Nearly two months ago I bought a clock which projects the
time on to the ceiling, and every time I looked at it I was trying to puzzle
out what it said because it was projecting at right angles to the way I was
looking at it. Last night before I went to kip I turned the thing through
ninety degrees so I could tell the time at a glance, and I slept much better…
until three o’clock when I popped to the loo and in doing so ceded my bed space
to an alliance of dogs who weren’t giving up their captured territory without a
fight.
Despite it being a Bank Holiday weekend we were up at six
o’clock, scoffing toast and peering into the Internet. It was rather dull; I
suppose everyone was still in bed? Mind you quite a few people had been posting
late last night and in to the small hours. One thing made me think – a friend
had commented that he’d been driving on autopilot and found himself wondering
exactly where he was on his journey home. I was reminded of a time back in the
day before night shifts when we would be called in to the hospital from home
when needed; often several times after midnight. After one such call I woke up
and found I was driving past the KFC at four o'clock in the morning. Emergency
stop... that woke me up.
I munzed and got Wordle on the fourth attempt. “Grift”
no? – I only got it as it was seemingly the only word that would fit. I looked
it up. It means engage in petty or small-scale swindling apparently. One lives
and learns.
As I Munzed and wordled so Morgan sneaked back upstairs to
bed. We had a rather early start this morning and in the same way that some
people aren’t “morning people”, Morgan isn’t a “morning dog”.
We got ourselves organized, and with dogs out of bed we
drove off at half past seven. We made good time and were in the car park at
Hindleap by nine o’clock. Karl and Tracey were already there, and it wasn’t
long before we were off on our walk. The weather forecast for the day was for
good weather, and after a miserable first hour (with a few rain showers)
the weather soon chirped up. A geo-friend had put out a series of fifty
geocaches and following them led us on a rather good guided walk. Footpaths and
quiet lanes, fields and woodlands. We met some friendly cows, and a puddle full
of tadpoles. We clambered under bridges and up trees. We crossed fords. We
crossed the Greenwich meridian, and went from hunting geocaches with “east”
in their co-ordinates to hunting ones with “west”.
At about the half-way point we found we were walking past a
pub. So we stopped walking and had a pint. Or two. And at about seven and a
half miles in we stopped and had a little picnic. And two more pints. It was at
this point when little Bailey fell asleep in the dog water bowl.
I sparked up my birdsong app a few times; I was amazed at
how disappointing the thing was. At most it only found four birds at once, and
nothing more adventurous than a robin.
Geocache-wise this was a rather good walk. We found all of
the caches in the series. There was one cache that was off to one side along a
little footpath. Out on its own, hid by someone who has never actually found a
geocache, my GPS felt the thing was ten yards the other side of a barbed wire
fence. That got the DNF.
But this is a series I could recommend to anyone starting
the honorable and ancient art of hunting film pots under rocks. Loads of caches,
all easy finds along a well-marked route.
I
took a few photos as we walked.
After eleven and a half miles we were back at the car. We
said our goodbyes and headed homewards. I slept much of the way. I’ve walked
more, but not for a long time. And I think that twenty-six thousand steps is my
highest that I’ve ever recorded. It is certainly the longest walk that Morgan
and Bailey have done.
The dogs seemed shattered, but they rallied enough to do
the “Feed the Fish” ritual once we were home. It was rather late by the
time we got home so we had a kebab for tea.
I’ve got to go to work tomorrow…
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