Saturday the 21st. of October saw me venture out on a 3 day Odyssey with number 1 son, David.
A journey of discovery and sheep.
And photographs.
Hundreds of photographs.
It all started when he innocently asked if we could go ‘backpacking’.
Excellent, I thought, my son's following in his ol’ man's footsteps!
I didn't want to put him off for life, and I didn't want to kill me (I hadn't done any backpacking for about 15 years) so I thought maybe a few days down the Ridgeway wouldn't be so bad, with David carrying his clothes and muggins carrying everything else!
It has a few good views (of Didcot power station if I recall) and not much climbing once your on the ridge.
A web search turned up a short string of campsites around Wantage, strangely where I last went backpacking with Jackie, 15 years ago.
The trip was to take place at half term and as the week approached I eagerly drew up lists of gear and agonised over the relative weights of everything, made sure David had the right clothing with the help of Jackie, and tried to find good backpacking food. Jackie turned up trumps here - gormet 'instant stews' and powdered mash from Costco.
These, along with pots of sponge puddings and several dozen cereal bars was to be our diet.
I also packed a prototype head torch that I had made, to see how it would fare.
First day
The day saw us leave for Wantage via Oxford with a large 24 kg load for me (those gourmet dinners weren't dehydrated and suddenly didn't seem the perfect choice) and a 7 kg (including five books to read as part of a read-a-thon) load for David. Also my trusty 25 year old Millets two-man ridge tent (4.5 kg!)
 |
| 24kg? No problem |
I left the directions indoors (I couldn't retrieve them because that morning Jackie decided to launch her keys down the drain at the bus stop, and she had already left for the day with my set), so it was with some relief and surprise that I remembered the way to Wantage from the cursory glance they received that morning.
While driving through the Chilterns, before breaking through the great escarpment just after Stokenchurch, I was amazed to count a dozen or more red kites hunting over the farmland!
First night
Andersly Farm, just outside Grove.
The pleasant chap who ran the place, a kennels and cattery, (who magically appeared at the door every time I came near the house) agreed to rent me a pitch for the car while David and I were on our walk. (£5 a night = £20)
Pitching the tent in a boggy field was fun, as was my attempt at 'one-pot-bangers-and-mash'. Or rather 'hot-instant-mash-and-slightly-warm-frankfurters'.
 |
| Dinner... nice |
Not quite Cordon Bleu, more like 'Gordon Bennett'. It was still edible, and we ate until David
couldn't stomach any more and I was seriously stuffed.
At least the puddings went down well. Tried the soups, David wasn't impressed. Liked the Horlicks
though.
David read a little.
A nice crystal clear night showed us millions of stars. We even made out the Milky Way and David was amazed at the amount of stars you can see in the country compared to town.
Second day
Woke up to an overcast day, made oatsosimple (so simple that I forgot to add the milk powder)
David had my pudding from last night (I wish he would eat more - I'm not looking forward to carrying 24kg)
We packed up, I dished out a few cereal bars for lunch, filled up our water bottles and were off.
Didn't see anyone to wave goodbye to so started walking. A pleasant if rather long stroll, although with ever increasing views across Oxfordshire, until we reached the village of Ardington, where we
stopped for a snack and a photo.
Very pleasant.
On the way out we found bits of a millennium sundial erected through out a wood, made out of Sarson stones with a mirror finish plaque on them.
Met the B4494 where it crosses the Ridgeway, and looked at the view. We had left rather late and by now it was gone 1:00. Still, it was only 2.5km to our destination at The Ridgeway centre, where we had booked a meal.
By the time we got there through the rain had set in and a stiff wind was blowing.(4:30)
By this time we had walked 10.5 km and we were glad to see the coffee shop was open, where David demolished a chocolate cake and discovered he like black tea.
Sat around and waited for 5:00 when we could sign in. Lots of horses and chickens.
Check in produced a bit of a shock - I was told over the phone that a pitch was £7.50 + the evening meal, which I guessed would be £5 - £10 each. The actual costs were £38.70 - because the prices quoted were each, and exclusive of VAT! Oh and because by this time I had looked at the worsening weather and couldn't resist the offer of a cooked full English breakfast.
2 x campers £7.50 each (EACH!)
2 x Breakfast £3.95 each
2 x Adult evening meal £7.90 each
VAT £3.53 (V.A.T?!)
==========
£38.70
Put up the tent blimmin' quick, before it got washed away.
The nice lady in the hostel fixed David’s sumglasses.
The hostel was very quiet until later on that evening when it filled up with marathon runners (in this
weather?), French students and assorted others. The warden said he was 80% full.
