Miles to Go - Day Seventeen

 Saturday 17^th July 2021

Considering how hot it has been lately, I decided it was time to start setting out for walks first thing in the morning, the way I had originally intended.  No more reading aloud for over an hour, going downstairs for a leisurely breakfast, and then getting washed and dressed.  Instead, I would get up straight away, get washed and dressed immediately, have a quick bite to eat, and set off.

Of course, I wasn’t all that organised, but after nearly setting out, nipping back to fetch two maps and a sunhat, forgetting to collect a mask (oh well, I’d got a disposable one in my bag for emergencies), I was finally on my way by 7.30.  It was early enough that most of the goats at a nearby farm were still in their stalls, butting at the walls and calling to be let out, apart from one who had found a way out.

I needed two maps today because, as I had time for an all-day walk, I wanted to see whether I could cope with walking to Wells and back.  The weather was already warm by early morning, but not unbearably hot, and I made fairly good time. 

After an hour, I was passing through the fields that lead to Maesbury Castle when a herd of cows, happily drinking from a water-trough when I arrived, decided to follow me.  Normally, cattle follow me through fields to escort me firmly off the premises, but if I actually turn to face them or try to stroke one, they back off.  These particular cows, however, were quite unabashed, and the lead cow was mainly interested in licking my backpack, chewing the straps and pulling the zip open to see whether I had any food inside.  Once I’d climbed a stile into the next field, I tried to wipe some of the cow drool off my bag with paper tissues, but eventually just had to trust that it would be less disgusting once it had dried.

After a couple of hours, I had arrived at East Horrington, and paused to pray at what looked like a church. 

I know I have been fooled before by mock-Gothic architecture, but this one had gravestones all around it, and it took me some time, walking round it looking for the entrance, before I found a sign saying, ‘Private residence’.  I wondered how it must feel to live in a converted church surrounded by the mortal remains of people’s much-loved fathers and mothers.  Do people still come here to visit the graves?

By 11, I was approaching Wells by the path that runs around the south side of the city, and I could already see Wells Cathedral. 

I followed the moat around the Bishop’s Palace,

and exited through the Bishop’s Palace Entrance Gate, where a busker was playing,

into the city of Wells and a busy market day.

I had a cup of tea and a rest at the Conservative Club, which looked the least crowded of the various cafés and where I had a pleasant chat with a cleaner and with a family at an adjacent table, before I was ready to stroll around the city.  The first thing I needed to do was buy a Big Issue, preferably from my friend Juana, who looks worryingly thin and has several children to support. 

I couldn’t see Juana today, however, so instead I bought the Big Issue from a man called Feral Wylde. 

I told Feral about my sponsored walk, and asked him whether he had ever used the Big Issue Foundation’s services.  He said no; he liked the Big Issue magazine because it gave him a way to earn a living, but he had been homeless for over thirty years and was used to taking care of himself, so he didn’t need the help of a charity.  Nonetheless, he said, he was glad to know that the Big Issue Foundation was there, like Crisis, to help people who needed it.

Last time I had been to Wells on a market day, the market had been almost entirely given over to tourist souvenirs and takeaways.  Today, while there were still bookstalls and stalls selling pretty jewellery and artworks,

it was encouraging to see it looking like a real market again, with stalls selling cheese, pickles,

fish,

charcuterie meats,

vegetables,

and bread.  I bought a granary loaf from the baker’s stall,

which was about as much as I could fit in my bag along with maps, water-bottles, and a hoodie in case it turned cold (ha!). 

However, the takeaways looked good, too, so I bought a Thai tofu curry with noodles (biodegradably served in a cardboard carton with a wooden fork). 

The only awkward moment was when I noticed that they didn’t want people paying by card for purchases under £10, and my meal cost only £8.  The man serving me kindly offered to stretch a point as long as I bought a spring roll to bring my bill up to £9.50.  I ate the curry (which was delicious and not too hot-tasting, but very filling) under a tree outside the Bishop’s Palace before setting off home.

As I left, the busker by the Bishop’s Palace gate was singing ‘Country Roads’, a song I have liked since learning to sing it at school when I was five.  This may have been an unusual choice for an infants’ school assembly, but it wasn’t nearly as dubious as ‘Four Nights Drunk’ (which they also taught us, and which I enjoyed singing but fortunately didn’t understand), and didn’t worry me nearly as much as ‘Streets of London’ and ‘Little Boxes on the Hillside’, which a different school made me sing when I was seven.

The morning’s walk had been surprisingly short, so I decided to make a detour through the woods of Biddle Combe on the way back.  The ferny wood looked pleasantly shady on the map, but turned out to be as sweaty and humid as a rainforest, and confusing to navigate.  When I emerged in the wrong place, into a field inhabited by another herd of cows, I felt like crying with frustration.  Fortunately, these cows were uninterested in licking me, but instead galloped up to me in formation, wheeled around as soon as they came close, and galloped away as one animal.

While they repeated their manoeuvres, I had a look at the compass and the map, managed to work out where I was, and returned to the wood now that I was walking in the right direction.  Before long, the path took me out to walk along the outside of the wood anyway, up to the junction of Haydon Drove and the A39.

By the time I was out on a road again, it was 4pm and hot, and my feet were aching.  It took me another three hours to get home, but the rest of the journey was along roads (preferably not too major roads where I could avoid them) and reassuringly straightforward.

By the time I arrived home at 7, I was too tired and sweaty to want to do much more with the evening than have a bath, map my route and read the latest chapter of PDB11’s translation before heading up to bed.  I felt pleased with myself for having completed eighteen miles, but very glad to have a day off tomorrow.

Miles walked today: 18

Total miles: 170