11 April 2013: 28k. Started 09:15. Arrived 16:50.
I had a thought that there was a newly published Ordnance Survey Pennine Way map covering the whole Pennine Way. Hence my delayed start as I went to a newsagent and then waited for WH Smith to open at 09:00. It wasn’t available in either shop, which wasn’t surprising as it does not exist. I did not want to rely on my Garmin GPS without the back up of a map as I realised that the Pennine Way is serious walking in parts. At least I already had in my rucksack Paddy Dillon’s Cicerone Guide with its strip maps and route descriptions; besides which the Pennine Way was still three walking days away so I was sure I could sort out something.
I had my very first rain since Cornwall – definitely can’t complain about that. I hope no one was watching me as I entered Rocester where I walked round three sides, rather than one, of a square playing field. It turns out that Rocester had a significant role in the Industrial Revolution – Richard Arkwright bought an old corn mill there on the River Dove in 1781 and converted it into a cotton mill. It remained the major employer until the 1950s and finally closed in 1985. The town has been more or less taken over by JCB (of digger fame) who are now the major employers and the old mill is the home of part of the JCB Academy – a secondary school concentrating on engineering and business qualifications. That might explain why I saw about eight children waving as they were having a ride in the scoop of a JCB.
I made a small detour into the centre of the village. it was raining a lot and I was pleased to find a coffee shop open for business.
Short break over, I was soon walking through the grounds of the site of the mediaeval Rocester Abbey before being faced with multiple path choices. I must have chosen the wrong one but soon realised my mistake and managed to cut across to the correct one. Unfortunately that soon led to a field containing two curious bullocks. I thought they hadn’t noticed me but of course they had and began trotting towards me as I walked along the edge of the field. They looked huge and menacing so I dived under the barbed wire fence. I survived but my waterproof rucksack cover was in a sorry state. Next it started to rain again.
However at least I was on the other side of the fence from the bullocks. Safely separated from them, they looked friendly and perplexed so I even took a photograph of them. I tried but failed to repair my cover with first aid tape and plasters. The adhesive just did not stick properly. Positioning my survival bag in the rucksack webbing so it provided some water protection where my cover was ripped proved a better plan, especially with the help of a couple of strategically placed safety pins to close some of the rips.
Of course, that episode not only wasted time but had put me in the wrong place for the path. Eventually I was pleased to reach a gated road. Soon I turned off on a pleasant path over hilly fields (containing sheep) then along the riverside to the youth hostel at Ilam.
The hostel building was more like a stately home. The other guests seemed to be a mix of elderly people and school parties, the latter presumably explaining the presence of a large coach.
Before dinner, I set to work with what turned out to be the definitive repair to my rucksack cover. This involved a lot of sewing for ninety minutes using the same small kit that had previously been so useful to mend my trousers. I turned out to be sharing the small dormitory with Hannah who was an architect employed on a scheme for young professionals to gain conservation experience. She had just spent the day at Chatsworth. She was very sympathetic about my rucksack cover but, by the time I saw her, the repair was almost complete.
The hostel dinner was amazing. Lasagne, pizza, garlic bread, vegetables, pudding, fruit – all as much as you want. Certainly it was a far cry from how I remembered youth hostels in the 1970s and early 1980s. A peaceful night followed.
Where's Kathryn? 