Whilst it's not been officially announced it would seem that the lock-down is over, at least in England it is anyway. Last weeks sunshine saw an estimated ½ million people on the beach in Bournmouth, rioting in Brixton and the announcement that; that most British of institutions, the Great British Pub, would be reopening from July 4th. So, bearing all that in mind, and considering what's good for the Goose is also good for the Gander, it's time to start having some sensible, socially distanced adventures, all perfectly timed for me having a week off. “Ding Dang Do” as they say up North. Where do I start though? The Van's not been slept in since the first weekend in March, my Hammock and Bivvy's not been used in anger yet this year, the bike miles are way down on last year, and as for walking, well I've not even got my boots on yet, let alone started making any decent mileage. Bearing all this in mind I'd been keeping a keen watch on the weather all week and whilst gently boiling through the working week, things weren't looking so promising for the weekend. Never mind, mind made up, I was going out to play come what may. I loaded the bike Thursday night, made a special effort to ensure the garden and green house had enough water to last until Saturday and I spent most of Friday watching the clock slowly tick round to 17:00. At which point, as Murry Walker was so fond of saying “and their off”! Whilst my little adventure may not be quite within the scope of the law (Covid or otherwise), and never will be until they change the English countryside access laws to reflect those in Scotland, one little old me, on my own, on my bike, has got to be better than 300 people queuing to get into Primark, or 5,000 people jumping around outside Anfield in the week celebrating some football win or another. I'd scoped out a nice little 110 mile route a few weeks back with plenty of secluded Bivvying opportunities along the way ready for just this day, and by leaving late on Friday and getting an early start on Saturday morning I was pretty confidant that I could do the whole thing without seeing another person, let alone having to infiltrate their 2m social exclusion zone. Friday evening rolled around and things were looking good, the weather was still glorious with plenty of late evening sunshine and warm temperatures, the roads were quiet and I thoroughly enjoyed whiling away the hours and miles. Slowly feeling the worries of the working week ebb away with every pedal revolution as my thoughts turned to future adventures and the world around me. With 55 Miles under my belt for the evening and having not seen another person or car for the best part of 30 minutes, I found a nice little spot, well off the beaten track to pitch my hammock, debating for some time whether to bother putting up the tarp. It was after all a lovely evening and it didn't look like the forecast storms were going to materialise. In the end common sense won the argument, and I'm certainly glad that it did, as by midnight it was raining hard, and proceeded to continue on and off well into Saturday afternoon. Snug and dry in my little home from home, I had a pretty good nights sleep considering. Although, I was woken around 04:00 by some fellow Bivvy enthusiasts (our friends in the Army) practice firing what sounded like heavy artillery some miles away. I can well imagine their annoyance at spending Saturday night, in the rain, out on Salisbury Plain, loading artillery shells for some well imagined exercise, and once I'd got over the initial shock and decided that it wasn't incoming, and that I wasn't down range of their target, it was quite a nice feeling knowing that I wasn't the only idiot out there. Although I will confess that I was probably the only idiot out there by choice. By the time it got light, the rain had eased off to a drizzle and I took the opportunity to get an early start and pack up in the dry(ish). It didn't last long though and by the time I stopped to make a brew and grab a bite to eat an hour or so after setting off the rain was back with a vengeance. Once your wet your wet though, and you can't get any wetter, so you might as well make the most of it, and make the most of it I certainly did. Whilst cycling in the rain isn't the best experience ever, I had an enjoyable few hours plodding through the Hampshire countryside, alone, with just my thoughts and the gentle patter of rain dripping off my helmet and onto the end of my nose for company. As I stood in the kitchen, a couple of hours later, stripping off my wet clothes, my wet feet leaving footprints on the door mat “The Emma” greeted with with the normal welcome of “have you had a good time?” Having thought about it for a millisecond, there was only one answer “Yes I have”. Rain or not, it was good to be back out, and you really can't beat a Friday night mini adventure, for getting the weekend off to a good start! Having broken my duck Friday night, I thought the van deserved a go, a spot of tea at home and then the short trip up to one my favorite little spots, for a shake down night out