Hygge On The Horizon

I was listening to the radio at the weekend, and came across the Danish concept of hygge (pronounced HUE-gah).

Hygge is one of those words for which there is no direct translation into another language, but one definition I found describes it as:

“the Danish ritual of enjoying life’s simple pleasures, friends, family, graciousness, contentment, good feelings, a warm glow. Certainly, hygge is intrinsic to the Danish lifestyle, but this feeling of well-being, so deeply satisfying and cosy, is something we all experience, each in our own way.

The hygge tradition includes sharing stories about ideas and history, culture and the things we create. Celebrating happiness is important to us. Our goal: more hospitality, more warmth, more respect for each other and the environments we share”

All this sounds fantastic, and definitely something I’d sign up for. Perhaps there is an inner Dane in me somewhere.

It’s thought that the long, cold Danish winters distilled these ideas of companionship, bonhomie and the good life into the concept of hygge, and with the nights beginning to draw in and autumn just around the corner, it reminded me that one of the great things to look forward to in the coming months is a bracing walk by day followed by good food and friendship by night.

Satisfaction guaranteed in my book, as the accompanying photos show.  

A Landmark Reached

Today, Ambles & Rambles has reached something of a landmark – 100,000 page views since I started the blog just over 5 years ago.

So, first of all, my thanks to those who have read, browsed or made comment at one time or another.

Pointed look: The Matterhorn from Grindjisee (Sept 2012)

Now at 100,000 hits in 5 years, I can’t claim it has “gone viral” and, to the best of my knowledge, nothing appears to have been “trending” when I wasn’t looking. But I must admit to a certain satisfaction with this figure, especially considering the reasoning behind the blog in the first place.  

The good life: Family homestay in Nderlysa, Thethi National Park,
Albania (Jun 2011)

My thoughts at the outset were simple enough: to keep a record of my walking trips for posterity, to act as a creative incentive through writing and photography, and to better acquaint myself with the world of social media (something quite new to me at that time).

Beardy weirdy: frozen face-fuzz, minus 15 degrees C
during the day, Mayrhofen, (Jan 2012)

Pretty soon it settled into the melange you now see: predominantly trip reports from both home and abroad, a few gear reviews, some walking-related thoughts and a little campaigning thrown in for good measure.

Borderline friendship: Kushtrim & Dimitrije at
the Montenegro-Kosovo border (July 2013)

Looking back over the last 5 years, there have been plenty of great moments - the smattering of photos adorning this post representing just a few. Some bring back great memories, others are simply favourite pictures – in one way or another, though, all capture some of the more memorable times spent out and about.

Peak perfection: from Stanton Moor, Peak District (Oct 2011)

Starting my own blog also introduced me to other people’s blogs – an online community of like-minded outdoor enthusiasts willing to educate, entertain and inspire through their love of walking, backpacking, travelling and exploring the great outdoors. It was something of a revelation to discover just how many unique and passionate voices there were out there, with their generosity and willingness to share. 

Winter of content: Snowy tracks above Dentdale
(Easter 2013)

I, too, have had opportunities to inform and advise, and some of the most satisfying moments have come when messages have been posted asking for information about places we have walked or things we have done. Our trips to The Balkans and The Alps have featured highly in this regard, and I hope I have been able to satisfactorily answer the questions posed. Who knows: maybe someone has even been sufficiently inspired by these pages to choose one of those destinations for themselves.

Coasting along: beautiful Pembrokeshire Coast Path
(Oct 2014)

At its busiest, I was able to post about once a week. In recent times, however, pressures of work and other commitments have meant that whilst we both still really enjoy our walking trips and get out there whenever we can, we have done fewer new routes and I have had less time to prepare posts - an unfortunate consequence of a busy life.

Time and tide: Norfolk Coast Path, Easter 2014

With a few notable exceptions, it seems to be a similar story across the blogosphere. Traffic has reduced and momentum slowed, which is a shame. However, the effort required to maintain a blog can be considerable, and I guess the novelty can wear off after a while.

