Day 56. Too Long. Too Hot.

Not much to say about today’s walk. Too long, at 35 kms. Especially in the conditions, hot. Not enough sustenance available on the way. We managed to come off the canal at one spot – Chivers Coton – where we had learned there was a craft centre with 20-odd craft shops and a café. We homed in on the café, of course, where, in addition to our tea and buns, I received a donation from the lady behind the counter. Interesting that the church in this village was built by German prisoners-of-war. Shame that we had to add to our distance by diverting from the canal for this welcome sit-down.

We (Septimus was with me) walked on to Atherstone.. Day’s distance 35 kms. Total so far 1563.5 kms.

Had a ‘phone call on the way, from Nicola in Iddly, who told me that Fabrizio is in Malmo, Sweden. A few minutes later we walked past a boat called “Malmo”.

Once again we have an appallingly weak signal strength (what am I paying for here?) so can not load photographs for today or the outstanding ones for the past two days. (I managed to load them on Saturday).

Today is the end of the 8th week of walking without a day off. I am hoping to have a couple of rest days in the last two weeks so that we can make some nostalgic side-trips, driving the while.

Blog Day 55. Misery.

They are a miserable lot round here.

I walked from Braunston to Brinklow, 25.5 kms, on the Oxford Canal. 1528.5 kms so far.

Soon after I set out, I saw a narrowboat pulling out from the bank. This is really noticeable at that time, because most of the boat people don’t seem to crank themselves up until 10 am or so, and I start walking between 6 and 7. I recognised a boat. For a couple of hours yesterday I kept (I accidentally wrote “kep” there but had to change it in case you thought Dolly Parton is writing this blog) passing it. When I stopped to proselytise, it passed me. When I started walking, I passed the boat again. The “driver” did not look up. After several of these incidents, I said something banal like “We’ll have to stop meeting like this”. He said “You’ve done a few miles”. End of conversation. Today I stopped and reminded him that we had been passing and repassing for much of yesterday. I expected a bit of banter about this. What I got was “Yes”.

I came off the canal at Rugby to walk into the town centre for a coffee. This was a bit of a blunder. I hadn’t realised just how big Rugby is. At one stage I thought I would be adding many kms to today’s walk. But with the help of my Satmap, I managed to strike more or less due north to meet the canal where it swooped round Rugby. I rejoined the canal at Newbold on Avon, where the first thing I had to do was walk through this spectacular tunnel.

The day had started out with spits and spots of rain, as John Kettley used to say on the weather forecast, but turned out bright and hot. We are now parked up at the Bull’s Head in Brinkley. Mr and Mrs Septimus have just arrived. They are staying in the pub tonight and Septimus is walking on with me to Atherstone tomorrow.

Oh, the miserable bit! The man on the boat may not have been a local, but most of the people in Rugby seemed to walk past with their eyes firmly fixed to the floor in case they should accidentally speak to, or even look at, a stranger. Like English people abroad. Maybe they are still ashamed of that fellow at Rugby School who picked up the soccer ball and ran with it.

Oh, OK, not most of them – some of them. I spoke to a number of very friendly people. The jury will disregard my remarks. But these two fishermen did not even turn round or answer when I passed and spoke to them.

Day 54. Small World.

A much better signal today, so I have inserted the photographs which were missing from my blog on Monday and Tuesday.

It was a long walk from Claydon Locks to Braunston. When we were planning this yesterday evening, we realised that I would pass through the 1,500 kms mark today, rather than Thursday as I predicted a few days ago. And so it came to pass. I walked 35.5 kms and the total progress now is 1503 kms. So we shall have a rare bottle of wine with dinner this evening.

For a change – since I arrived in England, that is – the day started cloudy and windy. It soon became humid, although the wind kept up. The towpath of the canal is surprisingly uneven, banked, and overgrown. Clearly, it is mowed regularly, but the path between higher vegetation, including nettles and brambles, is pretty narrow. The vegetation is winning the battle at the moment and is encroaching on the path. With the wind whipping said nettles and brambles about this morning, I ended the day a bit lacerated as well as lathered.

Soon after setting off I saw a fox on the opposite bank, only a few feet away from me. It was carrying some choice morsel in its mouth, presumably taking it home for the young ‘uns. I slapped leather, camera-wise, but the movement obviously irritated the fox, who high-tailed it across the fields. So, sorry, no photograph of the fox. But I do have one of a narrowboat called “Alchemy”, which makes a nice set with the one a couple of days ago named “Dire Straits”. And that is Gay waiting for me on the bridge at Braunston. And what is that “Wedding Bridge” all about. It was built only last year.