and hopefully a bit of early morning running seemed like a sensible plan. Most of Saturday afternoon was spent sorting out a few last minute odd jobs; Sterilising the water system, refitting the newly painted wheels, finding the pillow cases, cleaning out the cool box and generally getting things back ship shape after the extended lay off and tidying up after the other jobs I've done over the past few weeks. By 20:00 I was parked up for the night, along with a couple of other like minded lunatics who'd beaten me there, safely ensconced, once again, in the vans loving embrace. Firing up the kettle in the van always evokes memories, there's something about the smell of the gas, the sound of the kettle rattling on the hob and then the whistle as it boils, that instantly transports me back to being a child on family caravanning holidays or camping with “The Boy”. I can't think of many other smells or sounds that hold such strong memories, but that one always gets me, and whilst not a pleasant evening weather wise, it was great to be back sat in the van, making new memories to the continuing sound of the kettle boiling. No TV or other distractions, just reminiscing and contemplating the world around me as the evening slowly turned to night and bed time came a calling. The weather God's must have felt sorry for me after Saturdays soaking, as I woke to the sun shining through the van windows, and the gentle sound of a full blown gale ripping across the roof, well we can't have everything can we, it is the weekend after all! Best make the most of it then before it starts raining, so a quick bit of breakfast and then out for a cheeky 16 mile jaunt around the footpaths and trails that I'm coming to know so well.
Having managed to leave my watch at home I've no idea how long I was out for, but I do know that it made a nice change to not be constantly checking the distance covered, distance to go and time. Maybe I should just leave my watch at home more often, its another bit of self imposed pressure, and removing that constant reminder of time was quite liberating. I never wear a watch the rest of the time so why do I need to wear one when I'm running? Maybe it's just to stoke my own ego and see how fast I am, or how far I've been? However long I was out for (and I'm guessing it was just over 2 hours) my earlier praise to the God of weather must have fallen on deaf ears, as it managed to throw it down just as I got back to the van, whilst still ensuring I was far enough away when it started to get wet for the second time in one weekend. See, I keep telling you that the weather does it intentionally, but no one ever believes me! And that was about it for another weekend, the afternoon being spent making Raspberry jam with the glut of Raspberries from the allotment and tidying the garage and workshop so I can get in them again, ready for the start of the next project. Not to worry though, now I've had a taste of adventure there's going to be no stopping me (unless it keeps on raining).
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Just to prove that I am normal and it's not all sweetness, roses and endless adventures, all's not rosy in the Perratt household. I've had one of those weeks, well more than one to be honest, where it all starts to get on top of you. I've been run ragged at work for the past couple of months, the weather seems to be in a cycle where it's lovely all week and then rubbish come the weekend and it's starting to get hard to stay motivated on the running and cycling front when there's still limited scope for adventures, no events and not much else to look forward too. When you get in late from work on a Friday night, having had a full week of 150 mile commutes and spent your days running round like your heads on fire. When it's rained constantly for the last 2 days and you spent the first part of the week sweating your tit's off in boiler houses whilst it was 25 degrees outside. When the traffics pretty much back to normal, the A34 is like a mad house and all you seem to be doing is sorting out other peoples problems, there is only one sure fire way to get it all back into perspective. And that's to put your running shoes on, get some quality tunes playing in your ears and escape into your own little world of peace, quiet and tranquility for a while. It's amazing the difference an hours run makes when your stressed and angry off the back of a hectic day and when you get back home for the second time and "The Emma's" got the kettle on the world seems a far nicer place to be. I honestly think sometimes that if I couldn't escape outdoors for a few hours now and then that I'd go nut's! Whilst I was under-sealing the van a couple of weeks back the state of the wheels caught my attention. Thick with brake dust, trims hanging off and starting to seriously corrode, I thought the time had come to do something about it. So, van precariously balanced on axle stands (I dreamt it had fallen off one night last week and actually had to go and check on my way to work, as I couldn't work out if it was a dream or not) the