Go west, young man (and woman): On Camino,
 just beyond Najera (Sept 2014)

Enthusiasm wanes: people migrate to other platforms such as FB or Twitter (which have their uses, but to my mind don’t offer the same opportunity that a blog does) or their lives move on, and there simply isn’t enough time anymore. For what it’s worth I intend to keep A&R going, even if it’s in an ad hoc way, as I still want to keep a record of our trips and have something to look back on in my dotage.

At something of a crossroads: Walking the Mare 
a Mare Nord, Corsica (May 2010)

Who knows, there may come a time when I can give it a bit more input again, and regain the impetus of 2-3 years ago. One thing is for certain: we never know what life will bring in future, but it would be nice to think more walking and exploring can be squeezed in somewhere along the way, before I get too old to get out there anymore – or too batty to care!

Kingston For A Day (or Ewell Never Believe It!)

Since completing our Camino back in mid-June, life has been very hectic, and opportunities for walking – anywhere other than quick, local circuits – have been pretty scant. Being busy is good, but “all work and no play” makes for a dull life – sometimes it’s not the simply the doing that is important, but what you are doing.

At the end of a particularly tough week – a week in which, amongst other things, we said an emotional farewell to a much-loved friend who passed away too young – the time had arrived for some proper R&R.

Thames by Kingston Bridge #1

So it was that we found ourselves embarking on a day out to Kingston – not the sunny Jamaican capital, you understand, nor the one languishing on the north bank of the Humber, but the one “upon Thames” where monarchs were crowned and Henry VIII hung about when not dissolving monasteries and dispatching wives.

Fun, friendship, fresh air and a Full English are all good ways of banishing the blues, and all would have been heartily endorsed by our friend. A rendezvous at the King’s Tun provided the opportunity for the fry-up, where a crack squad of six budding adventurers assembled in readiness for a day of exploration and music. 

Thames by Kingston Bridge #2

First off, we pottered through Kingston town centre to have a quick look at the Thames on the stretch beside Kingston Bridge. Then it was a short bus-ride to Bushy Park – second largest of the eight so-called Royal Parks in the Greater London area, all originally set up as places of royal recreation.

Nearest and deerest, Bushy Park
(Nick Nation)

Now it turns out that in between bouts of Catholic suppression and marital disharmony, Henry VIII liked nothing more than a spot of hunting, with deer his most favoured quarry.

You ain't see me, right?
(Nick Nation)

Managed herds of both Fallow Deer and Red Deer were introduced into the park for sporting purposes, and the descendants of those that managed to avoid both bow and blunderbuss still roam the grounds today – some 300+ of them helping to maintain the park’s ecosystem.

Two old codgers on day release
(Nick Nation)

After wandering for a while through grassy parkland, we ventured into another part of the park, where verdant lawns and shady ponds dwelt beneath a cool canopy of mature trees. In hot sunshine, the dry grasslands had a prairie-like feel to them, whereas the more luxuriant growth and humid conditions in these parts were far more jungle-y.

Moorhen and chicks on lily pond

Watching both fish and fowl

By the millpond, Waterhouse Woodland Garden
(Nick Nation)

Bushy Park is a surprisingly large open space, given the proximity of the capital – some 1,100 acres in total – with plenty of chance for wandering about. In all, we had explored little more than the western third before we exited the north side near the National Physical Laboratory to catch the bus back to Kingston.   

Avenue of trees near Upper House

The remainder of the afternoon was spent in Ewell, listening to music and chatting about this and that. In fact it was music, in the form of Welsh rock band Man, that had been the catalyst for our happy little group to coalesce in the first place, so what better way to idle away a few hours and put our cares to one side for a while. 

