Another place we weren't supposed to be

Our day had been more or less following a 1km run, 4 minute walk regime, modified ad hoc based on the lie of the land. That led us to run almost all of what would be our final descent of The Ridgeway, before we turned off for the final distance to Bertie.

Another place we weren't supposed to be, but we were there intentionally this time (incidentally: can you see the incredible (albeit accidental) colour coordination between my t-shirt and my pack?) 

I gave Mick the choice as to whether we returned via the outward route (across the golf course) or the slightly longer way we had returned from yesterday's walk. He opted for the latter, and with just two more sets of ups and downs, back to Bennet's Wood we came.

What a fine day out we had! On the one hand blue skies would have been nice, but on the other, the cloud cover kept us comfortable and meant we didn't run out of suncream. Arriving back at Bertie (at what felt like 5pm, but was actually 1.30!) we'd covered just over 40km with a modest 650m of ascent. Having not been to this area before, I'm taken aback by how sparsely populated and rural it is - and by the good quality of the paths hereabouts. I can see us returning in the future.

Down in a dip, with no road access, you suddenly stumble across a pretty cottage

Monday 26 April - Reading(ish)

Sunday and Monday, 25 & 26 April
Where's Bertie? He's at Bennet's Wood Farm, a certified (5-van) caravan site not far away from Streatley (Berkshire). It costs £5 per night to stay here.
Weather: Mainly sunny both Sunday and Monday and warm enough when in the sun and out of the wind.

The last time we saw younger (step-)son and associated grandchildren was at the end of 2019. Clearly, there was good reason why we didn't see them in person in 2020, but now it had started to feel appropriate to see people again we arranged an al-fresco meet-up.

I thought we may as well make a few days of it with a short break in the Chiltern Hills and as Bertie had been taxed earlier in the month, we selected him to provide us with our accommodation. By Wednesday, that will be a whole five nights' use he's had in the last 14 months. Poor chap must wonder what he's done to deserve this fate after all his prior adventures.

As it went we had trouble sourcing a campsite (mainly a failure to answer phones, one incidence of fullness and one incidence of 'How much?!'), which narrowed the options to Bennets Wood or the Caravan Club site at Henley-on-Thames. It wasn't the bargain price that swayed us to come here (on gut feel, I fancied Henley), but having planned a running route from both locations, the one from Henley looked too much of a navigational faff, whereas from here The Ridgeway surely will be easy to follow?

We left home on the dot of 8 o'clock yesterday morning and arrived on the dot of 11am, which was convenient, being exactly on time. We would have been early if it hadn't been for the roadworks on the approach to the M4 and the diversion that started with a suddden cry by the navigator (swiftly following an instruction of 'left at the roundabout') of 'Nooooo! Weight limit!'.

A lovely day was had catching up with everyone, picnicking in the sunshine and walking the dogs though the local woodland, before we made our way back past Reading to this site near Streatley. The directions in the Sites Directory weren't exaggerating when they referred to the last 1.5 miles of the approach as 'narrow and winding'. You wouldn't want to meet anything coming the other way, although judging by the grass and detritus in the middle of the road, it'd be bad luck if you did.

Knowing this site to be just a farmer's field with a tap and a drain, I had in my mind a lowland field, enclosed by hedges. It was thus a surprise to arrive to find we had this view from Bertie's windscreen:

Blue skies, red kites circling above, almost total peace and a view like that for £5 per night. What a rarity in the UK! The only small downside (literally) is that the field is on a slope that's a bit too much for our levelling blocks to flatten out. Oh, and we're up against the woodland, which is shading our solar panel, but hopefully enough rays are getting through to replace the small amount of power we've been using.

Not much has been done today, having opted to spend the morning drinking tea, reading our books and just enjoying being in Bertie again. This afternoon we took ourselves off for a stroll, which turned into a 6ish-mile circular walk, taking in the route we plan to take tomorrow to get to The Ridgeway. Hopefully the photos convey what a lovely, sparsely populated area this is.

