An unwise walk
A few days ago, I was struck with what seemed like a Very Good Idea. I've walked all the island paths numerous times, and sometimes it's nice to go somewhere new. Just over the water there are loads of unexplored paths. Winchester is the place where all paths meet, with so many named trails snaking through the city and surrounding countryside that the map looks quite bewildering. Winchester is just 15 minutes away from Southampton by train, so why not, thought I, take the train to Winchester, put together a circular walk consisting of several of the many named trails, then train back in time for dinner?
Well, with repect to that "Why Not?" the weather forecast should have given a very strong Why. Yesterday was HOT. I knew beforehand that yesterday was due to be HOT, so I can't even defend myself by saying it took me by surprise. If you have to do a long walk on a hot day, at least if you choose the coastal path, you get a nice cooling breeze. In heatwaves, the island is usually a few degrees cooler than nearby bits of mainland, due to the cooling effect of the sea. So I really should have backed out at that point.
But...! But...! But it was The Plan! It is impossible to alter The Plan.
So, undaunted - or, rather, daunted but doing it anyway - I headed off yesterday morning. I'd allowed myself loads of time to get ready - so much time, in fact, that naturally I ended up in a mad rush, and had to race madly down the hill. I got there in time... only to find that the ferry had just broken, and there would be a 25 minute wait to get a new one rushed over from Southampton. When it reached Southampton, the connecting bus wasn't there, so rather than wait for it, I decided to walk to the station, adding in some short bouts of running to ensure that I got there in time. I arrived with a couple of minutes to spare - arriving about ten seconds before the bus, which obviously had turned up, after all, but I beat it, so my decision to walk was ENTIRELY JUSTIFED, so there! - only to find that the train was 15 minutes late.
I reached Winchester eventually, only half an hour later than planned. You know the digital version of the OS map I was so excited about? Well, I went to open it up, and it shouted at me about needing data access - strange, given that I'd already downloaded the entire thing. To spare battery, I decided to wait and see how well signed the path was, and only open it up later, if needed.
A stupid mistake. I thought I could remember how to find the Itchen Way from Winchester. Coming to a nature reserve and footpath beside an Indubitable Itchen (magician's stage name?) I headed off along it, on a boardwalk across water meadows, surrounded by yellow flag and dragonflies.
The trouble is, there are countless Itchens, with the river branching into more arms than an octopus has legs. The nature reserve, it turned out, was entirely surrounded by Itchens, and there was no way out. I had to follow the circuit round, taking almost a mile to return to where I'd started. Oh well. At least it gave me the chance to see their decorative benches, ranging from the charming:
To the plain sinister:
I also liked their levitating otter.
Bowing to the inevitable, I activated my OS map and managed to find the Itchen Way. For the first mile or so, it looked much less Itchenous than the false track that had led me stray. It was an incredibly dubitable Itchen until I reached the A34, where it condescended to join me as we went on a dark and forbidding tunnel under the road. I didn't like the tunnel, and scurried through quickly.
I continued to follow the Itchen Way, occasionally glimpsing the Itchen, as it passed through villages like Martyr Worthy and Itchen Abbas, obviously the homes of the seriously affluent; there were some enormously desirable houses in these party. (Average house price in Itchen Abbas: £850,000). I took surprisingly few photographs. Although the path headed through perfectly pleasant agricultural land, there weren't really any stand-out vistas.
Somewhere near Martyr Worthy, I entered a field to see this sign.
Three fields later, people walking in the opposite direction would have been greeted by this.
No teams of work men were digging holes in the field, and I saw nothing worthy of horrified exclamation, nor sign of work that had been happening in the week, but abandoned at the weekend.
I think this is Itchen Abbas church. Most of the churches I passed had cute little bell towers like this, and Norman door arches. Most of the houses were made of flint, interspersed with bands of red brick - presumably the local building style. I wonder why it didn't spread to the island, since we, too, have lots of chalk and flint to play with.
I have no idea where this blasted tree was - somewhere near Avington Park golf course, I think - but I liked it.
It really was VERY hot - far too hot to be doing such a silly thing as walking. After some nettle-related dithering, I'd decided to wear shorts. This, too, was a Bad Idea. It's decades since I wore shorts for a walk, and I'd forgotten just how allergic I am to being brushed by long grass. Within an hour, my legs - or, rather, my left leg; for some reason, my right leg was entirely unscathed until the afternoon - was a solid mass of swollen lumps and wheals, as if I was suffering from some hideous pox.