time had come to whip the wheels off and annoy the neighbours for an hour with the angle grinder and a wire wheel to get a better look at the situation. Whatever the outcome of the angle grinder session the result was going to have to be cheap, easy and hard wearing. I'm to tight to pay for anything expensive, too lazy to ever clean them again and as I hate car washing nearly as much as I hate painting they need to look after themselves. A Coat of Zinc rich Epoxy primer and a couple of coats of Goose Wing Grey Epoxy paint and what have we got? Apart from the annoyed neighbours, another ruined tea mug where I've got paint on it and a dirty leg, a pretty good result I think. Not a bad outcome for a couple of evenings work and a few quid on paint. Which, incidentally would have been a lot less if I'd only bought the amount I needed instead of enough to paint the Fourth Bridge. If you happen to know anyone that wants anything painting Goose Wing Grey I know where there's some going spare! I'll have to see how it holds up, but judging from the way the paint didn't chip when I hammered the balance weights back on it seems pretty tough. Only time will tell how well it lasts, but I'm happy enough and "The Emma" thinks it's a big improvement and she knows about stuff like that! In other news, the recent rain, whilst not doing my mood any good, has worked wonders for the Allotment. Although, on the downside, not only is the veg going great guns, but the weeds are too. The strawberries, Loganberries and Blackcurrents are cropping like there's no tomorrow and everything else is growing quick enough to satisfy "Jack" (of beanstalk fame). In fact I don't think I've ever had soft fruit crops like it, I'm guessing the combination of good weather during April and May, followed by the recent rain, coupled with the fact that the fat Pigeons are no longer getting their share is all lining up for a productive year. In Between a spot of easy running and making a mess with the paintbrush's I spent a couple of hours on Sunday afternoon turning more Strawberries into Jam and had a clear out of the store cupboard in an attempt to make more space ready for what's still to come. There are jars of Jam and chutney hidden away at the back of the shelves from 2011 which still look fine. So much for stock rotation, and I bet there's not many people who can say they've got vintage Jam laid down for a rainy day! Oh, and if I'm missing next week it's probably because I've eaten some 2011 vintage plum jam which I found in the back of the cupboard!
A couple of weeks back when I was having a rant about Mountain Bikers I mentioned that the highest point in Hampshire is Pilot Hill. Now, having done a bit more research, I've discovered that that's possibly a load of old rubbish and it might actually be Walbury Hill. Which, whilst being it's next door neighbor is apparently a Gnats Nadger higher, but might be in Berkshire, although that's open to debate as it seems to be down to county border changes. Whilst we are on the subject it's also allegedly the highest point in South East England, a claim to fame that I thought was held by Leith Hill, which, having run up it a couple of times I can confirm is definitely a big hill (don't let me down again Wikipedia). Having been proved wrong once I thought that I'd better go and have a look myself just to make sure, I'd hate to have to eat my words twice and apologise to all those Mountain Bikers if it does turn out to be a mountain. Although, having cycled up all the roads in the vicinity and having walked up it from both directions previously, I was pretty sure it's not a mountain. I'd hope that even with my dodgy memory I'd have remembered if it was, wouldn't I? Up with the lark on Saturday morning, or more accurately the Blackbird that starts singing it's heart out at about 05:30 most mornings. Something which I can forgive him for as I actually quite like laying in bed listening to him signing away. It's a far nicer way to start the day than the raucous shrill of the alarm clock, and as I keep saying, the mornings the best part of the day so the earlier I'm up the better! Anyhow, I digress again, which is probably why I never get anything done, see sidetracked again! If I was going up Walbury Hill I might as well kill two birds with one stone and tie it in with Junes Marathon a Month Madness. Handily It's dead on 13 miles from White Hill (Near Kingsclere) along the Wayfarers way to Walbury Hill, ideal for an out and back Socially Distanced Marathon then. On my way before the sensible people were up and about, I had the normally busy path from White Hill up to Watership down all to myself and quickly settled into a steady pace. Over the top of the first summit and enjoy the long slow drop down to the A34 crossing, I'd better make the most of it on the way out, as by the time I get back here I'll have 23 miles in my legs and this gentle downhill will feel like quite a climb! Under the now busy A34, Past the memorial stone marking the site of Jeffery De-Havilland's first flight and start climbing steadily upwards. There's