Both Kingston and Ewell had proved to be something of a revelation – far greener than we had expected “That London” to be, and with plenty of history to discover as well. Several times during the day we had passed signs for the London LOOP, an orbital path of some 150+ miles that describes a circuit of the outer fringes of the capital from Erith in Kent to Purfleet in Essex, linking a series of green spaces ideal for winter walking and easily accessible by public transport.

Now there’s a thought ……

PS. I forgot my camera and tried to make use of my phone with limited success, so thanks to Nick Nation for the use of his decent photographs!

Stile Council: Where Are We Heading For?

I read an article today – someone sent me a link to it, knowing it would be of interest in my line of work. At first glance, you may be wondering where the walking connection is – but bear with me, and all will be revealed.

In it was described a council that have outsourced or intend to outsource so many of their services – not just the usual suspects such as parking, highways and so forth, but planning, regeneration, HR, IT, procurement, finance, legal services, trading standards, council housing, environmental health, rubbish collection, libraries, care of the vulnerable and the disabled, and even, would you believe it, cemeteries and crematoriums – that in the space of just a couple of years, the council will have shrunk from just over 3,000 staff to just over 300. 

To save their embarrassment, I won’t name them.

According to the article, there appears to be three main concerns about a state of affairs such as this. Firstly, all of these services are being farmed out to a very limited number of massive, privately-owned infrastructure and business services companies that have little knowledge of local issues and concerns, whose contracts are such that the details are often shrouded by “commercial sensitivity” and who can, in a worst-case scenario, go bust. Where would that leave us?

Secondly, these contracts are typically let over lengthy timespans, often as much as 10 years at a time, so the entire democratic process is lost to the local community – whoever you vote for, you get the contracted infrastructure company, like it or not.

Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, local expertise is lost. At the end of these lengthy contracts there will be so little experience, expertise and infrastructure remaining locally within councils that it would be almost impossible to return to the “old” way even if they wanted to.

These deals are usually touted as a route to saving money, although it seems that is not always the case. In one example, a deal was meant to deliver £70m savings and 100 new jobs: when neither benefit actually materialised, the contract was transferred back to the council.

So how does this affect walking, I hear you ask?

Well, the obvious answer is that local authorities are responsible, through Rights of Way departments, for the upkeep and maintenance of the all the footpaths, bridleways, by-ways and so forth. But with low priority, reduced budgets and outsourced responsibility, how will upkeep and maintenance of the network be enacted and policed?

The providers are only in it to make money, and I suspect there is little money to be had from contracts like this because we all know that RoW team budgets are miniscule in relative terms, and that a good footpath network runs on the goodwill of many people – landowners and managers, local volunteers, Ramblers’ groups, and the like. Will those volunteers still feel as altruistic if they are ultimately helping to line the pockets of big business and greedy shareholders?

The other aspect – the one that is perhaps most immediately concerning here on Ambles & Rambles – is that my own local authority, Northamptonshire, is set to adopt an “alternative delivery model” like this and follow in the footsteps of the council mentioned above, declaring just last month that it intended to outsource 95% of its work and go down to a skeleton staff.

Quite how this will manifest itself in the future, no one yet knows. It’s one thing to ask local residents to keep an eye out for any maintenance issues, to help fix a stile or put up a new waymarker, but another altogether to expect them to fight legal battles over illegal closures, maintain (or even improve by 2026, the cut-off date for re-inclusion of remembered but lost pre-1949 routes into the network and set out in the CroW Act 2000) the definitive map, or negotiate new access rights with landowners.

Because, in the end, it all comes down to money. It’s the reason that outsourcing is being proposed, and it’s why contractors will take it on. If they can’t make any money out of it, they won’t do it, and I’m sure they will be inclined to minimise outlay in order to maximise profit margins and keep shareholders happy. Unless the contracts are absolutely correctly specified then the contractors will work any loopholes they can find – they have whole departments given over to just that sort of fine-tooth-combery – and exploit them to the full if they can.

And by the time the contracts are re-let, there could be a lot of damage done.

