Today's walk was a pretty impressive (for me, anyway!) fifteen-miler starting from Maltby and going through the villages of Hooton Levitt, Carr, Brookhouse, Laughton-en-le-Morthen, Letwell, Firbeck, Stone, past Roche Abbey and back to Maltby. Phew! We've attempted this walk before, but only made it as far as Carr before getting lost. This time we went back and attacked it with a vengeance.
As with the majority of the walks Sybil and I do, today was not without its drama. First off, Sybil was sick on the bus to Maltby. Luckily I had some large wipes in my bag so I cleaned it up before we got off. I was slightly concerned as she's been on hundreds of buses and never had a problem, but she was her normal self for the whole of the walk so I guess it was just a minor blip.
 |
| Like I say, normal self. Sybil mid-pounce. |
We made it through Hooton Levitt in record time, having walked this way before. When we reached Carr, we followed the road round to the left instead and soon found the correct footpath. How anyone can get lost in a village with only two streets is beyond me, but somehow I managed to last time.
 |
| Trying to look all innocent once we have passed |
Last time we had an encounter with two demon horses that trotted over as soon as they saw us, nipped me on the arm and pranced around a very nervous-looking Sybil. The two horses in this field also trotted over, so I was a bit wary. It seems they were just overly-friendly and followed us for the length of the field, with Sybil pulling harder and harder on her lead to get out. I ended up picking her up as I didn't want any accidents, which resulted in most of the wet mud in her fur getting wiped onto my jacket and trousers. Oh well. A clean walker never had any fun.
 |
| Wood anemones |
 |
| Wood anemones |
We were then instructed to take a path through a wood to the bottom corner. The wood has a fantastic carpet of wood anemones, with bluebells just starting to come through. We followed the path, then we started to run out of trees. I knew we had gone wrong as I couldn't find the stile, or even the field for that matter, that we were supposed to cross down towards Thurcroft riding stables. I spotted a road in the distance and we headed towards it, where I found out we had come out next to Thurcroft. Suspecting that the church tower I could see to the distant left was one of the villages we were supposed to be visiting, we turned that way and started down the country lane. I figured all roads lead to Brookhouse (or this one, at least) and I was relieved when I spotted the attractive village sign.
 |
| Back on track |
 |
| A river (or stream) runs through it |
It wasn't long before we arrived at Laughton-en-le-Morthen, where we followed several footpaths through oilseed rape fields. Crossing over a stone stile we found ourselves next to a garden where two dogs began barking at us, making Sybil feel she had to bark back. We were both then taken by surprise when the little Jack Russell hopped over the wall and was suddenly nose-to-nose with Sybil. Thankfully I think Sybil was too shocked to remember she usually tries to eat dogs when she's on-lead and just stood there meekly wagging her tail.
 |
| Fields of gold |
Confusion arrived whilst I was trying to find the St. Leger pub. The footpaths had criss-crossed a bit and I wasn't entirely sure I was on the right one, so decided to use the next pub in the directions as a navigational aide. After traipsing up and down several streets once back in Laughton, I was no wiser as to where the pub was and could only find one named the Hatfeild Arms (no, I haven't misspelled it). As there was no audience to ask, I decided to phone a friend and with the help of online maps the two of us worked out that the pub I was looking for had recently been converted into a house. Finally I knew where we were and just as curtains started to twitch as people wondered why a young woman and her dog were walking back and forth for no apparent reason, we quickly moved on.
Slightly frustrated by this point about the time wasted, I decided to use the shortcut given as an option, only to find that the path didn't exist anymore. We had no choice but to continue on to Letwell and after initial uncertainty about which footpath to take we started to enjoy the walk again, as the path unwound between more pleasingly yellow oilseed rape fields. One of the reasons I like to do my "big" walks on weekdays is that you don't tend to see as many people (I'm rather unsociable you see) and this was the case today as we had miles of footpaths to ourselves. We sat on a bench (yes, Sybil too) and had a well-earned sandwich each while watching a buzzard soar nearby.
 |
| I love Spring |
Soon we arrived at picturesque Letwell and, after making our way through more rape fields, eventually to Firbeck. I did have to wonder what the people in these posh-looking and well-kept villages made of me walking through with my tangled, windswept hair and muddy trousers. Most people seem perfectly able to go on a walk with their dog and look as clean afterwards as if they've merely visited a shopping centre, whereas mud appears to fling itself at me from all different directions, clinging to me and making me look as if I've swam in a bog.
 |
| A Stone house (geddit?) |
We headed across more fields, wheat this time, in the general direction of the tiny village of Stone. There was a little more confusion as the footpath I was trying to follow was through the middle of a field being planted with potatoes by two tractors. I managed to find a way round and we soon found ourselves at Roche Abbey.
 |
| Stalking Roche Abbey |
It wasn't far back to Maltby at all now, and we made our way alongside a stream in a wood carpeted with wild garlic, wood anemones, bluebells and other plant species I didn't know the names of. Even though the wild garlic wasn't yet in flower, there was so much of it I could already catch its scent.
 |
| Wild garlic |
Then it was back on the bus home, where we got the by now expected chorus of "oh, isn't she well-behaved?" Hmm, no not really, she's just tired.
