Good morning, it's Saturday, here is the second day of my three day trip. Wednesday was a walking day, there are not many photo's as I try not to post lots of samey photo's, like, this is a hill, this is a lane, this is a clump of trees. There are always churches amongst them, as I love the tranquility of a church, and it's always a bonus if the door is unlocked and I can sit inside for a few minutes. Also, there are no two churches the same. I like to imagine what it was like hundreds of years ago when it was full of worshipers, what clothes they were wearing, how the service might have been. Wouldn't it be wonderful if the villagers got together and re enacted the scene, a bit like they do when they re enact the battles.
I set off from the hostel at 9.30am, and just down the road at Ruckland is this little church, tucked away down a track, the only indication of it being there was a notice board on the side of the road at the end of the track. St Olave's sits on high up with beautiful views all around. The information in Wikipedia says it was built in 1885 and holds a congregation of forty people. Ruckland is a very small village of only nine houses.
I took a track to the left and headed towards Worlaby. This scene was pure magic. It was a sunny morning, I had my shorts on, there was a slight breeze, and I was in heaven. I love the sight and smell of the oil seed rape fields. This is my idea of a fabulous walk.
Passing between the two ponds, there was hundreds of ducks, some basking in the sun, and other chattering away paddling about on the water.
Then I was back on the road again heading towards South Ormsby. A car pulled up alongside me, travelling in the same direction, it was the two ladies I was sharing a room with. They said, I don't suppose you want a lift. I said, no thanks, I'm just loving being out here.
I turned right at the cross roads and went to have a look at St Leonards church at South Ormsby. There was a short climb up to it via a path next to the old school house.
At this point I wanted to pick up a path across a field, but seeing a herd of brown cows with their calves, grazing right where I wanted to be, I decided to give it a miss and keep to the road. I am not normally bothered by cows, but they can be very inquisitive, and protective of their young, and can surround you within a couple of minutes. It seems sensible to take the safer option.
As I approached Calceby there was the ruins of a church on the hillside to my left. There was no good place to take a photo, and there wasn't much left of it anyway, just a single archway, so I didn't didn't bother to go exploring in the hedges to find a way through into the field. If you want to take a look at the ruins of St Andrew's you can click on the link, which will take you to Rod Collins web site. There is an information board in a lay by. Calceby is one of many desserted villages in Lincolnshire.
From Calceby it was paths across fields all the way to Alford. Just as I was coming into the town, I came across four ramblers sitting on a bench having their lunch. That's nice, I thought, I'll stop and have a natter. We spent about 20 minutes or so, having a jolly good laugh, I do seem to meet a lot of friendly folk.
What did I do in Alford? Not a lot really. I was mindfull that the time was getting on, and if I wanted to stop and look around I would be struggling to walk all the way back, and arrive back at a reasonable time for dinner. I went to the Tourist Information to ask about getting a bus, if not all the way, perhaps part the way back. No such luck, there were no buses. It was 3.30pm, only one thing for it but to set off back pretty sharpish. I chose a different way back, which was along mainly minor roads, I didn't have time to bimble about now, I needed to get a move on.
Out of Alford, I took the twisty road to Ailby, then round Swinn Wood to Aby, on to Belleau, and across Meagram Top, to Burwell. The sky started to darken as the clouds came over, there was a sudden downpour so on went the pacamac, and up went the brolly. I walked the last three miles in the rain. Up and down the hills, the roads became rivers, ha ha.
It was 7pm when I reached the hostel, the only thing that was wet was my feet, as I was wearing my old boots and they leak. As luck would have it, my dinner was ready and waiting for me, courtesey of my German hostelling friends. Almost 20 miles covered, and a perfect end to a perfect day.
Toodle pip.
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