There are houses, mainly dotted around in ones and twos, some in unexpected locations, and almost all of them eliciting an exclamation of "isn't that lovely?" from me as we passed. Unfortunately, I failed to take a snap of any of them, although I did take this one of a grand gateway and impressively trimmed yews:

Tomorrow we'll see if the route I've planned is as good in reality as it looks on the map. 

----------

Bonus snap for Conrad:

I'd never noticed a yellow latch on a kissing gate before. How funny to come across one only days after the discussion of the subject on Conrad's blog!

Lakeland 50 Recce - Mick's Turn

Tuesday 13 April

For what felt like the fifty-sixth day in a row, I didn't have a good night's sleep (1. It's my age; 2. It was actually the fifth night but the efforts of the day before made it feel like more) so it was a bit painful when the alarm went off at 0530. My first attempt at getting up was brief and lasted as long as it took for me to turn the fan heater on; it had been a cold night.

Happily, once I did drag myself out of bed I found my body to not just be in a fit state to drive, but in a good state overall. My legs didn't feel too bad so I was happy to take my share of the chores, albeit they were hampered by all of the campsite taps being frozen solid. Good job I'd stirred myself to fill the water bottles just before bed!

Whilst I had run from Pooley Bridge the previous day, it had occurred to me that there was no value in Mick also running the first section of road, particularly as I now knew that I could easily drop him off at the gate at the road end. It was just before half past seven when I did that and waved him off.

 Not as sunny as I'd had, but still excellent conditions

Straight around to Mardale Head I drove, to nab a good spot in the car park before it filled up (hmmm, only partially successful. I chose a spot where there was no chance of other cars making my exit manoeuvre awkward, but it was also fully in the shade and a bit of solar gain would have been nice). After having a tidy-up inside Erica, I decided the best use of my time would be to draw the curtains and have a kip. I failed, but did lie under a blanket in the dark until the alarm on my phone told me it was time to start looking out for Mick.

 

Not a breath of wind

He duly arrived, looking more fresh than I'd felt at this point, and told me about the people he'd met (in Fusedale another L50 entrant, who probably wouldn't be able to take part due to a knee operation; between High Kop and Low Kop a chap who Mick thought might be in trouble, but who had lost a glove) whilst I fed him a fried egg sandwich and chocolate biscuits, and set about restocking his bag with food and water.

Just over half an hour after arriving he was off again, soon finding his freshness leaving him as he hauled himself up to Gatescarth Pass. 

 

Heading up Gatescarth Pass

To my surprise, given his dislike of stony tracks, he didn't find Garburn Pass as unpleasant as I had (I'll put my dislike down to tiredness, as I don't usually mind such surfaces). Perhaps he was completely distracted by the enormous backpacks of a couple he could see ahead of him. As he caught them up, it was to the realisation that they were carrying bouldering mats - a local couple out in their backyard, he found out as he paused for a chat.

 

How can anyone (particularly someone with a dislike of stony tracks) prefer this to Gatescarth?!

 

Mick & I are on the same mobile phone network and I'd been able to send him regular messages the day before updating him of my progress. Unfortunately, during the afternoon, whether due to atmospheric conditions or inferior hardware*, he was unable to get a signal in the same places and thus by the time I heard from him I'd already sent him a message asking if he was still alive. Happily, he was, and towards the top of Garburn Pass he called me to report progress.

The time stamps on the received messages illustrate why we always make sure to state a 'sent' time within the message. 

That was at just gone 1430 at which time I, having been incredibly lazy all day, was still (dare I admit this?) in my pyjama top, having not felt the need to get fully dressed as I'd not been out anywhere (not counting driving as being 'out'). My knowledge that I should go for a leg-stretch was countered with the fact that I was nice and warm in Erica and it was decidedly cool outside, but after a pep talk I managed to get myself dressed and off up Garburn Pass I went to intercept Mick on his way down. 

