Marchant seule
Today being of the 'bright-and-sunny' variety, on went the boots and jumper and I ventured forth. After nipping back to invest in layers, gloves and scarf (it might look gorgeous but the wind was positively glacial) I determined to explore the hidden corners of the village in which I live.
After deciding the see where the postbox lane leads to, I eventually found myself back on the main road. In a while I found another little footpath debouching between a sluggish stream and terrace of cottages. It led into fields where the wildlife immediately identified me as a 'person of interest', and approached.
There are four horses; the large chestnut is behind the leading grey. After convincing them that my camera was not some delicious treat specifically for them, they lost interest and went back to the grass.
During my retreat, (obligatory, since I could see no way out of the field) I startled something large and pale from the scrub beside the stream. I think it might have been a female pheasant--I know it gave me a start! I was watching where I put my feet. Mud + horse poo = much attention on my part.
More pavement bashing later and I found an access road that led seemingly to the middle of nowhere. Being the curious sort, I negotiated the gate and followed it around. Passing the unmarked MOD buildings (honestly, they don't need a sign--it stands out a mile!) I ambled over an earthwork and found a portion of the local Coastal Way. For your amusement, here is the view.
You will note the distinct lack of visible 'coast'. :) The settlement you see in the first one is the edge of my closest town, probably about 3 miles away at this point. Looking to the sun, the distant hills are Clywydd and Snowdonia. The Coastal Way at this point follows the top of a high bank thrown up to afford some protection to the numerous static caravan 'parcs' from inundation. You will have noticed that it's 'flatter than a flat thing' around here, and indeed, as I walked along, feeling rather like I was patrolling my bit of the ramparted hill fort, I looked down on an eclectic collection of flotsam. Mostly, it was driftwood with the usual assortment of plastic detritus but this stopped me in my tracks for its incongruity. We're easily 1.5 miles from a navigable channel. Walking on, I suspect it's been dumped. The high wheel count suggests this, too. However, the land is private and becomes an airfield further down.
I passed some pretty cottages, optimistically named things like 'Sea View' and 'Water's Edge'. It reminded me of a certain Fawlty Towers episode. "It says sea view. Where's the sea?" "Over there, between the land and the sky."
The Coastal Way conveniently took me homewards, albeit by a winding route. I paused beside the bench (No, I didn't sit down.) to admire the colourful primulas. The delicate petals fairly glow in the clear Spring sun and their sheltered position in a raised bank concentrated their elusive scent. Just gorgeous.
From here it was another ten minutes to a comfy sofa, coffee and lunch; applewood smoked cheddar on my oat bread, baby plum tomatoes and few grapes. Now I have to summon up the enthusiasm to clean my boots...
À la préchaine!
After deciding the see where the postbox lane leads to, I eventually found myself back on the main road. In a while I found another little footpath debouching between a sluggish stream and terrace of cottages. It led into fields where the wildlife immediately identified me as a 'person of interest', and approached.
There are four horses; the large chestnut is behind the leading grey. After convincing them that my camera was not some delicious treat specifically for them, they lost interest and went back to the grass.
During my retreat, (obligatory, since I could see no way out of the field) I startled something large and pale from the scrub beside the stream. I think it might have been a female pheasant--I know it gave me a start! I was watching where I put my feet. Mud + horse poo = much attention on my part.
More pavement bashing later and I found an access road that led seemingly to the middle of nowhere. Being the curious sort, I negotiated the gate and followed it around. Passing the unmarked MOD buildings (honestly, they don't need a sign--it stands out a mile!) I ambled over an earthwork and found a portion of the local Coastal Way. For your amusement, here is the view.
You will note the distinct lack of visible 'coast'. :) The settlement you see in the first one is the edge of my closest town, probably about 3 miles away at this point. Looking to the sun, the distant hills are Clywydd and Snowdonia. The Coastal Way at this point follows the top of a high bank thrown up to afford some protection to the numerous static caravan 'parcs' from inundation. You will have noticed that it's 'flatter than a flat thing' around here, and indeed, as I walked along, feeling rather like I was patrolling my bit of the ramparted hill fort, I looked down on an eclectic collection of flotsam. Mostly, it was driftwood with the usual assortment of plastic detritus but this stopped me in my tracks for its incongruity. We're easily 1.5 miles from a navigable channel. Walking on, I suspect it's been dumped. The high wheel count suggests this, too. However, the land is private and becomes an airfield further down.
I passed some pretty cottages, optimistically named things like 'Sea View' and 'Water's Edge'. It reminded me of a certain Fawlty Towers episode. "It says sea view. Where's the sea?" "Over there, between the land and the sky."
The Coastal Way conveniently took me homewards, albeit by a winding route. I paused beside the bench (No, I didn't sit down.) to admire the colourful primulas. The delicate petals fairly glow in the clear Spring sun and their sheltered position in a raised bank concentrated their elusive scent. Just gorgeous.
From here it was another ten minutes to a comfy sofa, coffee and lunch; applewood smoked cheddar on my oat bread, baby plum tomatoes and few grapes. Now I have to summon up the enthusiasm to clean my boots...
À la préchaine!