Scratchings & Squeakings From An Ill-lit Corner

It’s now mid-December 2014, some two months since my last scribblings (a half-baked rant about energy and wind farms) and even longer since a proper report about walking-related matters has appeared – a short commentary on a long weekend walking bits of the Pembrokeshire Coastal Path.  

Stormy skies above Grasswood from the Dales Way near Grassington

So it’s been a quiet time in this dimly-lit corner of the blogosphere, with nary a sound to be heard but for the odd scratch or squeak every once in a while.

Negotiating Conistone Dib

I must confess that time and motivation for posting to the blog has been in short supply of late, something that has been true for much of the year (and which has also affected the reading of and contributions to other blogs, as well). There have been some notable exceptions – Norfolk, the Peaks of the Balkans and the Camino posts, for example. But, by-and-large, contributions to the blog have been much reduced – around half the number of posts of previous years – and what momentum there was seems to have been lost.

Watching the Wharfe go by

However, a lack of online activity does not equate to a lack of walking or enthusiasm for it: we have been slowly racking up mileage throughout the autumn, and it looks as if we will top last year’s total and post a new best-year-ever figure come December 31^st. 

Weir near Linton Falls

But apart from a couple of weekends away (more of which in a moment) most of this mileage has been accumulated during shorter walks on familiar local circuits – a couple of hours grabbed here and there – and these haven’t really offered enough in the way of new paths, high drama, great photography or worthwhile distance to warrant individual blog entries.

Two weekend trips do stand out, though. Firstly, a budget hotel deal afforded us the opportunity for a brief trip up to the Yorkshire Dales, during which time we walked from Grassington and Bolton Abbey (and photos of which are included in the post). Over the course of the weekend we remained largely dry, inadvertently improved on an established circuit, caught some beautiful autumn colours in the sunshine, and wiped away a tear (not the result of a chill wind but from being relieved of an eye-watering £8 for parking by one of the richest men in the UK).

This information, posted on the gate accessing the path to the Valley of Desolation, did
not appear to be in evidence in the car park. I would have been more than "desolate" if
I'd paid £8 parking only to find there was no access on the moors that day 

The second was a weekend in the White Peak built around a Saturday-night gig in Youlgreave by Whalebone, an entertaining evening of “high energy acoustic music” from talented musicians Steve, Char and Sarah that draws on traditional folk, classic rock and their own compositions for inspiration. If you fancy catching them live or simply want to find out more about the band and their music, further information can be found here:

http://www.whalebone-music.com/

Descending from Simon's Seat

My plan for 2015 is to gradually get back into the swing of things, and hopefully be a bit more active on the blogging scene. I don’t know if it’s just my imagination, but it does seem to have been a quieter year all round, with many contributors seeming to have posted a little less frequently.

Dales Way path beside the river

Some of the biggest subjects have been controversial, too, which made for higher traffic volumes but a less harmonious online outdoor community – important principles to be defended, perhaps, for those involved (and I would probably do the same in similar circumstances) but a slightly unedifying experience for those watching-on from the outside. Whatever the rights and wrongs of the situation, I suspect this is, in part, a consequence of the time of year: as winter is not yet upon us and Christmas approaches, there are simply fewer interesting topics and trip reports to peruse. Hopefully, all will soon be forgotten as next year progresses and the winter walking season gathers pace.

Finally, because it was a lovely afternoon, I'll finish with a few more photos from our Yorkshire Dales weekend - beautiful autumn colours near The Strid.

Energy: Saving

We recently received our energy bill. Normally this is cause for a sharp intake of breath, the jumble of figures on the page aligning in such a way as to achieve a larger sum than might reasonably be expected. On this occasion, though, it proved to be slightly less eye-wateringly expensive than usual, this being some reward for our efforts to reduce energy consumption.