The return leg of that little outing proved that I did now have sore quads, but not as bad as expected (although they were yet to get worse before they got better). Mick was, of course, tired by now, but still moving well and as we descended I set out the options for the night. I would very much have liked to have driven a short distance and stayed on a campsite for another night, but the cost/benefit analysis suggested that the best option was just to drive straight home. 

It was a longer journey than it should have been (a car fire on the M6) and sitting still in a car for a few hours is never a good thing to do immediately after a day of exercise. There were audible groans as Mick heaved himself out of the car and straightened himself up. 

We went to bed just before 9pm that night and I woke up at gone half past eight the following morning. I can't remember the last time I slept that long! It was the Friday before my legs had forgiven me sufficiently to go out for my next run.

After such a fine trip we're looking forward to returning to the Lakes early in May to recce the southern section of the route (could we possibly be so lucky with the weather again?), but next time it will be the turn of Bertie to provide transport and accommodation, as he's been waiting patiently for far too long for a trip. Not that he'll have to wait until May ... but I'll be back with the interim plan in due course...

The track, as recorded on Monday.

(*Mick's not going to appreciate that assessment, given the relative values/specs of our phones!)

Lakeland 50 Recce - Gayle's Turn

(This blog post is far too long. I considered writing a much shorter version, but for my own benefit I want to record the day, so please skip over it if you’re not in the market for a long read.) 

Monday 12 April
Where was Erica? She was at Yanwath Woodhouse, a certified (5-van) caravan site just to the south west of Penrith at a cost of £12 per night including electric hook up. They have the usual water and waste, as well as a toilet and sink with hot and cold water.
Weather: Glorious, if cold. 

As my alarm went off at 0530 on Monday morning, I was already in Ma-in-Law’s kitchen making breakfast, whilst Mick had a quick shower. Before 7am Erica had been defrosted (including her sliding rear door which was frozen firmly shut) and we were on the road on a gloriously sunny morning. 

The journey went smoothly, with the temperature rising as we went from a chilly -4 to a more tolerable +1, and at ten past nine I stepped out of Erica in the car park in Pooley Bridge. Off up the road I trotted, having committed to memory the first part of the route instructions. At St Paul's Church I duly forked L before thinking that something didn't look quite right. A double check of the route instructions: "Fork R at St Paul's Church". Oh dear. This wasn't a good start, 200m into a 40km day!

Back on the right track I was soon walking. The plan was to walk the ups and trot the flats and the downs, but I knew that even that would be a tall order, given that the overwhelming majority of our runs and walks over the last 13 months have been conducted in the flatlands surrounding home. My quads were clearly not going to appreciate a 40km route involving 1700m of ascent and descent.

Leaving the road, the first incline was easier than expected, and the views were already spectacular…

…but even so, by the top of the climb I’d realised that I was overdressed. It turns out that hauling oneself up hills in +1 in full sunshine is warmer work than running in the same temperature at home. 

A few weeks ago we had analysed the route and sectioned it into three categories (up (walk), steep down (fast walk) and ‘runnable’), allocating assumed paces for each of those categories. It transpired that we had been conservative in our assessment of the first section of the route, as after that first climb I ran almost the entire way to Checkpoint 1 at Howtown. 

Next I had to gain the head of Fusedale – a valley I don’t believe I’ve visited before. I was still on the valley floor when chap on a mountain bike passed me, soon disappearing off into the distance. Then the ascent started and slowly I reeled him in. Eventually, with much gasping, I got to around 10m from him and could have overtaken, but I took pity on his pride and instead paused to look at the map whilst he got his breath back. The next bit of the route was flat, allowing him to open the gap again. At the second ruin, he turned right whilst I turned left and started my huffing and gasping afresh as the terrain steepened up to the highest point on the route. 

