Twas a funny morning, it turned out. Our 9:27 train wasn't showing on the boards. We stumbled towards the conductors who assured that there was a train. As the minutes ticked by, we started to worry. Finally, clutching our coffees and looking rather sheepish, we approached the conductor with the bushy white moustache. He said jollily, "Oh don't worry, there is a train. We accidentally took it off the board and don't know how to put it back on!" Bless, that's British Rail for you!
It didn't take us long to get to Wendover, our starting point. Wendover is a market town at the base of the Chiltern Hills in Buckinghamshire, England. Walkers call this area "the Chilterns." The name "Wendover" comes from a Brythonic origin and means "white waters." It was so named in reference to the stream that flows from the hills through the middle of the town, bringing chalk deposits with it. In the surrounding areas, lie numerous hamlets (ie. small rural communities, not dead Danish princes.)
We made our way through the first of many fields, pastures and little quiet nooks of residence. It was very silent. We were surrounded by vegetation and trees. The promising early sun had retreated, and we left with a dense, cloudy sense of inquietude.
Lunch came early, since there were a few points we had wandered off map (code word for being lost.) It was harder to be good-humoured since detours involved going down and back up hills.
Ali: Let's just head roughly south. (Ali is Keeper of the Book today.)
Me: Roughly sounds dangerous. We could end up in Africa.
Dr.J: We have to see sea first.
After another detour.
J: It's my mother's 70th this week.
Me: I'd congratulate anyone who reaches 70 these days.
Ali: I think we're off map.
Me: I can think one who might not reach 37.
We had lunch at the very pretty Rising Sun pub where we were given blue plastic booties to wear over our boots (they don't want our filthy mud everywhere!) The sun emerged briefly like a diva and smothered us with overcompensated heat, and just as quickly, disappeared. I discovered I'm not fond of baked avocado. Strange, I adore raw ones.
Soon we were back on our feet and onwards between forests and fields, and we took the little back trails between hamlets.
This odd sense of unreality started to affect my ability to read. I kept misunderstanding signs, and since I lag behind taking photos, the rest would suddenly hear me howling wildly with laughter at the back.
Like this one - my first thought was - Why are the ducks moving so slowly? Is it the heat? Are they special ducks?
To me, this read as sheep were very pleased when dogs wore collars and leads. Leather-Kinky!
I blamed it on the humidity.
It was almost a relief to see tarmac.
Did I mention that today's walk was given a 7/10 for difficulty by Time Out's Country Walks Volume 1?
The reason, as we found out, was because the path went up and down, up and down, up and down...
Thankfully, some of the ups were worth it.
There was very little mud today, despite the wet week we had before this. But we were right in the thick of wild flowers, weeds, plants and shrubs.
I arrived at a spot to see Dr. J staring at a clump of wild flowers.
Dr. J: Hmm.
Me: Yesh?
Dr. J: Do you think these blue flowers and these blue flowers are somehow related?
Me: (marginalised Asian reaction) So because they're the same colour, they look the same to you? Isn't that racism?!!
But Dr. J had many last laughs really, as he watched me struggle over stile after stile. Stiles are NOT made for short people. It's so high my knee connects with my face as I try to throw one leg over. Then though I manage to get the second to follow, the ordeal's not over as I would still have to jump off the stile onto a slope/ditch/wetmud/clump of nettles praying I won't land camera first. Most ungainly.
If I was at odds with the woods today, eventually, I too succumbed to its spell. It just took a certain slant of light.
The wildness which had oppressed and frustrated me, suddenly became otherworldly.
This cow did look at us with some suspicion. We did not belong.
I wonder what this means. Note the similarities : symbol of guardianship or scary-thing that frightens?
It was definitely a tougher walk, even though we've covered longer distances. The last two miles were completed through sheer bloody-mindedness.
I was stuck on a stile as the deer bounded across the field and just managed to snap one that paused to stare at me. They're astonshingly powerful, nimble and graceful. Then it hit me, this is really their terrain. I don't think it should have been easy.
I wonder how many roads and tracks we've blasted through hills and plains, just to make things easier.
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