We both dislike waste, be it over-consumption of energy, reckless creation of landfill volume, irresponsible attitudes towards the use of water or other precious resources, or anything else (don't get me started on the estimated £12 billion of food we throw away in the UK each year). Use, re-use, repair, recycle, up cycle: to me it doesn't really matter, as long as waste is reduced and profligacy prevented.

However, it was another figure on our bill that really caught our eye: apparently, we are ranked as the 7th most energy efficient household in a comparison of 100 similar properties. This is good news for two reasons: a) our efforts to reduce energy consumption appear to have been effective, and b) we now know how many households we need to catch to become the number one most efficient. (Competitive? Who, me?)

On that basis, you’d be forgiven for thinking that "clean, green" energy production would be a real passion too. And, up to a point, it is. However, regular readers of this blog will know I have commented unfavourably on wind farms in the past. This is not simply through some blind belief that wind turbines are possessed of an inherent wrongness, or that they are in anyway aesthetically displeasing (which is entirely a matter of opinion).

No, my dislike of them is a considered position based upon facts that are widely available – if you look hard enough! Namely, that they are grossly inefficient, very expensive, ecologically unsound, subject to a planning process that favours the energy companies, and often inappropriately situated. 

And it is this last issue which for me is the cause for most concern.

Take a look at this example from Alan Sloman’s Blog. I won’t elaborate further, as Alan’s post (and many others like it on his blog) speaks more eloquently and knowledgably on the subject than I ever could.

The main reason behind the current rush towards wind-powered energy generation is less to do with suitability or sustainability and more with the fact that that successive Governments have failed to grasp the nettle and formulate a coherent future energy policy. Now, with many of our existing power stations in the process of being decommissioned at the end of their lifetime, there is simply nothing to replace them.

It doesn’t help that so-called environmental groups have actually been complicit in this kind of desecration. Unwittingly or otherwise, their refusal to support the kind of generation necessary to power the UK in the coming years (such as nuclear) has helped create this position, as though it is perfectly acceptable to sacrifice anything on the altar of ideology, without realizing the ultimate irony of forever degrading the very thing they say they want to protect: the environment! 

To be frank, I find the implicit assertion that their dare-I-say conceited version of environmentalism is somehow more worthy than my (and many others) more holistic interpretation - an interpretation that takes into account ecological as well as environmental aspects - more than a little arrogant.

And, as renewable solutions alone can only ever generate a fraction of the energy we need, the future looks set to be blighted by increasing energy poverty: this in a nation with the 6^th biggest economy in the world. A high cost is set to be paid – in more ways than one.

The truth is there are now increasingly large tracts of the Scotland, Wales and England covered by or in the shadow of wind farm developments. It just so happens that many of the areas in question are also some of the wildest, most beautiful and most remote places in the country, fabulous resources in their own right that are in the process of being lost to this and future generations. The opportunity to roam, to explore pristine wild places, to leave behind the incursions of modern life and to gain spiritual and psychological sustenance from such landscapes will be gone - changed forever. 

The Way We See Things

I’ve seen God.

At least, I think it was Him: with piercing gaze, trademark long hair and big, bushy beard, He looked just like He does in all those Renaissance paintings.  So it must be true, right?

Cleverly, though, in order to pass unnoticed through His people, he had swapped the traditional flowing robes for a faded sweatshirt and jeans, and instead of descending triumphantly to Earth by the traditional conveyance of a cloud, heralded by Cherubim and Seraphim and backlit by celestial light, He opted instead for a Y Reg red Fiesta.

Perception. The way we see and understand things can be affected by so many factors: quality of information, assumption, learning, stereotyping, or – sometimes – just a simple misunderstanding of the facts.

Before last weekend, if anyone had asked me how we were doing on the mileage front compared to late March any other year, I would have said we were well down. Lack of time and poor weather for the first few weeks must have impacted on our total. With evidence like that, it must be true - right?

Climbing out of Carding Mill Valley

But today's walk of 10.75 miles has nudged us over the hundred-mile-cumulative mark, and this puts us pretty much slap bang in the middle of the spread of totals from previous years.


