I’m not sure where the interest came from but I’ve long been
interested in country walking. I love to
get out in the countryside and get some fresh air in my lungs, enjoy some views
and fanny about with my camera trying to get one shot I’m pleased with. Also, ever since I knew that they existed
I’ve wanted to walk national trails.
When I was twenty nine my former spouse and I attempted The Peddar’s way
in Norfolk. We had trained and prepared
and had good boots, gaiters, waterproofs and all of the equipment you could
need but, even though it was August, it rained relentlessly from the moment we
began. This meant that there was no
resting to take in the view or drink or eat.
Each day consisted of nothing but relentlessly knocking out the miles
with our heads down. Not even the most
effective waterproofs remain waterproof for the entire day. It was a miserable experience. I forget quite what her ailment was but the
former Mrs Bodger was struggling a great deal and so after completing two
fifths of the walk we headed home. I
would have carried on because, despite the rain and some aches and pains
myself, I viewed it as an adventure but out of loyalty to her I went home
too. I/we said there would be another
attempt at a long distance walk soon but there wasn’t one for years. Six years after the incomplete Peddar’s Way and
when there was no longer a Mrs Bodger I walked the South Wolds Way during a
pleasantly mild seven days in December.
I vowed to do more but once again another six years have passed.
I’m about to walk Glyndŵr’s Way. This hasn’t been months in the planning. It was only three weeks ago that Marianna
suggested I do a walk. I might normally
have said that we couldn’t afford it or that I had work to do but I just said
“okay” and organised it. I chose
Glyndŵr’s Way purely by looking at the list of The National Walks on a website
and choosing the first one that was over one hundred miles in length and wasn’t
closed for the winter as many of them were.
This morning I took the 11.22 train from Leamington Spa to
Birmingham Moor Street. It was standing
room only on the train with lots of people heading into the city for Christmas
shopping. From Moor Street I had to make
the short walk to New Street station, dodging shoppers and probably knocking
several flying with my rucksack. I
certainly didn’t feel the anonymity of looking slightly like a homeless person
that I often felt if I wandered into a town when walking the South Wolds
Way. Although I felt the need I
didn’t/couldn’t use the toilets at Birmingham New Street station. They charge you to deposit your waste there
and you have to put 30p into a slot and then go through a turnstile. The turnstile is so narrow it prevents anyone
with luggage or hips from entering. I
was next travelling with Welsh Trains to Shrewsbury. I had reserved seats for the journey but the
hatred that the Welsh and their language have for vowels is such that they
hadn’t labelled the carriages and Coach A wasn’t to be found. This was fine though since there were very
few people heading into Wales. At
Wolverhampton a young man got on, and felt the need to sit near me, who was
carrying the aroma my walking boots would have if I spent a year walking through
a swamp. I had a forty minute wait at
Shrewsbury station and arrived in Knighton, where the walk begins, at
14.56.
If you know me you’ll know I don’t like to be too far from a duvet
and hot shower. This isn’t a camping
holiday, it’s a walking holiday, so when I arrived in Knighton I headed for The
George and Dragon pub rather than a campsite.
Knighton is right on the English/Welsh border. When the driver applied the train’s brakes he
was still in England......England....England..England.WALES!! If you walk a few dozen steps away from the
town as you leave the station you’re back in England but I didn’t, I headed
into town. I walked past ‘The Table
Football Shop’ and easily found The George and Dragon pub. Yes, that’s right, a whole shop dedicated
solely to Subbuteo and that other one where you stand at the side of a table
and twizzle the players left and right.
It’s a strange idea for a shop and this remote town is an even stranger
place to have it.
When I arrived at The George and Dragon to check into my
accommodation the bar was full of red shirted men watching Wales play Australia
at rugby. Yep, I’d definitely crossed
the border. I then went to find the
Offas’s Dyke Centre. Waiting for me
there was my guide book for the walk. I
had ordered one online when I first organised the walk but got a message eight
days ago that my suppliers were out of stock.
I ordered one from Amazon but after indicating that it would be with me
by today an email followed a day later telling me they would be delivering it
to me mid-December. Slight panic. So, I was fully prepared apart from knowing
where I was walking except that I’d start in Knighton and end in Welshpool 136
miles later. However, I’d had the bright
idea of contacting the Offa’s Dyke Centre who had a copy of a different guide
book and agreed to put their only copy to one side for me. The Amazon order arrived on Thursday but I
still collected the one from the centre.
I then had a brief wander around the town. It’s the sort of small town you find a lot of
in Sussex; you can buy a mandolin, some antique furniture and some lovely
crockery but can’t buy petrol and may struggle to get a pint of milk. But I love tiny towns which won’t have famous
chain stores but will have So and So and son of This Town established a long
time ago. I then retreated to my
converted stable room behind The George and Dragon. I quite like that there’s no internet or
mobile signal here, although if I get lost over the next few days that aspect
will be far from amusing. I have a new mp3
player to entertain me, protein bars, the right clothing for walking, guidance
on stretches for my legs and hips each day and a whole hospital’s worth of
blister creams and plasters. I know I’m
under prepared physically but I’m more excited about doing this than I have
been about doing anything in a long while.
Tomorrow I’ll take the first step of my 136 miles.
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