Once on the top, the grassy track, which would otherwise have been boggy, was in the perfect state of frozen (i.e. still some give, but hard enough to hold my weight), giving a gloriously easy running surface between High Kop and Low Kop.

Elsewhere bits of path were more inconveniently sheets of ice; care was needed! 

Next came the descent to Haweswater, the line of which looked complicated on the map but was straightforward on the ground (watching a recce of the route on YouTube had helped). Part way down I acknowledged that running down such steep terrain was folly from the point of view of my quads. I thus slowed to my fast downhill walk, which is speedy, but gentler on the knees and thighs.

Hitting the path along Haweswater I had two expectations: 1) it would be largely runnable; 2) it was about 4km to the car park where I would find Erica. The former expectation had no basis other than contour lines on the map; the latter was based on having already covered 17km (per my watch) versus my rough estimate of the total distance to Mardale Head being 21km. As I made my way along the path, that was often too rocky for me to run (I kept catching a toe even at a fast walk), I referred to the route notes again which told me I had 6.5km to go. That was a bit of a blow!

Did I mention what a nice day it was to be out? 

The extra distance made me 10 minutes later arriving at Mardale Head than expected, which was good going, I thought, considering the 2.5km undermeasurement. There in the full-to-bursting car park was Mick ready to tend to my needs.

A bowl of pasta was consumed, interspersed by some chocolate ginger biscuits. My warm tights were changed for less-warm ones. Water bottles were refilled (I’d run dry 5km earlier). Snacks were stowed in my pack. Shoes were changed (I’d done the morning in my old shoes, thinking that 40km as the second outing in a pair of new zero-drop shoes would be asking for trouble). Exactly thirty minutes after arriving, I was off again.

Some clouds had now drifted in and it snowed gently on me at the top of Gatescarth Pass. The track down the other side was stony and with my propensity to catch a toe, I was selective as to which bits I ran. I passed within a kilometre of the summit of an unbagged Marilyn, but had to acknowledge that this wasn’t the day to visit it. Then I reached Sadgill.

Maybe because I was getting tired, I have no recollection of the next ascent and descent, until just before the road on the way to Kentmere. I do remember Garburn Pass, after Kentmere – the final pass of my day – because it was on my way up there that I started to question my sanity. I recorded voice notes throughout the day as to what the terrain was like and what time I reached key points. This is a transcript of my first note, which you’ll see is brief and factual:
“Car Park 0912. Runnable to just after crossroads before Hill Croft Farm. Gate at road end 0923. Good stony track with fantastic view over Ullswater. Top of track 0932.”

In contrast, here’s my final voice note of the day:
“Heading up Garburn Pass. Questioning my life choices. I could be sitting in an armchair kitting, listening to an audiobook and instead I’m thrashing my body up the most hideous rocky – loose rock – incline. But what was the point I was going to make? Um… Yes -this bit of the path is horrible. It’s bouldery, rocky, loose rock, not nice at all. And it’s uphill and I’m not really appreciating that just now. And it’s about to get a whole lot more uphill. Ridiculous thing to be doing.”

The bit of path I was on when I recorded the voice note set out above. 

Having gained the top of the pass I greeted a chap who was just tying his shoelace. “Are you recce-ing the Lakeland 50 route?” he asked. His name was David and he was also checking out part of the route, being also a first timer … at the age of 78. I had a lovely time walking with him until the first gate, by which time he’d encouraged me twice to go on ahead of him and I wasn’t sure if he was concerned that he was holding me up, or if he really didn’t want my company. Either way, at the gate I trotted on ahead, pausing further along to tell his wife, who was waiting on a rock, that he wasn’t far behind me. 

By then, with the end of my day within sniffing distance, I figured that it no longer mattered how much I trashed my quads, so I picked up the pace for the final couple of kilometres to Troutbeck, where Mick was waiting for me.

