Dateline: Sunday 29th April, 2007
So it was up bright and early, so early that Radio 4 was still god-bothering and had to be turned off. It seemed strange getting up and ready with no noise in the house except us, the radio is usually on from the time we get up (before, actually) to the time we go to bed. By the time MrBlogger and I sat down to humungous bacon sarnies (half a ciabatta each with several rashers of dry-cured smoked streaky bacon and - of course - Heinz ketchup) the radio was back on again and life seemed more normal. I packed up a small picnic of miniature Melton Mowbray pork pies, picnic eggs and small panini rolls filled with cheddar, cambozola or pâté. I added a small coolbag of bottled St Omer beer and a hipflask filled with sloe gin to keep us going. Found the suncream, my sunhat and a water bottle, and we were all set.
S & P turned up in good time, just as I was finishing packing the picnic. In fact, they were early by my reckoning... After a quick discussion about the best way to get to the end point to leave one car, we set off under misty, almost overcast skies. Of course, going through the middle of Wallingford had its disadvantages: MrBlogger and I were caught by the traffic lights at the crossroads and then again at the bridge, where S & P had sailed through right in front of us. Rats and double rats! By the time we got to Wendover we'd caught up, only to sail past the road that led to the pub! Thank goodness for mobile phones... A quick call to S & P, and we'd turned around and headed back towards Hale Lane (which just happens to be part of the Icknield Way). Then came the difficulty of navigating the country lanes. I was driving, MrB was navigating sans reading glasses and we'd failed to set up the GPS because we knew where we were going. With hindsight, that possibly wasn't the most sensible plan. A couple of U-turns later, and we were barrelling down a lane and almost went straight past the pub as it's tucked away in a sharp left-then-right. I just managed to turn in, followed by S & P. We chucked comfy shoes in the back of our car and all piled into S & P's truck, and headed off for Ivinghoe. I spent most of the journey sitting under Dilly; Sage spent the journey in the front passenger footwell under S's feet.
As we approached Ivinghoe, P commented that he thought there used to be a windmill thereabouts. As he spoke, said windmill hove into view: "oooh, it'll be that one in the field to the left then?" we asked mischievously. At the car park, we decanted and followed the signs to the start of our walk.
It felt cooler than it had done previously, the visibility was reduced by a fine haze and the Sun was hiding behind a layer of thin, high cloud. In fact it almost looked as though it might rain, which could have been a slight problem as I'd decided not to bring a waterproof. Once at Ivinghoe Beacon itself, the wind felt a touch too keen to stay up there for long, so we set off down the hill towards the road. At the road, another signpost reassuringly told us the we'd already walked 0.3 miles and had a mere 87 to walk to the end of the Ridgeway. More comfortingly, Tring station was only 3.2 miles and that was almost halfway along our planned walk for the day. Once we'd crossed the road it was up Steps Hill through chalk scrubland to Incombe Hole, which is a curious-looking cleft in the escarpment. I'd love to know what geological processes happened to create it, but I'm no Earth scientist so I can only guess at maybe glaciation.
From Incombe Hole, you could see the Ridgeway tracking down and straight across the Icknield Way and back up Pitstone Hill the other side. We followed on down to the Icknield Way, Dilly and Sage running free until the road. A short dog-leg left along the Icknield Way and then right again saw us heading up to Pitstone Hill. At the top there would have been a breathtaking view if it hadn't been for the haze; you could see the chalk pit at Folly Farm, and as the ridge turned to the left you could see a clay pigeon shoot down off the hill. As we turned, a pair of ducks flew overhead and Dilly got all excited: she's a trained gun dog, and suddenly thought she was working. We breathed a sigh of relief as they circled away, then gasped with disbelief as the ducks, frightened by the gunfire in the valley, circled back again. As they flew down below the ridgeline Dilly stood up on her back legs to track where they were going and was off to collect them before P managed to call her back!