The Itchen Way is an annoying path, which ignores the Multifarious Itchens (band name?) for miles on end, then suddenly remembers its job description and goes haring off at right angles to cross an Itchen. Having done so, it continues in that direction for a while, lost in thought, before suddenly remembering the need to cross more Itchens, whereupon it takes a sharp turn and goes haring back again, taking 2 miles to cover less than half a mile as the crow flies. At one such veering, I wrestled with the temptation to "accidentally" miss the turning, and continue along the pleasant country lane that the wildly veering Itchen Way was due to rejoin shortly. I'm glad I resisted this one, since it took me to a pleasant path between two branches of the Itchen, where all the terriers in Hampshire were being taken for walks.
A pleasant Itchen.
This finished beside a pub, where loads of people were showing a lot more sense than I was, in that they were sitting outside under sunshades having lunch and a pint, while I was charging past, red-faced and dripping and covered with lumps.
The next wild veering was an even more extreme one. I decided to turn a blind eye to the Itchen Way arrows, and pretend I was following one or other of the other named paths in the vicinity, walking through Titchborne - more lovely houses - after which I picked up the path again and headed towards Cheriton, where an unusual looking church was peeping at me over the trees.
I'd planned all along to pause at Hinton Ampner House, a National Trust property. With its entrance off a verge-less busy main road nowhere near any footpaths, it really wasn't set up for people visiting on foot. Like many such places, its easy to find the perimeter of the estate and locked gates marked "no access to house," but finding a way in when you're travelling at 4 mph rather than 40 can take some time. But eventually I managed to find a footpath that took me past the overflow car park, so all was good. "Do you want a map?" they asked me in the ticket office. "No!" I panted, with feeling. "Want tea shop!" Once there, I panted, "one apple juice, 3 waters and a mint cornetto." She asked me complicated questions about which apple juice I wanted. Bright red, dripping and tending towards incoherence - why does I always feel SO much worse just after I stop exercise than when I'm doing it? - I mumbled something confused - "um, a wet one?" or something like that. "Take this one," she said. "It's the coldest and you look like you need it."
Staggering, dripping and looking as if I'd been struck with some hideous infectious disease, I slumped down on a nice shady patch of well-mown grass under a tree, surrounded by poeple who were showing a lot more sense than I was, in that they were sitting on a blanket in the shade, having a nice leisurely picnic.
With sweaty hands and a condensation-covered bottle, I couldn't open my apple juice. I almost cried.
Cornettos are tiny nowadays! When did that happen?
Hinton Ampner House, complete with interesting topiary:
After Hinton Ampner, I followed the Wayfarer's Way for a while, then various other unnamed paths - quite unusual in these parts - until I made my way onto the South Downs Way, which I followed back to Winchester. At one point, when I was beginning to ration my remaining National Trust water, I noticed a refreshmant station beside the path, with a tap and "cycle pods," whatever they are. What a welcome tap it was, and what a good idea! One thing this country needs is more water fountains. A lot more water fountains.
Here is a brief patch of welcome shade:
With 27 miles of walk across countryside, the following picture depicts one of the best points of the walk: the bridge across the M3. Why was it so good? A beautiful cooling breeze!
And then through the fringes of Winchester, along the Itchen once again, where loads of people were showing a lot more sense than I was, in that they were sitting in the shade beside the river in sandals, or sitting outside a riverside pub with a pint.
Here is King Alfred greeting me home, waving his sword aloft to tell me just how stupid I was to walk 27 miles in a heatwave.
I got to the station at 6, only to find that they had had horrible signalling problems all day, and some services were cancelled. I managed to catch a train within 10 minutes, but it got as far as Eastleigh and then just sat there for 25 minutes, waiting for a replacement driver who was stuck on another late-running train. I arrived in Southampton just too late to have any chance of catching the 6.45 ferry and the next one wasn't until 7.45, so I decided to wait for the shuttle bus. After 15 minutes with no bus appearing, I gave up and walked, and got there in good time... only to find that the ferries were running 15 minutes late. So I got home at 8.45, having reached Winchester station at 6.