My meal was a weird vegetarian pie with veg and potatoes and David had a home made shepherd's pie. Pudding was a slice of Bakewell pie with custard, washed down with a mug of tea.
We relaxed in the hostel, reading up on the The Ridgeway history and David read some books, until we were thrown out at 11:00.
Poor Alex.
Packed up, dished out lunch and off.
Our first point of interest was Segsbury Fort, a huge hillfort about half a kilometre in diameter.
David spent along time there, taking lots of pictures. He wanted to walk the perimeter (remember my
pack still weighed in excess of 20kg!)
We rested in the centre and had a snack, and I waited for some walkers who did walk the periphery, curse them, to orbit out of sight so I could do a wee.
At this time Jackie phoned, sounded even more ragged and promptly detonated when I told her about the slight miscalculation over the YHA bill. Poor Alex. The conversation steered towards us coming home a day early because I'd spent my budget for the week in one night, and Jackie was seriously beginning to fray at the edges and she had begun to run out of dishes, or food, or hair, or something. Poor Alex.
The rain had long stopped but a mist shrouded the view so we set off with heavy hearts to
rejoin the Ridgeway. Just as we did, I had to sort out a patch on my left heel that threatened to turn into a blister. We had been using walking sticks, David with my trusty Pennine Way rellic and me with 'A bit of holly whot I found on Harrow Weald Common'. Seemed to work, in fact when I lost the holly stick on the last day I was surprised how much difference it made..
All morning I had been nursing a growing worry that I would have to perform an emergency poo. This reached its climactic finale on Childrey Warren, when we stopped to have lunch and to admire the Devil's Punchbowl.
You wouldn't believe how busy the Ridgeway is, with a seemingly endless string of dog walkers, couples pushing poor helpless babes in all terrain buggies, farmers in all sorts of vehicles.
This fact coupled with a decidedly large absence of cover was rather unsettling, especially when one has a bowel full of bubbling vitriol.
A decision had to be made. Sod it. after waiting for a gap between the crowds, a dash was made for the only cover - a hawthorn tree. After sliding under the barbed wire, humming under my breath the theme to 'The Great Escape', I picked a place where I couldn't be seen from the track, and halfway through the act, my attention was caught by a car full of bored looking farmers driving across the field in front of me, less than 50 yards away.
David laughed. I didn't care, I felt so much better.
After taking what seemed like hours to walk past the Devil's Punchbowl we were less than 3 km from our destination, and the weather had cleared up somewhat. By this time David's shoulders had begun to ache, to keep his feet company, and I was encouraging him on saying 'not far now!' when we met a local, a Mr. Richard Radcliff, who proceeded to convince us, because he had lived hear all his life, that we were miles from anywhere. I thought we only had just over a kilometre to go. It got me worried enough to phone up Down Barn Farm, our destination, to check. When I found the name of our host, Mrs. Reid, Mr.Radcliff said 'Oh, you mean Penny. Of course. I'd forgotten about her. Yes, you need to just go down here...'
Blimmin' locals.
More delays: Just after Jackie phoned to warn us about an imminent downturn in the weather, so we'd
best get a move on, we met two girls who were walking the whole length 'B & B'-ing (11 t0 17 miles a day!) and a guy who was wild camping with a pack not much bigger that a bumbag! It certainly didn't look like it weighed 24kg!
Down barn Farm proved to have an intersting campsite - basically a cowfield that the cows weren't using at the time. Apart from the 30° slope and the odd (very odd) cowpat, it was perfect.
After the downpour at the YH and Jackies weather warning, I decided to try the tarp I had bought along in case we needed a porch. Indeed it had just started raining so I quickly put up the tent while David, bless him, busied himself with photographing cows.
The rain stopped as I finished the tent. (sigh).
Saw a buzzard.
I still put up the tarp, using the simple logic that if I didn't put it up the rain would return with a vengeance. I was quite proud of the result. I'd pitched the tent in the corner of the field so I was
able to tie two sides of the tarp to the fence, a third side was supported by the tent and a walkng stick which left the remaining side as an entrance big enough for David to stumble through and snap a guy line. Perfect.
That night's fare was chilli con carne with instant mash. Fantastic. Tried more soups, David still not impressed.
It was quite pleasant under the tarp, kept the rain off
nicely.
Check in produced a bit of a shock - I was told over the phone that a pitch was £7.50 + the evening meal, which I guessed would be £5 - £10 each. The actual costs were £38.70 - because the prices quoted were each, and exclusive of VAT! Oh and because by this time I had looked at the worsening weather and couldn't resist the offer of a cooked full English breakfast.
2 x campers £7.50 each (EACH!)
2 x Breakfast £3.95 each
2 x Adult evening meal £7.90 each
VAT £3.53 (V.A.T?!)