plenty to distract you from the endless toil and its a good job too as there's still 9 miles to go until the 1/2 way point and it's pretty much all uphill. With expansive views towards Highclere Castle from the ridge line, Skylarks singing in the fields alongside the trail, Red Kites soaring overhead and the sunshine making the odd appearance through the gaps in the clouds it's a pleasure to be out. 11.5 miles in and past Pilot Hill, they're right though, this certainly isn't the highest point as I'm still running uphill, all be it a gradual uphill slog instead of the stupidly steep climb that marks the North side of this range of hills, but up hill none the less. Eventually, just under 2 hours since leaving White hill, Combe Gibbet and my destination hove into view. Just the short climb up to the Gibbet from the car park, where there are a few more walkers and cyclists milling around now. A quick lap around the Gibbet, pause for a few pictures, grab a sandwich from my backpack and back the way I came. All down hill on the way home then? I wish. Although after the long uphill to get there, going back was defiantly a lot easier and I was back at the van a few minutes under 4 hours after setting off. Not a bad way to spend Saturday morning then, 26.5 miles in 3:55 and the 6th marathon distance run for 2012. Oh, and whilst it was a bit of a slog getting up to my destination at Walbury Hill, its certainly not a mountain! After Saturdays efforts an easy day was called for on Sunday and I spent the day catching up on a few odd jobs, starting with making Strawberry jam. You know your doing OK in the world when your biggest problem is what to do with all your strawberries!
Here we go then, after all those months of digging, fruit cage building, seed sowing and watering the allotments finally starting to repay all that work, and I'll tell you something, there's nothing better that freshly picked, home grown produce. Having spent weeks watching them grow and slowly ripen the feeling when you pop the first Strawberry into your mouth straight from the plant makes all the graft worthwhile. You can keep your shop bought, perfectly shaped, uniformly ripe offerings, these bad boys are the real thing. They may be odd sizes, uneven colours, and funny shapes but they knock the socks off those tasteless shop bought attempts, they're just so sweet and tasty. And while we're on the subject of allotments and cooking, how about this little lot? Fingers crossed and as long as everything goes according to plan we will be pretty much self sufficient in vegetables from now until the end of the summer and beyond. I'm currently picking; Strawberries, Loganberries, Cherries (Not many and from the front garden orchard), Peas, Broad Beans, Rhubarb and Radishes. In the next few weeks we're going to be into; Gooseberries, Red and Black Currents (Not many due to cutting the bushes back hard to make space for the fruit cage), Courgettes, Cucumbers and Cabbages and from there on it will be more vegetables than you can shake a stick at! Talking of getting some miles in to burn off the cake calories, I was out early Saturday morning working on my appetite and came across this little fellow. It was accompanied by a sign saying "Hello, I'm Sally the Snake. Please add more pebbles to my body to see how long I can grow".
I don't know why, but I've been struggling a bit with the old motivation this week and when I got up on Sunday morning I just couldn't face the thought of going out to play on my bike. It was a beautiful morning though so staying at home was out of the question, maybe a bit of slower paced walking action would be the answer and help to get a bit of adventure back in my life? So, decision made, I stuck a brew in my flask, found some leftovers in the fridge for lunch and headed up to Kingsclere to pick up the Wayfarers Way. I could quite easily have started from home and done pretty much the same route but going out in the van for a change seemed to make it a bit more of an adventure. 99% of today's 16 miles was on paths that I run from home on a regular basis, however it's all a bit different when your walking instead of running. It's a bit easier to just stop and take in your surroundings and because your not constantly looking to see where your feet are going to avoid falling flat on your face, you see the little things that you don't get to see when running. With 16 miles of glorious Hampshire countryside under my feet, I got back to the van, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated just as it started spitting. It doesn't get much better than that and you know what, I'm looking forward to going out on my bike next weekend!
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Paul PerrattOld enough to know better, young enough to still feel invincible, stupid enough to keep on trying the same thing again and again. Cyclist, Gardener, Runner, Hiker, Cook, Woodworker, Engineer, Jack of all trades and master of none, Anti social old git and all round miserable bugger. Archives
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