To be honest, I didn't really enjoy the day. It was just too hot to be enjoyable, and the scenery, while perfectly pleasant, lacked the interesting vistas that come from the coast or hills. In addition, there was the 5 hours of travel time in total, with loads of annoying waits. If I ever do go walking around Winchester again, I'll do it on a week day, when the ferries are more frequently and the trains start earlier and go faster.
Well, with repect to that "Why Not?" the weather forecast should have given a very strong Why. Yesterday was HOT. I knew beforehand that yesterday was due to be HOT, so I can't even defend myself by saying it took me by surprise. If you have to do a long walk on a hot day, at least if you choose the coastal path, you get a nice cooling breeze. In heatwaves, the island is usually a few degrees cooler than nearby bits of mainland, due to the cooling effect of the sea. So I really should have backed out at that point.
But...! But...! But it was The Plan! It is impossible to alter The Plan.
So, undaunted - or, rather, daunted but doing it anyway - I headed off yesterday morning. I'd allowed myself loads of time to get ready - so much time, in fact, that naturally I ended up in a mad rush, and had to race madly down the hill. I got there in time... only to find that the ferry had just broken, and there would be a 25 minute wait to get a new one rushed over from Southampton. When it reached Southampton, the connecting bus wasn't there, so rather than wait for it, I decided to walk to the station, adding in some short bouts of running to ensure that I got there in time. I arrived with a couple of minutes to spare - arriving about ten seconds before the bus, which obviously had turned up, after all, but I beat it, so my decision to walk was ENTIRELY JUSTIFED, so there! - only to find that the train was 15 minutes late.
I reached Winchester eventually, only half an hour later than planned. You know the digital version of the OS map I was so excited about? Well, I went to open it up, and it shouted at me about needing data access - strange, given that I'd already downloaded the entire thing. To spare battery, I decided to wait and see how well signed the path was, and only open it up later, if needed.
A stupid mistake. I thought I could remember how to find the Itchen Way from Winchester. Coming to a nature reserve and footpath beside an Indubitable Itchen (magician's stage name?) I headed off along it, on a boardwalk across water meadows, surrounded by yellow flag and dragonflies.
The trouble is, there are countless Itchens, with the river branching into more arms than an octopus has legs. The nature reserve, it turned out, was entirely surrounded by Itchens, and there was no way out. I had to follow the circuit round, taking almost a mile to return to where I'd started. Oh well. At least it gave me the chance to see their decorative benches, ranging from the charming:
To the plain sinister:
I also liked their levitating otter.
Bowing to the inevitable, I activated my OS map and managed to find the Itchen Way. For the first mile or so, it looked much less Itchenous than the false track that had led me stray. It was an incredibly dubitable Itchen until I reached the A34, where it condescended to join me as we went on a dark and forbidding tunnel under the road. I didn't like the tunnel, and scurried through quickly.
I continued to follow the Itchen Way, occasionally glimpsing the Itchen, as it passed through villages like Martyr Worthy and Itchen Abbas, obviously the homes of the seriously affluent; there were some enormously desirable houses in these party. (Average house price in Itchen Abbas: £850,000). I took surprisingly few photographs. Although the path headed through perfectly pleasant agricultural land, there weren't really any stand-out vistas.
Somewhere near Martyr Worthy, I entered a field to see this sign.
Three fields later, people walking in the opposite direction would have been greeted by this.
No teams of work men were digging holes in the field, and I saw nothing worthy of horrified exclamation, nor sign of work that had been happening in the week, but abandoned at the weekend.
I think this is Itchen Abbas church. Most of the churches I passed had cute little bell towers like this, and Norman door arches. Most of the houses were made of flint, interspersed with bands of red brick - presumably the local building style. I wonder why it didn't spread to the island, since we, too, have lots of chalk and flint to play with.
I have no idea where this blasted tree was - somewhere near Avington Park golf course, I think - but I liked it.
It really was VERY hot - far too hot to be doing such a silly thing as walking. After some nettle-related dithering, I'd decided to wear shorts. This, too, was a Bad Idea. It's decades since I wore shorts for a walk, and I'd forgotten just how allergic I am to being brushed by long grass. Within an hour, my legs - or, rather, my left leg; for some reason, my right leg was entirely unscathed until the afternoon - was a solid mass of swollen lumps and wheals, as if I was suffering from some hideous pox.
