"There are holes in the sky where the rain gets in, but they're ever so small that's why rain is thin."
I was reminded of these profound and much-loved words as we set off from Castle Acre on a rather overcast Monday morning. The challenges ahead were threefold:
1. Maintaining motivation and interest on what was essentially a die-straight 15 mile route
2. Finding somewhere to buy lunch
3. Accepting that at some stage the horrible, latex-lined waterproof trousers might have to make an appearance.
It has to be said that the route was not looking very promising for either 1 or 2 and the forecast equally dodgy where 3 was concerned.
Here's our route (note absence of villages or indeed any real civilisation along the way!) - see what I mean about straight?
The guide book was furthermore keen to underline the lack of any facilities insisting that the only sensible thing to do was to ensure provisions were on board before setting off for the coming stretch. Reassuringly (?) there was a Costcutter general store indicated en route out of the village. The fact that I ended up with a distinctly unappealing tuna on white and HRH had to resort to a cheese pasty says it all, so I was reassured when he also bagged a twin Snickers - until he met my excited grin with a "for when you get tired and grumpy later", stashing it promptly out of temptation's way in his backpack! Charming!*
Spike Millican was undoubtedly a genius and I always loved his verse but he never quite came up with a word for that thinnest of thin rain, did he? Its more like wet air, but whatever you call it, sadly it was either waterproofs on against the insidious dampness or risk a very uncomfortable, long day and potentially soggy shorts, so on they went.
As it turned out the route proved less of a concern than was feared. The fields of barley and potatoes gave way to broad beans, wheat and uncultivated meadow the further north we travelled. Clearly the increasingly sandy soil is better suited to different agricultural choices and make for a more rolling countryside so, despite the lack of a need to navigiate, the walking was actually very pleasant indeed, especially once the sun came out after lunch.
We also became more aware of the emerging flint underfoot. Flint is typical of the geological heritage of the area which, much like the South Downs and Sussex, consists largely of a bedrock of chalk covered by thin deposits of sand and said flint. In prehistoric times it assured the development of the area by early man and even today features heavily in local construction. HRH particularly likes this house style. I asked him what it was about the look that he liked so much.
"Errrm, just the flintiness"
"The flintiness?" What about it exactly?"
"I don't know. The randomness I suppose"
"How do you mean, the randomness"
"Not sure. I just like it"
He's from Hampshire. There must be something in the water.
The only other highlights of the day were ... completely missing the fourth Songline, despite the guidebook describing it as 'striking' (I've subsequently looked it up on t'interweb - it's not), our first glimpse of a traditional windmill, far on the horizon.......
.... and the luxury that awaited us in the form of Magazine Wood. Unfortunately I lied earlier, unwittingly. Sorry folks. Amanda Holden used to own the cottage next door - our host admitted as she drove us to the pub that her welcome pack needs updating. Ms Holden now lives in The Cotswolds!
Tomorrow is The Big One - 19.5 miles. TTFN x
* I almost didn't get that Snickers either. I forgot to get tired and grumpy (must be walking myself fitter) ... But we shared it anyway, as a reward for completing our very straightforward day :-)
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