Geocaches - 8
Walk Inspiration
In hindsight, it was an ambitious plan to go walking today.
The weather was checked and gales were as promising as we could expect. Rain not forecast until midday - co-incidently, when the pub opens. I can squeeze in February's blast along the Millennium Way.
The promise of a pub lunch even convinces Mrs Mappiman to come along. Spirits are high when we park up at the Old Bull in Inkberrow and see that they have a two course Sunday lunch for £9.95.
Of course, what I haven't taken fully into account is the effect that a month of storms has had on the ground. This was a mud-bath. A horrible, up to your knees slop around flooded fields of Worcestershire, under battleship gray skies. And to make matters worse, when you hit an exposed bit, the gales tried to put you face first into the goo.
Where is the joy in this you ask? All I can say is the Pub, which we will come to.
Gaitered and Goretexed, we slop out way out of Inkberrow. A muddy (I promise not to use this word again) slop across the football pitches towards an elevated section with good views over Worcestershire.
One of the many big puddles |
We find the first cache of the day. It is hidden in a tree but the farmer has built a new fences all around the said item. We expected that the cache would have been binned, but no, the farmer has left it next to said tree, so that you can lean over to recover and sign.
Tree, cache and new fence |
I am working out how to get across the field. The first tentative step had me disappear up to my knees. I try a little further down when she pipes up "The right of way is that way". I reply that "I know, I am just trying to find a way that avoids trench foot".
She replies with "Well, you have to expect this on farmland".
Check out the photos, lady farmer. I am head to toe in goretex and so is my wife. We have maps. We have Sat Navs. We have a dainty little hiking rucksack with a water bottle. Do we look like amateurs?
We go on our way, in the correct direction, through the worst of the conditions. And she just stands there and watches - making sure that we don't deviate from the right of way. I spot this lack of trust and give her a cheery wave. She heads off to the farmhouse to rouse her big handed sons.
I nearly lost my faith with country folk, but it will be restored.
Not going to bore you anymore with the conditions but we nearly weeped with joy when we hit the tarmac of The Bouts.
On a day like this, give me a road please. |
Now that is more like it.
Skirt Mearse Farm. The wind picks up and adds a little rain to complete the misery. I look at the map and I can save a 2 mile loop from the suggested route and add it to Stage 10. I suggest this to Sonia. She answered a bit sharpish, so I asked if she needs more time to consider her reply.
We head back to the pub.
It was possibly the best decision I have ever made.
A long miserable stretch between Knowl Fields Barn Farm and Lench Farm has us sticking to the lanes for the return to Inkberrrow.
Slow Down, the table isn't booked until 1pm |
We have even brought a change of clothes |
On walking through the door, we are presented with a choice of two roaring open fires. We are 75 minutes early but the landlady greets us and seats us and we are presented with the menu. Drinks are delivered to the table whilst we peruse. The food is all home cooked with what you would expect and a couple of options that you wouldn't.
Do you know what Clootie Dumpling is? I do now and let me tell you... fruit cake with ice-cream and a drizzle of Whisky is the future.
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