Geocaches - 18
Start - Cheshunt
Finish - Hertford
Pubs - 3
Previous Stage
I spent 13 years working in Hatfield and looking for better places to spend my nights away. Both Hertford and Ware were investigated before I settled on St Albans for my regular lodgings. In those days, I simply knew it had good pubs but didn't realise it was CAMRA's home. Youth, wasted on the young.
It was with some mild excitement that I plotted the 2nd leg of the Lea Valley Walk and realised that it would be taking me through these two Hertfordshire towns. A chance for a first visit in over 10 years.
Easy walking from Cheshunt - like plodding along the banks of a canal. Unlike Stage 1, there is really nothing much of interest until you get 11 miles in and arrive at Ware.
Its a good job I have the numerous, well maintained geocaches to keep the interest levels. If there hadn't have been so many muggles, I would have got so many more. A stretch of three consecutive caches was interrupted by a fisherman who firstly demanded I had a feel of his rod, and then proceeded to follow me upstream as "he looked for perch".
I'll leave you with some photos of the walk into Ware.
Deadly Accurate Signage - I discovered a Heron |
One of the more handsome Riverside pubs - The Fish and Eels |
Somewhere near Hoddeson |
Somewhere Near St Margaret's |
Civilisation |
The Waterside Inn, Ware
3.5 hours after leaving Cheshunt at 9am, I arrive into Ware. There is one CAMRA GBG pub in the town but it is a fair way from the river, so I make the most of the two waterside pubs at the town bridge. The Saracen's Head announces its presence with Scrabble Style signage. The Waterside Inn is Cask Marque accredited. Only one winner for the Mappiman Dollar.
Waterside Inn - Cask Marque |
Ringwood Ridgeback delivered in a Presentation Cup |
On with the walk.
From Ware, things improve. There are things to look at and for the first time, the Lea can be described as a River, rather than a Canal. I get to dodge dope smoking youths, admire the street art underneath the A10 and find the source the of the New River, which could be an inspiration of another waterway based London Adventure.
Lea, looking like a River |
The Start of the New River - running all the way to Islington |
Under the A10 and a mortality reminder from some blue toes. With eyes. |
A fine delivery into Hertford, which from the River is far prettier than I remember. A couple of hours before my scheduled train back, so a chance to tick off two of the four GBG establishments in the town.
The first, the handsome looking Old Barge is right on the water.
The Old Barge, Hertford
The Old Barge |
I make myself comfortable on a stool and experience the kind of service which is good for starting fights. I start my wait alone. Three bar staff are all refusing to make eye contact with me, busying themselves with making rounds of orange juice and lemonades, messing with the till or serving food.
I am joined by a lady, holding a menu. I joke about my cloak of invisibility. Another five minutes and we are still not acknowledged.
You can guess what's going to happen. A local comes in, is engaged with "I'll be with you in a minute" and then promptly offered service.
Counteracting my in built politeness. I point out that I was next and got met with "Well, we cannot keep on top of everything". I would have accepted this, but menu lady went off at the deep end and fired off a broadside about how she either should have asked who was next or at least acknowledge us as we had both been there for quite a while.
On the plus side, it provided plenty of time to work out what I would have. It was nearly a Woodforde Wherry (last seen in Norfolk) but I did a bit of #TryJanuary and went for an Otter Dark.
And I thought I had met all the Otters.
My first pint of Mild? I tried to hide the Doom Bar Glass. |
The GBG provides a chance to sample all sorts of environments. From the too busy to cope Old Barge, to the three punters strecthing out a pint with the papers, Old Cross Tavern.
Already looking like my sort of place |
#Tryjanuary is knocked on the head, as I shun the four unknown real ales for a Perfectly Served Timothy Taylor.
The silence is only broken when a couple come in - look around and leave in a fit of giggles.
A couple of one liners "was it something I said?, they don't know what they're missing, etc." and we we all heads down and back to our papers.
Bliss, and another GBG success.
A little bit of Yorkshire in Hertfordshire |
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