The Itchen Way is an annoying path, which ignores the Multifarious Itchens (band name?) for miles on end, then suddenly remembers its job description and goes haring off at right angles to cross an Itchen. Having done so, it continues in that direction for a while, lost in thought, before suddenly remembering the need to cross more Itchens, whereupon it takes a sharp turn and goes haring back again, taking 2 miles to cover less than half a mile as the crow flies. At one such veering, I wrestled with the temptation to "accidentally" miss the turning, and continue along the pleasant country lane that the wildly veering Itchen Way was due to rejoin shortly. I'm glad I resisted this one, since it took me to a pleasant path between two branches of the Itchen, where all the terriers in Hampshire were being taken for walks.
A pleasant Itchen.
This finished beside a pub, where loads of people were showing a lot more sense than I was, in that they were sitting outside under sunshades having lunch and a pint, while I was charging past, red-faced and dripping and covered with lumps.
The next wild veering was an even more extreme one. I decided to turn a blind eye to the Itchen Way arrows, and pretend I was following one or other of the other named paths in the vicinity, walking through Titchborne - more lovely houses - after which I picked up the path again and headed towards Cheriton, where an unusual looking church was peeping at me over the trees.
I'd planned all along to pause at Hinton Ampner House, a National Trust property. With its entrance off a verge-less busy main road nowhere near any footpaths, it really wasn't set up for people visiting on foot. Like many such places, its easy to find the perimeter of the estate and locked gates marked "no access to house," but finding a way in when you're travelling at 4 mph rather than 40 can take some time. But eventually I managed to find a footpath that took me past the overflow car park, so all was good. "Do you want a map?" they asked me in the ticket office. "No!" I panted, with feeling. "Want tea shop!" Once there, I panted, "one apple juice, 3 waters and a mint cornetto." She asked me complicated questions about which apple juice I wanted. Bright red, dripping and tending towards incoherence - why does I always feel SO much worse just after I stop exercise than when I'm doing it? - I mumbled something confused - "um, a wet one?" or something like that. "Take this one," she said. "It's the coldest and you look like you need it."
Staggering, dripping and looking as if I'd been struck with some hideous infectious disease, I slumped down on a nice shady patch of well-mown grass under a tree, surrounded by poeple who were showing a lot more sense than I was, in that they were sitting on a blanket in the shade, having a nice leisurely picnic.
With sweaty hands and a condensation-covered bottle, I couldn't open my apple juice. I almost cried.
Cornettos are tiny nowadays! When did that happen?
Hinton Ampner House, complete with interesting topiary:
After Hinton Ampner, I followed the Wayfarer's Way for a while, then various other unnamed paths - quite unusual in these parts - until I made my way onto the South Downs Way, which I followed back to Winchester. At one point, when I was beginning to ration my remaining National Trust water, I noticed a refreshmant station beside the path, with a tap and "cycle pods," whatever they are. What a welcome tap it was, and what a good idea! One thing this country needs is more water fountains. A lot more water fountains.
Here is a brief patch of welcome shade:
With 27 miles of walk across countryside, the following picture depicts one of the best points of the walk: the bridge across the M3. Why was it so good? A beautiful cooling breeze!
And then through the fringes of Winchester, along the Itchen once again, where loads of people were showing a lot more sense than I was, in that they were sitting in the shade beside the river in sandals, or sitting outside a riverside pub with a pint.
Here is King Alfred greeting me home, waving his sword aloft to tell me just how stupid I was to walk 27 miles in a heatwave.
I got to the station at 6, only to find that they had had horrible signalling problems all day, and some services were cancelled. I managed to catch a train within 10 minutes, but it got as far as Eastleigh and then just sat there for 25 minutes, waiting for a replacement driver who was stuck on another late-running train. I arrived in Southampton just too late to have any chance of catching the 6.45 ferry and the next one wasn't until 7.45, so I decided to wait for the shuttle bus. After 15 minutes with no bus appearing, I gave up and walked, and got there in good time... only to find that the ferries were running 15 minutes late. So I got home at 8.45, having reached Winchester station at 6.
To be honest, I didn't really enjoy the day. It was just too hot to be enjoyable, and the scenery, while perfectly pleasant, lacked the interesting vistas that come from the coast or hills. In addition, there was the 5 hours of travel time in total, with loads of annoying waits. If I ever do go walking around Winchester again, I'll do it on a week day, when the ferries are more frequently and the trains start earlier and go faster.