offa day two

did my feet hold out?

I owe and dedicate this account of my walk along some of Offa’s Dyke to Jo H— who recommended that, after my university finals, I go on some kind of adventure in the great outdoors.

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Hello friends.

I awoke well before the alarm which I had set for 8:30. However, I didn’t feel rested and so, to my embarrassment, I slept on for nearly another hour when James got me up properly. Indeed, I possibly wouldn’t have risen then had it not been for the prospect of our breakfast: porridge pots and sachets of Kenco coffee. I only hope that I am not coming across as excessively lazy in admitting that I let my brother do the bulk of the morning domestic tasks while I slumbered on during our stay in the Offa’s Dyke Lodge garden. I certainly hope I helped where I could.

But enough hand wringing, there’s breakfast to be eaten. Our porridge pots, specially chosen by us at Sainsbury’s on the evening before we set off for Hay, were of different flavours. I had selected ‘golden syrup’, which I hoped would be a safe bet, while James had gone for ‘sweet cinnamon’ which—his words, not mine—‘slaps’. The porridge pots have formed part of James’s camping trips before and, need I say, they didn’t disappoint. They were incredibly simple to prepare, just requiring a pour over of the boiling water which James had heated on his miniature, collapsible stove. Somehow, though, after only a little stirring, they became pleasingly thick and gloopy and tasted as creamy as if they had been drenched in milk.

We followed the porridge with our coffee. I will say that these were, for me, a little disappointing. Not in terms of their caffeine content: they definitely perked me up. No, it was the taste which underwhelmed a little. We had opted, as previously stated, for Kenco—which is normally one of the brands I like. However, when I think back to the last time James and I shared in an overnight camping adventure (which, incidentally, I wrote about but managed to lose half of what I’d written), I remember the delicious taste of the coffee we made with our Nescafé packets. I suppose what I’m really trying to say is that this Kenco latte was less naughtily sweet than the ones we had before. So, realistically, I know the Kenco was objectively a better cup of coffee, but, so far from home, can you forgive a lad for wanting a little excess sugar in his morning?

Before long, we had cleaned out our cups, folded away the tent, brushed our teeth and made use of the campsite’s bin and were ready to hit the road again. James asked me how my feet were feeling. ‘You know actually not too bad so far,’ I said. Then I realised how ridiculous this sounded given that what I had done all that morning was basically lie flat and then proceed to sit at a bench. ‘What I mean is, they’re not hurting before we’ve set out.’ It turned out James had understood immediately what I had meant without any need for the clarification, thank goodness. I should say that, although my feet were feeling fine, I knew that I was relying on the Compeed that we had patched onto them before setting out to keep them this way. I definitely still had my blister and it definitely wasn’t going to get any smaller before the day’s end. The question was, would I be able to hold out?

We were soon climbing up and out of the village of Gladestry—rather like Tolkien’s Fellowship as they leave Rivendell, if such a comparison isn’t too grandiose to make. Fortunately, we didn’t try to cross ‘Caradhras’ amidst Sarmuan’s curses, nor did we have to venture into the ‘Mines of Moria’. What we did do, however, was get really rather puffed out walking up the initial slopes of ‘Worsell Wood’. (Disclaimer: I tried to find the name of the hill we climbed on ‘PeakFinder’ and this was the closest I could come up with. It’s possible that ‘WW’ is a separate hill entirely, but it is at the very least nearby to the real thing, and I may perhaps have actually located and named it properly.) The way we were climbing was a dirt track which had been scooped out of the hillside. You could tell this because the bracken line from the hill itself reached down only as far as the precipice of a small earth-cliff on our left. This cliff was probably about eight feet high and our path continued alongside it in what felt like a wide and shallow trench. We stopped for a break during which we had some water and shared one of the protein bars which we had brought with us. Yesterday, we had eaten (between us) two of James’s apple & cinnamon bars. This time, it was my chosen flavour of raspberry & strawberry that we tucked into.

Once we had reached the end of this first part of our ascent, the gradient relaxed a little, grass spread beneath our feet and suddenly we were zooming. We were only planning to walk about 8km today, but we did want to make it to Kington by lunchtime. This meant breaks for water were relatively short, more like pitstops, whereas yesterday we had allowed for some more luxuriation. We weren’t in a rush, though; far from it. It was really just that the clear skies and the breeze and the sense of accomplishment from the walk of the day before drove us on at a quicker pace than we had thus far achieved. That and my feet still weren’t hurting. Yet.

And then the slope stopped sloping and we were upon the ridge of the hill. It was magnificent. Indeed, it was much as yesterday’s hill had been, only with the slight increase in height, we were treated to an even more inspiring view. The bracken seemed to have receded, leaving a wider path than yesterday which swelled towards the horizon. Then, sporadically at first, then clumping and finally crowding together, the young bracken shone forth like juvenile tongues of fire or splayed artichoke hearts. They looked as though they had been daubed there by a landscape artist’s brush for our own private contemplation. And yet, beyond this was where the real impact lay. On the neighbouring hills, the cotton-bud trees formed clods of massy myrtle and spread across in dots and smudges. Distant hills were dark blue creatures, whales mostly, amongst the lighter haze of atmosphere that sheened, shimmered and cloaked them.