Last Sunday we took on a circuit we have done several times before - from Church Stretton, on to the Long Mynd via Carding Mill Valley, over Pole Bank, down Minton Batch and back on a lower route of field paths and lanes through Little Stretton.

As we began our climb out of Carding Mill Valley, the schizophrenic nature of the day's weather showed itself: one moment we were bathed in spring sunshine, the next we were assaulted by winter sleet and hail.



Looking to Corndon Hill, with snow capped Cadair Idris just visible on the horizon



But by the time we had reached the top, conditions had settled and a gradual improvement to the day commenced. The walk along the top of the Mynd is easy enough, with good, clear paths all the way, and sections of metaled road in places. However, despite the ease of progress, the views remain excellent, and we could see not only the summits of the nearby Stretton Hills but further afield as well: enough to see that some of the other tops were getting a squally shower – and a light dusting of snow capping distant Cadair Idris.



Descending into Minton Batch

By the time we began our descent, spring had returned, and layers required to keep rain and wind at bay were hastily shed. Minton Batch is an attractive clough, and one of the quieter ways off the hill: still subject to the odd strafing by MTB riders, but comparatively peaceful for the most part. The only downside is the farm at the bottom: as we have commented before, the owner must have lost all sense of shame and self-respect, and – if anything – it was a worse mess than last time we passed: this being a matter of fact, not perception.

What a mess: since our last visit, a selection of three clapped out old
tractors has been added to the collection

More mess: black plastic wrapping hanging from skeletal tree
branches like huge dead bats

The final stretch passes along lanes and via fields through Minton and Little Stretton before meeting the road back into Church Stretton. Despite a relative lack of “match fitness” we were pleased to see our moving speed and walking time stats compared quite well to our norm, so perhaps we are not as far behind other years in that respect, either. 

Perception: it just depends on how you look at things. In this case, wrong about our achievements so far this year, but right about that farm!

 

Something Of A Curate's Egg

As far as Missy G and I are concerned, 2013 will go down as something of a curate's egg of a year. There were definitely some good parts - very good, in fact, with some memorable trips - but, outside of the walking, there were some less good bits that happened along as well. I won't bore you with details of the not-so-good bits, but the good included our trip through Montenegro & Kosovo, hiking in southern Albania, and an excellent week along the Camino de Santiago from the Pyrenees to Logrono, as well as a number of great daywalks.

As a result, we had been accumulating mileage quite well, and by the middle of October we were making great strides towards topping last year's figure of just under 740 miles, racking up our best ever annual total along the way. However, the brakes were applied somewhat during the last few weeks of the year as I found myself in a bit of a predicament - firstly unceremoniously chucked out of work, then in a temporary role until Christmas - and with an understandable change of priorities as a consequence.

Nevertheless, we kept plodding along whenever we got the chance, and duly reached our new best ever at the beginning of December. Soon afterwards, we passed a cumulative 6000 miles since we began recording our annual mileage back in 2005 - a statistic that I commented on in a previous post - and it seemed from there on like we would cruise gently towards the end of the year. At this point, it hadn't occurred to us there was another milestone hoving into view: that of 800 miles for the year. It was a long shot, but it just might work!

Entering the festive break, we took our boots everywhere and put them on at every opportunity. Bit by bit, we crept nearer the goal, until, the day before New Year's Eve, we found ourselves heading north for our now-customary get together with friends in Dentdale. What followed was two days of eating, drinking and celebrating by night, and sloshing through muddy fields in the pouring rain by day. And it was muddy, and, boy, it did rain: at one stage I wasn’t sure whether we were walking north, south, east or west, but we were definitely walking upstream.

 

But, by the time we'd reached Sedbergh on New Year's Eve afternoon, we'd done the necessary, and pased the 800 mile mark by a whisker. Mission accomplished.  For warmth, and by way of celebration, we squelched, dripping, into Duo cafe, sank a huge pot of tea, shared the last piece of (appropriately named) orange drizzle cake, and reflected on another year of walking as we tried to dry out and not leave mud on all the surfaces with which we came into contact.