Sustenance is a bit sparse on the canals, at least in the mornings, when I walk. There are pubs every now and again, but they tend to open at lunchtime. I reached one pub at 8.25, which had a sign outside saying that it was open at 8.00 am. But there was no sign of life. Several people told me that there was a café at the bottom of the 9-lock flight approaching Napton, but there was no café to be seen. There was a shop. When I inquired about the ghostly café, it turned out the man who owned the shop used to go to school in Blackpool, where I am headed. He actually lived in Nelson, but was a boarder at Arnold School. Not only that, he used to dance with my former aunt by marriage, Jean Mortensen, the husband of Stanley, the man who scored most of the goals in the so-called “Matthews Cup Final”.

At Napton itself, the Bridge pub was open – I was there at 11.50 so had to wait a few minutes. The very nice lady mine host was from Darlington, where Gay hails from. Her husband, although South African, has a mother, or maybe grandmother, comes from Hurworth, just outside Darlington, where Gay was born. Small world!

Day 53. Looking To Laurels

A very pleasant walk from Somerton Bridge to Claydon Locks. Gay met me in Banbury, having sussed out a Costa’s coffee shop in the shopping mall right next to the canal. I have forsaken Starbucks for Costa’s when in England. Prefer their coffee, prefer their muffins, prefer their cups as opposed to transport café style mugs, prefer the fact that their premises don’t frequently look run-down and seedy. Look to your laurels, Starbucks – I, for one, am grateful to you for starting the coffee-shop culture, but, in Britain certainly, you are being left behind.

In the same mall we also found a Jessops camera shop where I was able to replace my camera case. On the previous one, the thing which the strap clips on to had become detached. I had stuck it together with the Uhu which “has been shown on TV” to hold a truck suspended from a crane. Well, it didn’t manage to suspend my camera and I had an urgent need of a new case because there was a constant danger of dropping the whole caboodle into the canal. There were expensive cases of all sizes in the shop but the one I bought, made of recycled material, cost me the princely sum of £8.

I had several conversations with people along the way. My technique is to say “I have walked here from the Pyrenees!” People invariably want to talk about it. I am happy to do so, and to tell them that I am raising funds for Pancreatic Cancer UK. I don’t give a hard sell, but if just a few of them, or only one of them, feels inclined to go away and donate online, it is worth the added time on my journey. And it’s nice to talk to people, anyway.

At one lock I spoke to Commander John I. Muxworthy, RN. He and his wife were manoeuvring their craft. He is the CEO of the United Kingdom National Defence Association, which has the objective of lobbying for increased, or even adequate funding, for the armed forces. There has been a scandalous rundown in the capabilities, pay and equipment of all three services at the same time as increasing demands on them. And at the same time as dishing out colossal amount of money to, for instance, bad bankers.

I walked 28 kms today. 1467.5 kms since starting VBW on May 15. 53 days of walking, without a rest.

We are at the Fir Tree Falconry at Warmington, a lovely campsite in a bowl, surrounding a lake. As the name implies, it is also a falconry centre, with birds on display (if you pay) and exhibitions of them flying.

Day 52. Guest Appearance.

We spent the night in a field, with lots of rabbits and another caravan about 50 yards away. The farmer kindly opened his gate for us at 6.15 instead of 8.00 am, so I could get under way.

I somehow found my way through all the disruption experienced yesterday, in the Pear Tree Roundabout area, and located the canal without too much difficulty. Actually, I would have found this very difficult without my Satmap Active 10 device, which clearly showed me the options on screen.

Long Lost Fred had telephoned yesterday afternoon to arrange a guest appearance on VBW. He had spoken to mine host at the Rock of Gibraltar, a pub on the Oxford Canal and had decided this would be the best place to meet me. That is until he realised how early I would be at that point. In the event, he drove to Lower Heyford, then cycled down the towpath to meet me. When we got back to Lower Heyford, we went to the café there. We took our scones and coffees into the garden, until Fred realised that his yellow cycling shirt was covered in hundreds of small black critters. Fred promptly disappeared. I couldn’t find him. Eventually, I left a message with the café staff and re-crossed the bridge to the towpath, and there he was. We proceeded without incident, except for Fred falling off his bike, to Somerton Bridge, where Gay was waiting for us. A few hundred metres before that point, some people with a Great Dane on a narrowboat whooped and cheered and said well done to me (at this point I had lost Fred again because he had stopped to adjust his brakes). It turned out that these people had been talking to Gay and had left a small donation with her.

