10 April 2013: 26km. Started 09:30. Arrived 16:00.
I remember now why yesterday was such a long day; I had wanted to stay in a B&B at Cannock Wood but it was fully booked when I enquired so I had to walk over the Chase to Rugeley. However this meant that I had a shorter day to follow.
The motel did not offer breakfast – there was a kitchen, but rather than making my own breakfast I opted for a local café and their “Mighty Breakfast”. It was a bargain – £5.30 for two eggs, two bacon rashers, two sausages, baked beans, mushrooms, hash browns, two slices of buttered toast and a mug of coffee. This set me up to go round the town – to the post office to get my record sheet stamped and to Morrisons for provisions. It was a lovely friendly place too – a customer in Morrisons even asked me about my walk (and was suitably impressed).
Escaping out of the other side of Rugeley was a bit more complicated than arriving but I eventually found my intended route by way of a canal towpath including an aqueduct where the canal bridged over the river.
I passed a reservoir on the way to Abbots Bromley but I found myself stuck between a barking and potentially nippy terrier who had run out of a driveway as I walked by and another larger terrier ahead of me. The barking dog overtook me and saw off the larger dog. Meanwhile I saw a lane I could turn down away from the dogs. Purely by chance, this led to a café in the middle of nowhere! One advantage of walking is that despite eating a lot, I nearly always lose weight. Notwithstanding my huge breakfast I stopped for very reasonably priced coffee and cake. The only other customers were some friends of the owner with their grand daughter. They informed me that it was newly open. I’m not sure how they will get trade tucked away like that, but it was very nice for me.
Abbots Bromley is a quaint village with a historic looking green area and a Butter Cross as well as two inviting looking pubs – but I had only just stopped. The Butter Cross is the oldest building in the village, dating from 13th or 14th century. It serves as a bus shelter nowadays. The village appeared to be a thriving community with lots of notices about events. The most notable event is the annual Horn Dance in early September – six Deer-men, a Fool, Hobby Horse, Bowman and Maid Marian dance all day to a melodian player accompaniment at various locations in and around the village.
The route to Uttoxeter was a well marked series of tracks, field paths (sheep and arable mix) and lanes. However it wasn’t quite without incident. Firstly an insect flew into my eye – it ended up irritating my eye for days before I managed to remove it – presumably got under the upper eyelid. Secondly an unaccompanied red setter came out of “nowhere” across a field barking menacingly. Eventually to my relief it suddenly lost interest in me and trotted off. I took a bit of a diversion to avoid any chance of it coming for me again (but I did not discover any more cafes).
Uttoxeter turned out to be a very user friendly place with absolutely everything I needed easily available. It was the last main place I expected to pass before getting on the Pennine Way. The counter assistant at the small Barclays Bank was extremely helpful about facilitating a large cash withdrawal to cover my needs until north of the Pennine Way. One advantage was that I have a “Premier” account which seemed to be privileged in those parts. When I tried to buy a postcard the lady at the newsagents was similarly most helpful in advising that the church was probably a better choice than the cemetery. Clearly they don’t get many tourists. Also, they did have a Wetherspoons – the second consecutive night eating at Wetherspoons.
Sadly my quest for onward accommodation was mixed. I discovered that there was no vacancy anywhere at Horton in Ribblesdale (not even a single bunkhouse bed) so I would have to manage a single day of over thirty miles across tough terrain on the Pennine Way from Malham to Hawes. I decided that, to compensate, I would stay two nights at the youth hostel in Hawes. This was the moment when I panicked about getting a bed at Byrness. That last bit of the Pennine Way is a tough twenty six miler anyway with nowhere to stay on the route, so my plans would be in ruins without a night at Byrness. The man at Byrness couldn’t have been more helpful and he worked out how he could fit me in – it was a “special” arrangement.
Accommodation safely booked and so to bed.
Where's Kathryn? 