We then found that the route of the path seems to have been moved. Aldbury Nowers is, I think, part of the National Trust's Ashridge Estate. The path as marked on the map continues to follow the ridge almost all the way through the Nowers, but the path to which we were directed is much lower and close to the fenceline along Northfield Grange. If it is the National Trust, then I assume the path has been moved for conservation reasons; I certainly hope that's what it's about. By this time we were quite warm, so it was a relief to get into the woods and out of the now-hazy sunshine. As we were walking through we spotted a wild flower none of us had ever seen before: it looked like a dead nettle, with dark green glossy leaves and bright yellow flowers. (I now know it's yellow archangel.) After a quick stop for tot of sloe gin and a brief rest, we carried on through the woods of Aldbury Nowers.
Once we'd left the woods behind we trekked along a path lined by shrubs and small trees past Westland Farm and came out on the road that runs past Tring Station (strangely enough called Station Road). We followed the road across the railway line and the canal, where we looked for somewhere to stop but couldn't really find anywhere so we carried on towards past Pendley Farm and (briefly) along an all-weather gallop. We said hello to several beautiful horses who looked as though they might make use of the gallop, and carried on towards Akeman Street (a Roman road) and across the A41. After the (relative) peace of woodlands, even with the hum of traffic in the distance, the two-lane dual carriageway was incredibly noisy almost to the point of being painful. As we came off the footbridge and to the edge of the road's cutting, the noise reduced to a bearable background level again. We found oursleves in a beautiful parkland meadow graced by several stately horse chestnuts, and stopped for a sit-down and a beer before pressing on once more.
As the Ridgeway skirted Wiggington, it passed another triangulation point from which we could look back at Pitstone hill, now far distant, and beyond it the very tip of Ivinghoe Beacon. The misty visibility added to the welcome illusion that we'd travelled far! After Wiggington we rejoined the Icknield Way briefly as the Ridgeway went through Bull's Wood and Tring Park. We noticed several benches on the right-hand side of the path, and a quick peer showed us a fantastic vista across the park to what I suppose must be Tring House. The path at this point was wide and went, straight as a die, between a huge variety of tall trees. After we left the Park, it was on through Bishop's Wood and out onto the road. We found a footpath that went through a rape field alongside the road rather than walking the road itself, and came out at Hastoe Cross. From there, a short walk along the road between Hastoe House and Hastoe farm took us past an elegant but abandoned house; no "For Sale" sign and no sign that anyone was looking after it, the poor thing was starting to gently fall into disrepair with wasps buzzing in and out of at least two gaps in the shingles. Very, very sad.
Pavis Wood and Northill Wood are mostly beech trees on chalk, so this time of year the bluebells are rife and a fantastic sight with the dappled sun on them. Again, the shade of the trees was very welcome as by this time the sun was almost fully out and the day had warmed considerably from the rather brisk wind at the start of our walk. At the end of Northill Wood where it meets the road, we left the Ridgeway for the time being and trudged down towards St. Leonards, comparing aches as we went. We followed straight along Bottom Road to a footpath to the right that cut across to the road parallel, practically staggered around the corner to the White Lion and collapsed gratefully into the nearest available seats outside. After a minute or two we managed to fetch some drinks and we sat resting, drinking and generally chilling for a bit. Once those drinks had gone down we fetched another round and the people running the pub kindly let us eat our picnic in their very pleasant garden.
After refuelling, it was back into our car and a drive back to Ivinghoe ("oooh, look, there's a windmill!") and a very quiet drive back to our local, where we managed to keep awake long enough for another couple of drinks, before staggering off home to supper and a very early bed!
RB
Walk statistics: We started from Ivinghoe car park at about 11.40 and arrived at the White Lion at about 15.40 having walked about ten miles. P's knee, although painful, held up very well; S and I both have sore hips one day later. The current plan is to do the next stage next weekend, the bank holiday Sunday, but I'll keep you posted!
