Ridgeway Trip XI: The Day We Thought Would Never End

We had a delicious breakfast of fruit and yogurt compote, the fruit being from the farm. (In fact we often had home fruit, elderflower cordial, or even beef!) Plus the full English, and happily I remembered to ask for my egg to be fully cooked, so it was yummy. Alan took us back to the Lions of Bledlow to get started, but first he took us by a Marks and Spencer food ....place...near the trail, so we would know how to get there to pick up some lunch. It was kind of funny to hike for miles to get close to where we spent the night. Anyway, we went back up the rutted chalk track to the Ridgeway halfway up the steep hill we'd mounted the day before.

Pretty soon, though, we were marching through fields -- first a large one filled with sheep (and sheep droppings), and then two of dead grass or crop. This was where we met the first of 40 or so runners in the Ridgeway Relay -- we kept jumping aside to get out of their way. The relay started about 7:30 am and a member of each team would run a section of about 10 miles. They'd started at the Beacon at the east end and would finish by the end of day. I think this is a lunatic thing to do, given how rough and tricky the trail is!

Fields of poppies (among other things)

Through a field full of sheep!

I don't know what used to be here but it was impressively dead

The next bit was extremely narrow and overgrown (nettles!), and luckily there were no runners because there was nowhere to go. Then up and down some quite steep terrain, especially the down. The whole day was extremely up-and-down and it was very tiring! After crossing another golf course, this time through hedgerows instead of right on the green, we came to a railway track with a guy who was working the race and keeping tabs on safety. We stopped and chatted with him for a bit, asking questions about the race and what he did in it. Then across a large field and up a hill, which turned out to actually be the top of a railway tunnel, just one that features a lot of nature.

This growth was pretty but pokey, as it
had nettles, blackberry vines, and dog roses

Top of a steep hill that was hard on the runners

Field of daisies just before the railway, which is in the trees

Standing on top of a tunnel; the gully is the railway

After some more fields, we started to get to Princes Risborough, a real town. We had to walk on a street and then on a busy road, which was no fun. Then we turned right into a track that went behind a school and some playing fields, and which never seemed to end. When it finally did end, we popped out near the M&S and made our way to the store, which was sort of an upscale grocery store but almost entirely with its own brand of food (to Kim's horror, not even Cadbury's chocolate!). Like Trader Joe's maybe. It was very crowded, being Sunday -- everyone was out doing their shopping. We picked up grapes, cheese-and-onion rolls, and a few other things, and we decided that since the next thing on the trail was a steep hill with benches and a view at the top, we'd go up there and eat lunch. When we left, we spotted "the Pudding Stone," an ancient waystone marker.

The Pudding Stone!

That -- Whiteleaf Hill -- was the longest, steepest hill of my life. It got so steep that it switched to stairs, and had resting benches every so often. There were something like 4 sets of stairs, and then more hill, but the view at the top was indeed spectacular, and the benches were good for eating lunch on.

Looking down the stairs

Panorama view! Click to see it better

Trees at the top of the hill

At the top of the hill is some nice woodland that made for pleasant, though often muddy, walking. There was a barrow, and another hilltop view, and then some difficulty downward going through (sadly) a lot of dying ash trees. We saw several signs about ash dieback, a fungal disease that is ravaging the ashes of Europe.

At the bottom of the hill is The Plough, a nice little pub where we stopped for a drink. This pub is close to Chequers, the Prime Minister's country estate, and so when he has important diplomacy guests and wants to bring them for a pint, this is where they come.

The Plough

So the next thing to do was to go by Chequers. Over another hill covered with wildflowers, and up some woodland, we eventually got to the edge of the estate. You just open the gate and go in, and cross the land, but of course it's surveilled and there are lots of signs about how you'd better not go off the footpath if you don't want to be arrested. We didn't. Through some woods, then a wheat field, then we came to the driveway and gate house, and crossed right over. Another field and a small house, and we were done with Chequers. But there were still 3 miles to go, and they were steep miles!

The manor house seen from across the field

Crossing the driveway!

We toiled up and up a wooded hill, and got a bit lost, and there was a lot of mud, but eventually we came out on a hillside with a spectacular view and a lot of cows. We walked along that and turned a corner, and there was another hillside with even more view -- seriously, you could see about 75% of the landscape around -- this time with a memorial to the Boer war stuck onto it, and lots of people enjoying the beautiful day. The memorial was fairly Goreyesque, with blank stone balls and a tower and little apparent reason for existing, until you got to the part facing the valley, which features a big metal flag arrangement and the inscription.

Spectacular views across cows

By this time we were tired and didn't take a lot of photos...

Here we had to avoid the gravel path and head down a nearly-invisible footpath further to the side to get down the hill, which also took forever. We were moving pretty slowly by then -- had been for hours. It was nearly 6pm, the latest we have stayed out. And we could see a giant building site before we got to Wendover, but we knew about that (it's an expansion of the railway) and that there should be a detour. But getting there at 6pm on a Sunday -- it was just a dead end. No signs, no help, just 'no footpath.' We declared defeat, called our hostess for a rescue (we were about 500 feet from our pickup spot, but it was impossible to get there without levitating), and went home for a Sunday roast dinner and the most fabulous dessert, called lemon possett.