Writing this five days later, I assess the day as having been good fun. However, I also acknowledge that the latter stages of the afternoon fell firmly into the category of Type 2 fun*. I’d not only be happy to go and do the route again, but positively want to, to see if I can do it better (note: better ≠ faster).

Back to Monday: after my usual stretching routine, I clambered into Erica and off we set over the Kirkstone Pass to our campsite at Yanwath, where I was pleasantly surprised to find that my legs hadn’t seized up. How would they feel on the morrow? Would they be in a fit state to do driving duties whilst Mick ran? 

(*Type 1 fun: fun when it’s happening. Type 2 fun: not fun at the time, but it becomes so in retrospect.)
 

Lakeland 50 Recce - Preamble

A few weeks ago we bought a new backpacking tent and intended for her maiden voyage to be on 12 April*, with a quick overnight trip from Ma-in-Law's house in Halifax. That plan got as far as digging out our backpacking gear (dormant since May 2019) and packing our bags during the week prior. Then I examined the weather forecast, which was really quite good and, via a few intermediate plans, we concluded that our time and the weather window would be much better spent conducting a recce of the northern end of the Lakeland 50 route. Our backpacks were unpacked and my attention turned to a different set of plans using Erica as our accommodation.

Half a day was spent coming up with a complicated set of logistics involving four circular day walks (so as to avoid public transport) which in total would cover the relevant section of the L50 route. I then needed to find convenient places to stay. For various reasons, we didn't want to kip in laybys or car parks on this trip, but equally we weren't prepared to spend £31 a night for a patch of grass on which to park Erica (particularly in view of campsite facilities currently being closed). It was sometime whilst I was trying to solve that conundrum that I realised that the whole endeavour would be much more straightforward and efficient if Mick and I didn't walk together. Instead of four circular day walks (involving a lot of unnecessary miles on the return leg of each day), if one of us walked and the other drove, we could each cover the whole distance in one day, with a support-point in the middle. I located a campsite that was sufficiently convenient for the revised plan and we began the process of packing Erica for a couple of days away.

(*12 April was the first day when it was generally acknowledged to be acceptable to spend a night away from home (other than in one's bubble), being the date when self-contained holiday accommodation was allowed to reopen. I didn't trouble myself to read the legislation after 29 March, but I'm pretty sure the changes made on that day (i.e. the removal of the 'stay at home' requirements) permitted one to go away in a van, provided it was parked in a lawful non-campsite location. Likewise, I don't believe one would have been breaching the Coronavirus legislation to have wild camped in a tent after that date. However, given the widely held belief that these activities weren't legal until 12 April, we decided that having waited this long for a trip, we could wait the extra days between these two key dates.

As a separate aside: when movement restrictions were lifted last summer we decided to stay at home. At that time it didn't feel appropriate, to us, to be moving around the country and potentially being unwitting spreaders of the virus from a more populous area to a less populous one. That was, of course, a tiny risk, given that we generally keep ourselves to ourselves even in normal times, but there was also the issue of the feelings of locals, whether rational or not. I think two things caused us to run for the hills at the first opportunity this time around: 1) we've had enough of being at home! (an entirely selfish reason, but true); and more importantly, 2) the most at-risk groups of society have now had their vaccinations, making it feel entirely more reasonable to be moving around).

Snippets from April - Part 1

1 April

I discern from this first snap that: 1) we ran a route around the estate; 2) it was a cool morning; and 3) I was really getting in need of a haircut.

Mudfest hill wasn't muddy...

...lulling us into a false sense of security for taking a route through the woods:

2 April

I had my first Covid jab! Mick had his first dose back in February but I'd not expected to be invited for another month yet. However, on the Thursday afternoon I received a text message from the doctors' surgery and on this Friday morning I had the jab. I attended the vaccination centre in town, which was being run with incredible efficiency - unlike Mick's experience at the local doctors'. 