==========
£38.70
Put up the tent blimmin' quick, before it got washed away.
The nice lady in the hostel fixed David’s sumglasses.
The hostel was very quiet until later on that evening when it filled up with marathon runners (in this
weather?), French students and assorted others. The warden said he was 80% full.
We relaxed in the hostel, reading up on the The Ridgeway history and David read some books, until we were thrown out at 11:00.
Second night
This is the night David wanted a wee and used my water bottle because it was raining so much. (funny, from then on he didn't want to share water bottles...) Slept like a log.Second day
We actually woke up in time for breakfast! This was well worth the investment, despite the crunchy bacon, although Jackie would not agree. Every time I phoned her up she seemed a little more ragged.Poor Alex.
Packed up, dished out lunch and off.
Our first point of interest was Segsbury Fort, a huge hillfort about half a kilometre in diameter.
David spent along time there, taking lots of pictures. He wanted to walk the perimeter (remember my
pack still weighed in excess of 20kg!)
We rested in the centre and had a snack, and I waited for some walkers who did walk the periphery, curse them, to orbit out of sight so I could do a wee.
At this time Jackie phoned, sounded even more ragged and promptly detonated when I told her about the slight miscalculation over the YHA bill. Poor Alex. The conversation steered towards us coming home a day early because I'd spent my budget for the week in one night, and Jackie was seriously beginning to fray at the edges and she had begun to run out of dishes, or food, or hair, or something. Poor Alex.
The rain had long stopped but a mist shrouded the view so we set off with heavy hearts to
rejoin the Ridgeway. Just as we did, I had to sort out a patch on my left heel that threatened to turn into a blister. We had been using walking sticks, David with my trusty Pennine Way rellic and me with 'A bit of holly whot I found on Harrow Weald Common'. Seemed to work, in fact when I lost the holly stick on the last day I was surprised how much difference it made..
All morning I had been nursing a growing worry that I would have to perform an emergency poo. This reached its climactic finale on Childrey Warren, when we stopped to have lunch and to admire the Devil's Punchbowl.
You wouldn't believe how busy the Ridgeway is, with a seemingly endless string of dog walkers, couples pushing poor helpless babes in all terrain buggies, farmers in all sorts of vehicles.
This fact coupled with a decidedly large absence of cover was rather unsettling, especially when one has a bowel full of bubbling vitriol.
A decision had to be made. Sod it. after waiting for a gap between the crowds, a dash was made for the only cover - a hawthorn tree. After sliding under the barbed wire, humming under my breath the theme to 'The Great Escape', I picked a place where I couldn't be seen from the track, and halfway through the act, my attention was caught by a car full of bored looking farmers driving across the field in front of me, less than 50 yards away.
David laughed. I didn't care, I felt so much better.
After taking what seemed like hours to walk past the Devil's Punchbowl we were less than 3 km from our destination, and the weather had cleared up somewhat. By this time David's shoulders had begun to ache, to keep his feet company, and I was encouraging him on saying 'not far now!' when we met a local, a Mr. Richard Radcliff, who proceeded to convince us, because he had lived hear all his life, that we were miles from anywhere. I thought we only had just over a kilometre to go. It got me worried enough to phone up Down Barn Farm, our destination, to check. When I found the name of our host, Mrs. Reid, Mr.Radcliff said 'Oh, you mean Penny. Of course. I'd forgotten about her. Yes, you need to just go down here...'
Blimmin' locals.
More delays: Just after Jackie phoned to warn us about an imminent downturn in the weather, so we'd
best get a move on, we met two girls who were walking the whole length 'B & B'-ing (11 t0 17 miles a day!) and a guy who was wild camping with a pack not much bigger that a bumbag! It certainly didn't look like it weighed 24kg!
Down barn Farm proved to have an intersting campsite - basically a cowfield that the cows weren't using at the time. Apart from the 30° slope and the odd (very odd) cowpat, it was perfect.
After the downpour at the YH and Jackies weather warning, I decided to try the tarp I had bought along in case we needed a porch. Indeed it had just started raining so I quickly put up the tent while David, bless him, busied himself with photographing cows.
The rain stopped as I finished the tent. (sigh).
I still put up the tarp, using the simple logic that if I didn't put it up the rain would return with a vengeance. I was quite proud of the result. I'd pitched the tent in the corner of the field so I was
able to tie two sides of the tarp to the fence, a third side was supported by the tent and a walkng stick which left the remaining side as an entrance big enough for David to stumble through and snap a guy line. Perfect.
That night's fare was chilli con carne with instant mash. Fantastic. Tried more soups, David still not impressed.
It was quite pleasant under the tarp, kept the rain off
nicely.
Continued...
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