After a cup of tea and some coconut macaroons, Fred cycled back to Lower Heyford. And I was able to tell Gay that, to match the donation (for Pancreatic Cancer UK) she had received from the boat people, I had a blue note from Peter and Iris. How did that come about? When I reached the Rock of Gibraltar, like all the pubs on the canal at that time of day, it was closed. I asked a couple, who turned out to be Peter and Iris, if there was anywhere open for tea or coffee. They dragged me back to their narrowboat and regaled me with tea and biscuits. We had a nice chat, and as I was leaving they gave me the donation and wished me luck.

I walked 26 kms. VBW total so far 1439.5 kms. Looks as if a small celebration may be called for in a couple of days, when I reach 1500 kms. In fact it looks like Thursday, which could be ideal because Septimus and Mrs Septimus are going to pop up again, stay overnight at the hotel in Brinklow outside which we will be parked, then Sep will walk the Friday stage with me.

Day 51. Extra. Rescheduling

As foretold, some replanning is underway as a result of the megadays which had accidentally crept in to waylay me after I came ashore in Portsmouth as an innocent French-trained walker. Those megadays had to be liquidated, split up, and cast to the four winds, resulting in me being two days behind schedule when entering the canal system, which is now.

This is where I shall be walking to for the next few days. Where we shall be staying is sometimes another story because for some reason, campsite developers have not given VBW a very high priority while choosing their whereabouts.

Day 51. North of Oxford, Pear Tree Roundabout and Nightmare Incorporated.
Day 52. Somerton Bridge.
Day 53. Claydon Locks.
Day 54. Braunston.
Day 55. Brinklow.
Day 56. Atherstone.
Day 57. Fradley Junction.
Day 58. Wolseley Bridge.

A Vulcan bomber, or rather the only Vulcan bomber still flying (and this one has had to be resurrected) flew over V-Force One an hour ago. It is rather small in the picture, but if you double click it will enlarge and you will see what a beautiful aircraft this is - at least the equal of Concorde. I remember when they were flight-testing them in the 50s. Then, and for some time in service, the planes were white, and excellent to behold. Then they went onto camouflage, like this one, which is not quite so good.

Day 51.Transition To Canals

Back to Abingdon this morning for the last bit of the Thames Path, as far as I am concerned. The beginning of the Oxford Canal is very close to the Thames, so it would be an easy transition. Except that I chose to walk into the heart of Oxford, not having been there for many a long year.

On my way out of Oxford, I passed the Randolph Hotel and couldn’t even remember why it was I used to stay there. I followed the OS map, in Satmap form, back to the canal, only to find that the street which I expected to debouch onto the canal bank was in fact a dead end. I returned to a street which ran parallel with the canal, but which had many smaller streets heading in the direction of the non-running water (my late friend Richard Burman frequently asked people if they could “point him in the direction of running water” – he used this phrase as other people would refer to “spending a penny”). Any or all of these streets could be dead ends. Fortunately, I espied a couple coming out of their house and asked for help. Not only did they show me the way to go, but they insisted on crossing my palms with silver intended for the purple Pancreatic Cancer UK collecting tin which we keep in V-Force One.

The canal was very crowded with boats, mainly parked, including some with alarming jungles growing all over their roofs. I was very surprised by all the apartment blocks built right up to the canal bank on the other side. They went on for quite some distance.

I had arranged to meet Gay at the Pear Tree Roundabout Services. She texted to tell me the service area is closed for refurbishment but she was taking tea at the Holiday Inn next door. It seemed to me, when I was close, that the whole area was being refurbished. Lots of roadworks, which resulted in closure of the canal towpath. I came up onto a very busy road and, in order to make my way to the Holiday Inn, had to cross building sites, climb fences, force my way through one of those impenetrable thickets they build on the slopes of motorways and other fast roads, and inch my way along one of these fast roads, on the inside of the crash barrier, which was frequently being assaulted, as was I, by the thicket. I eventually made my way to the Holiday Inn, with skin battered, bruised and torn.

Judging by the difficulty we had driving off the HI carpark onto Pear Tree Roundabout on a Sunday, it will be very unpleasant for Gay after she has dropped me off there tomorrow morning.

We are on another Caravan Club CL site, which means that we are camped in a field, with very few facilities. There is a water tap. Nothing else. And we are locked in here until 8 am tomorrow morning.

I walked 24.5 kms. VBW total 1413.5 kms. It was far too hot for walking. Have England and France swapped weather systems?