3 April

When we'd run on Cannock Chase on 30 March I'd said that we would go back on the Saturday (3 April) for our long run. What I'd failed to realise until later in the week was that it was Easter weekend. We thus started early to avoid the crowds. A couple of hours in we had our major snack of the outing - the final piece of Flapjack made by my friend Maike. Excellent running fuel:

By the time we reached the parking around the visitor centre at around 0930, we couldn't believe how busy it already was. People soon dispersed as they left the honeypot, and it wasn't so busy as to mar our enjoyment of a route (19km) that we haven't done in years.

6 April

For 24 hours after my vaccination on Friday I had a sore arm that refused to be lifted above shoulder height, but otherwise I felt fine. On the Sunday afternoon I felt under the weather, but on Monday had rallied and had no problem with a 13km run. On the Tuesday (6 April) I was down for hill reps and set out with good intentions, but found myself completely devoid of energy. I slowly hauled my body around the circuit, but the uphill reps were done at a walk (the downhill reps I ran fast; to me the downs are more important than the ups). It was a lovely morning for it...

...then a couple of hours later it started to snow, which continued off and on for the rest of the day.

7 April

Every year Bertie needs a damp test to be carried out by a Hymer dealer, so as to keep his water ingress warranty valid. We usually have that (as well as his engine service) carried out in Belgium, but clearly that wasn't an option this year. In Belgium this 1-hour effort costs €70. We booked him in at a local UK dealer, who quoted us the price of £450. We ummed and arred as to whether it was worth the expenditure, or whether we should just take the risk of letting the warranty lapse. Then, by chance, we found out that the price quoted included a full habitation check, which we were happy to forego, and after several emails and phone calls to the dealer, we eventually got the price down to £220. Still painful, but clearly a huge improvement on the initial quote. 

We'd had the appointment booked since January, yet it was a couple of days beforehand when we received a call to say that they needed Bertie for 3 days. To do an hour's work. All due to Covid protocols apparently. 

The plus side was that the route between home and the dealer took us across Cannock Chase, so on the way home we stopped off for another turn around the trails:

See the ripples in the water? That's where Mick had just dipped his foot in. He'd lost his balance when he expected one of the stepping stones, which had previously been unstable, to wobble and was taken by surprise when it held still.

Later in the day I gave myself a haircut, but Mick vetoed my attempt at a mohawk:

9 April

Another run around Cannock Chase on our way to pick up Bertie (4th time in 10 days; feasting on beauty after months of from-the-front-door 'famine') . It rained on us almost constantly, so I took no photos.

Then to the Hymer dealer we went, arriving promptly for our collection time (Coronavirus protocols = by appointment only). Mick presented himself at the agreed time and then stood out in the pouring rain for about a quarter of an hour, as it turned out that only the chap who had arranged the appointment could deal with Mick (deal with = take payment and hand over keys) and he had carelessly double booked himself onto a training course at the same time as Mick's appointment. Mick was finally admitted to wait another age inside. Eventually he emerged without a single word of apology having been uttered. I don't think we'll be using that dealer's services again if we can help it! 

10 April

Off up to Halifax we headed, for Ma-in-Law's 96th birthday. On the way we stopped off to drop in a card and present to Maike who shares the birthday, although not the grand age. We enjoyed the best part of an hour sitting in her garden, enjoying a slice of her magnificent birthday cake:

As we left we all agreed what good weather it was for sitting out. Five minutes later we were driving through a flurry of snow. Snow showers became a theme of the afternoon in Halifax:

11 April

It snowed some more overnight, but it soon thawed in the sunshine:

12 April

The next two days deserve a post of their own, as they will involve that long-missed question of 'Where's Erica'.  

Snippets from March - Part 2

Here we are in the middle of April and whilst I wrote March's snippets quite promptly, it turns out that I forgot to add in the photos and press 'Publish'.

16 March

We carpeted the utidly room, but you already know that because my last post was dedicated to the subject.