Once again, we saw the New Year in with good friends, great food and a quality Rioja. And, it has to be said, an improved positivity. We'd finished the year on a high note, hitting our target with only hours to spare, and I'm looking forward to starting a new, full-time job next week. We have also heard some exciting news on the walking front (but more on that if it comes off). All in all, it looks like 2014 already has much to commend it!

Bring it on!

Linton Falls

Weir between Linton & Grassington

Muddy trousers!

Playing With New Technology

Hopefully, if I have any idea of how this gadget works, this should be the first post using our new tablet. Eventually, we hope this will allow us to blog on the go, which will be very useful especially on longer trips.

 

Anyway, Boxing morning in Usk was bright and sunny and not too cold, as can be seen from the accompanying photo. So we went for a brisk six-miler to walk off the Christmas dinner and build up an appetite of sorts. A beautiful morning, and well worth the effort!

 

Upper Harlestone, Nobottle & The Bringtons – approx 6.00 miles

Sunday November 3rd 2013

 

Map: OS Explorer 223 – Northampton & Market Harborough
 

Upper Harlestone – Midshires Way (W) – Nobottle – Little Brington – Great Brington – Chinkwell Spinney – Edge of Althorp Park – Upper Harlestone
 

It’s been quite a while since we last went out on anything other than a trundle round the local paths and lanes, and even longer since my last blog post. There are a number of reasons for this, none of which I will bore you with now (maybe later, eh?): suffice it to say that what with one thing or another we haven’t really had the opportunity.
 

So, faced with the prospect of a bright, sunny Sunday morning and with little to distract us, we decided to take advantage and get our boots muddy for the first time since returning from Albania. And we needed to reccy a walk for the next issue of the parish magazine. All in all, it seemed like too good an opportunity to miss.
 

On the Midshires Way between Upper Harlestone and Nobottle

 

The circuit itself was a fairly simple six-miler connecting a group of four villages located just to the southwest of Althop Park (home of the Spencer family, if you are struggling to recall the name). We began by parking in Upper Harlestone and taking the Midshires Way westwards towards the hamlet of Nobottle.

Designed as a link route between the Ridgeway and the Trans Pennine Trail, the Midshires Way runs through 230 miles of Middle England from Bledlow in Buckinghamshire to Stockport, Greater Manchester. With more than 40 miles of the route in Northamptonshire it is a path we come across quite frequently, but my last encounter with it was over one weekend earlier this summer when walking two different routes between Cromford and Turnditch.   

DAY 1

 

DAY 2

 

Heading for Little Brington

From Nobottle, we left the Midshires Way and picked a line across the fields towards Little Brington. The weather was still treating us kindly, and the surrounding countryside, whilst being nothing more dramatic than gently rolling agricultural land, looked as good as it gets. I’ve probably mentioned it before, but with its open farmland, country houses and quaint villages built from the local golden sandstone, the area has more than a hint of Cotswolds about it.

Great Brington Church, built in local stone

After picking up the Macmillan Way (designed to promote and raise money for Macmillan Cancer Relief) we reached Great Brington, where we sat to rest for a few minutes outside the solid-looking church and watched the world go by. Then a short walk across the fields brought us out on to the road that skirts the edge of Althop Park and leads back to Upper Harlestone.
 

Having a rest

 

At around 6 miles, this is a lovely little circuit for a half-day stroll. It’s a bit muddy in one or two places, but with some road walking and a number of good paths it is quite a manageable choice in winter. In fact it would make a great outing on a cold, frosty winter’s day – and there are a couple of fine-looking pubs en route should refreshments or food be on the agenda.

 

It’s been about 8 years since we last walked this route. On the basis of yesterday’s findings, we should ensure it is not another 8 years until we go again!