Along our route, we could see a small clump of pine trees about a mile and half away. We agreed that we would take our next break when we had reached them. It wasn’t until we were almost upon them that we both realised that they weren’t pine trees at all. ‘No way,’ said James, to which I replied (never one to avoid pointing out the obvious) ‘monkey puzzle trees!’ What’s more, there was a bench. A welcome sight given that we’d been walking at a brisk, sometimes even blistering, pace for about two hours. When I sat on the bench, I saw I was back in 4G territory and so was able to get a look at who had seen and interacted with my Instagram ‘stories’. It was great to see some people had liked them, including cousins and friends. Friends, indeed, ranging from ones I’ve known seemingly forever, to those I’ve only recently met. Strange to say, but I really enjoyed looking at my phone, then. Not in that other sort of addled state that I confuse for enjoyment when I generally look at my phone, but I was actually finding it interesting and soul-enhancing. I didn’t feel trapped in the device, unable to focus on tasks at hand because I had become a mere extension of the phone; rather I felt intrigued for about five minutes, and then able to put it away and chat to James again.

The ridge didn’t last much further beyond our little coppice and so we began to gradually descend. Once again, my poles were my lifeline. At one point, we were ‘racing’ a woman in bright pink running gear who was walking on the other side of some gorse but (wouldn’t you know it?) she walked far faster than us, even with the aid of our poles. Once she’d disappeared from sight, a young family came by—parents, two girls, one boy and a very bouncy, tiny, big-eared puppy. James reflected on how adorable the dog was—I asked him what he thought of small dogs in general and he said that some of them were great and others not so much. Actually, this is at best a paraphrase of what he said, but what he did say about the ‘not so much’ brigade, whilst funny, would require a level of tone and clarification that I don’t think I can quite muster in a written format.

Anyway, the family got me thinking about how amazing it must be to have a dog as a six-year-old, or thereabouts. I voiced this to James and, even whilst voicing it, felt myself becoming nostalgic with the various experiences of ‘pets’ I’ve had over the years. I remember when my brother was playing in a cricket match, sometime in the late noughties, I adopted a Nintendog. I say ‘adopted’ because the DS console that I used to raise my virtual pet wasn’t mine, and neither was the game cartridge. I called my dog Maxy. It was one of the best days I’d known. Later on (or was it earlier?) I had a Tamagotchi and then got into Pokémon, as I’ve already discussed in an earlier edition of this newsletter. James said he remembered the Nintendog from the cricket match well, and I’ve no doubt he remembers the other two phases. Strange to say, but I think quite a lot of my interest in nature and concern for animals comes from those days. Maybe I’m just trying to justify the passions I had then that embarrassed and irked my family so much, but I really do hold those memories fondly. I told James that I had been tempted to buy another Tamagotchi recently (they’ve gotten really rather cool in the intervening years) but that I couldn’t commit to its care. Thankfully, he laughed. I was joking, I promise.

The descent’s gradient was now steepening and, what’s more, it was soon to lead us onto a road. My feet began to prickle at the thought. Then they began to hurt at the reality. I was in less pain than I had been in yesterday, but my steps were definitely a bit tender and tentative. As we were now approaching the town of Kington, we saw quite a few more people en route. Indeed, weaving in and out of cars and walkers became our main concern for the next mile or so. James checked his GPS to see what the local town had to offer us for lunch. ‘I say we get a meal deal from the co-op,’ he said. This was a heartening prospect and made the last half an hour of walking that much smoother for me.

If I end this piece by itemising our meal deals (which we ate in the corner of the co-op car park…), I do not want it to be thought that this was necessarily the highlight of my day, or that I didn’t enjoy the walking, but only the food. No, I end here only because it is where the expedition itself ended, where our support vehicle—i.e. Dad (driving Mum’s car)—came to pick us up and where, as far as I’m concerned, all of the graft we had put in was once again rewarded.

Here goes, then:

James’s line-up:

Main: All-Day Breakfast sandwich
Snack: Monster Munch
Drink: Cadbury’s Chocolate Milkshake 250ml

Angus’s line-up:

Main: YO! Rainbow Salmon Poke Bowl (deluxe meal deal item)
Snack: Hula-hoops Classic
Drink: Innocent Pure Apple Fruit Juice 330ml

(It may not have been the best poke I’ve ever had, but it was certainly the most delightful.)

Thank you so much to Dad for driving (bursting only one tyre in the process) and to James for walking with me. And to Mum, a hearty congratulations for the organisation and management of the local flower festival which coincided with our weekend’s antics. I know I made it sound like James and I worked hard at times on this walk, but it was as nothing compared to what Mum’s been doing for weeks, now.

I will never forget this post-exam treat and so a final thank you and mention goes to Jo H— and to all of his family. May we see each other soon.

- Angus