17 March

I've developed an inability to pass this pond without taking a snap of the water level! Between the 14th (when I took the previous snap from this vantage point) to the 17th the bin went from having just the very bottom of its legs in the water to having the bottom of its basket submerged - a difference of some inches. 

Returning home I found that someone had snapped off one of the daffodil flowers in our front garden and left it lying by the pavement. I rescued it and put it in a vase, where it looked a bit lonely, but very cheerful on the window sill for the next week.

18 March

And the water was still higher, as well as being a bit choppy. 

20 March

What a display of blossom! The following week it felt like it was snowing down there, as the blossom started to fall.

21 March

I'd been out for a 27km run on the Saturday (20th) and Mick was doing the same distance on the Sunday (in the interests of staving off injury, he's employing a run/walk strategy, building up the run intervals slowly, and is only running every other day, thus our outings and intentions don't always coincide). I'd intended to keep him company for the first 40 minutes, then turn back, but by that point it seemed more appealing to add a bit of distance so as to form a circuit, the second half of which would be largely off-road. I covertly snapped Mick as I left him to head homewards, initially across 'Thistle Field' (still a completely unrunnable rut-fest).

24 March

Mud season had abated sufficiently to entice me to cut across the estate to get to my hill-reps hill (the one that's 200m long with 20m ascent, but is the best on offer in these flatlands). Like the snaps of the pond, I must have dozens of versions of this view, taken over the course of many years. I can say that sometimes in late March it is a hideous quagmire and sometimes there's no hint of mud. This year is somewhere in between (elsewhere through the woodland is still tending towards 'too soggy to be fun').

25 March

Based on my findings the day before, I managed to persuade Mick onto the same route. What a fine day we had for it. Surprisingly warm too, causing quite a bit of clothing to be carried, rather than worn (and at one point stashed in a hedge).

26 March

August and September are my usual jam and chutney making months, however, we had such a glut of tomatoes and apples (not to mention some Scotch Bonnet chillies) from a couple of Lidl veg boxes that I resorted to chutney making in March. They're currently in the 'maturing' phase, so it'll be June at the earliest before they get a taste test. 

Deary me, I've got lazy. Didn't remove the old labels from the jars.

27 March 

Last June I plotted a route that took in the length of every road within a 1-mile radius of home. I then replotted it over and again, trying to make it more efficient (there's necessarily repetition, which I was trying to minimize). I then failed to go and run it. 

Finally in early March I revisited the plan, replotted it a few more times and committed to running it on the 27th of the month. Planning for an early start, I got myself organised the day before, which included printing and laminating the route cards I'd put together as there was no way I was going to rely on my memory of the route, only then to get home and find out I'd missed some little (or indeed, big) stretch of road. 

 Two sets of route cards; didn't want the endeavour to be scuppered by losing one.

As conspicuous as I felt running up and down dead-end roads, it was a good route for such a windy day, as I was never running into the wind for more than a minute or two before turning again. Alas, I'd made the route too efficient, so I had to go around some of the streets again at the end to make it up to the 30km that was on my plan for the day (it was much later that I realised I was supposed to be doing 32km. Hey ho. Close enough). 

Couldn't resist another snap of the pond on my way past

29 March

Time to get some tomato seedlings potted up. Last year I had something silly like 80 plants. This year I'm only planting up a handful.

30 March

Freedom! The 'Stay at Home' restrictions ended on 29 March, so on the 30th we headed off to Cannock Chase, where we very much enjoyed a trot around various of its trails. 

Then we went and sat in my sister's garden for an hour or so.

Goodness, two ridiculously exciting activities (both of which in a different year would have been so run-of-the-mill as to not be worthy of mention) in one day! 

31 March

Could two days get much more exciting than this?! Some fifteen months after I last saw a friend in person, I went and sat in Maike's garden for a couple of hours, drinking coffee, eating the most enormous (and very tasty) slab of flapjack and putting the world to rights.