“The real test for any choice is having to make the same choice again, knowing full well what it might cost.” The Oracle, The Matrix Revolutions
15th Jan
The walk this week was one that I had done before a number of years ago, so I knew what I was letting myself in for. At least that was the theory. Flask of coffee, water for me and #dogbeast (and a fistful of dog biscuits) and we were off. 10am on a cold, but clear Saturday morning saw us pull into the carpark of Cam Peak to walk the Uley Ring.
The OS app says that the route is 5 and half miles and should take about 2 hours. But, knowing that most people who use this app are ‘serious walkers’ I allowed 3.
I should mention that I haven’t kitted myself out fully yet. I am still to get a decent waterproof, I was wearing jeans and had a Bath Rugby Club wooly hat on. None of this bothered me at the time. I did stop and think twice about the jeans, knowing full well that if we were caught in a rain shower I would be really uncomfortable for the rest of the walk. What I didn’t count on was the grief that my hat would attract.
I should have known. I live in the middle of Gloucestershire. I was stopped three times on the first hill by people who were delighted to point at my hat and say such motivational things as “that’s brave around here”, and “your problem this year is your coaching staff” and “have you packed your prawn sandwiches?”
In the end, by the time the fourth person was about to educate me on my poor choice of Rugby teams to support I preempted by telling them it had been a Christmas gift from my daughter and I didn’t know much about the sport, preferring motor racing instead. I heard him shout “Hamilton was robbed, bloody disgrace!” As I hurried past to get to the top of the first hill.
Still, make it we did, and looked out on the mist shrouded vista of the Severn Ox-Bow. Stunning. (Note to self, remember photos next time.)
We were passed by some trail runners on several occasions. I think we might have been lapped, but it wasn’t a race, so made good time until we made ‘the hill’.
Everyone needs a nemesis to hate, to attack, to best. This hill is one of them. Leafy, dappled with sun through bare winter trees, the faintly pleasant smells of the dairy farm urging you onwards I stepped into the lane that would take #dogbeast and I to the top of Uley Bury from Hodgecombe Farm.
It was bloody murder. Stopping at least three or four times on the way up I had to keep reminding myself why I was doing this. Legs screaming, panting like a racehorse, I fell victim to a false summit about half way up and pushed to reach it. Only to look at the lane stretching ahead of me and turn to the left to rob me of the sight of the car park that I knew was at the top.
The route profile shows the hill at the 40 minute mark. It was a nightmare.
When, eventually, we did get to the car park and a bench where I could stop, gather my wits and have some coffee #dogbeast decided that this would be the perfect time for me to throw a ball, play and generally pay him some attention. I was able to do none of these things. So I growled at him, he looked at me quizzically and bounded away whining and barking. Finishing my coffee, we set off for the rest of the ring.
(It says 2 hours, because I thoughtfully paused the tracker on my watch every time we stopped. Not sure I’ll do that next time as it doesn’t represent true pace.)
We finished at 1:30 in the afternoon, it didn’t rain and no-one else accosted us over my choice of headwear. So all in all a good (if not lumpy) excursion.
Next week, we’re doing it again. The young Dacombe is coming with us as we attempt the Owlpen Ring. Which takes the same bloody Hill at Hodgecomb Farm to get there.
Not going to get better at this if I take the easy options.
“It is not our abilities that show what we truly are, it is our choices.” Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.
