Flooding in a field just outside Kempsford |
Left the Mr at
the bend in the road and I carried on over the river towards Castle Eaton until
I got to a footpath. I’ve always liked the look of the footpath on the right
just before the bridge. It always looks a bit hidden and interesting and I’ve
never driven past it without wondering where it went.
Interesting looking footpath |
Yep. That's a ball in the middle of the water. |
Came out the
other side of the village and turned left onto a small lane leading to the
Thames Path. It was a small, narrow road bordered by trees with vivid orange
leaves. The leaves were in a carpet across the road, so I’d be able to hear my
footsteps one moment and not the next. Ahead of me as I came round a corner was
a family dressed warmly in their Autumn coats and gloves. With the 2 kids and
dog and the leaves underfoot and the sun shining through the trees they looked
like a picture of a family in a clothing catalogue. All rosy cheeks and cheery
smiles. And here was me spoiling it all by puffing and panting round the corner
in my running gear sounding like a prank caller with a love of lycra.
Gorgeous lane to run through! |
Suddenly, I was
out from under the trees and onto a quiet road. I was running alone enjoying
the silence and suddenly out from the hedgerow in front of me came a large fox.
More brown than red. He paused when he saw me to consider whether I was a
threat, then he quickly moved across the road and into the field. There was no
sign of him in the field when I came level to the gateway.
Up to a signpost
which pointed me past a house up into their garden and onto a grassy farm track.
The grass was sodden from the rain last night and the track was wet underfoot. I
followed it through the field, hopping from tyre-rut to tyre-rut to try to keep
my feet dry. Passed a couple walking a black and white Springer Spaniel who was
full of Springer enthusiasm and wanted to run with me.
Past a gate which
led into a copse of trees with bright red berries onto the river bank.
Tempting, but a path for another time ...
I came to a
junction in the track. Onwards through a gap in the hedge or following the tyre
ruts round to the right and where I could see houses in the distance? There
wasn’t a signpost or marker to show either way. The river would stay on my left
if I carried on through the gap in the hedge and as I was following the Thames
Path, I decided it would make sense to stay with the river.
A gate at the end
and out on a narrow road by a bridge. I looked to my left and saw the village
in the distance. I was only about a mile down the road from my starting point. I’d
definitely taken the long – and interesting – route today. I ran away from the
village, down the quiet road, keeping in to the right, out of the way of mad
Sunday drivers on a mission towards their Sunday roasts.
These might take some cleaning ... |
Haven't you heard of mud runs? |
Wade, squelch, splat ... |
Finally, after
about half a mile of wading, I got onto grass tracks again. The fields either
side of the tracks were flooded with standing water, but the centre was raised
slightly higher so I could run.
Nice dry path ... |
Until...
That would be the footpath sign on the left then ... |
The path must
have dipped slightly as it entered a gap in the hedge and the whole pathway was
completely flooded. There wasn't even a way to hold onto the hedge and edge my
way round on the bank. I walked up my side of the field looking for a gap in
the hedgerow but nothing except solid bushes and thorns. Retraced my steps on
the grass track in the centre of the field and managed a jump across to the
other side of the pathway but the water seemed even deeper on this side. I again
walked the side of the field but even if I’d got through the hedge, there was a
flooded ditch barring my way. I got back to the track again and tested its
depth with a stick. It was deep. However there was probably only about 25ft of
the path underwater.
I took a deep breath. And a run up. Jumped. And sank. I floundered around and dragged myself onto the bank again.
There was nothing
else for it. I turned around.
I may be wet.
Very wet. But at least the trainers were free of mud now.
SPLAT!
Fell over in the
mud. Mud everywhere. Oh well. At least my top doesn't have mud on it. Oh. It
does? Sent a text to The Mr saying I was on my way home. And telling him I may
need to use the garden hose. On myself.
Saw a couple of
hikers on their way through and warned them that the Thames Path was flooded.
Had a nice chat but the hikers reckoned they could make it through. Their
little ankle walking boots and fluorescent gloves must endow them with watery super
powers that mere runners don’t possess.
Dragged myself
home with squelchy sound effects and leaving a trail of wet footprints. The
three year-old greeted me at the door and looked me up and down.
“Fell in mud AGAIN,
mummy?”
Sounds like a great run to me :-)
ReplyDelete...and kids are great, aren't they?!
It was good fun ... but think it might be time to invest in some new trainers ! :) (Any excuse!) I don't know what it is with 3 year olds but they manage to be so patronising - it's hilarious! (If she could have clicked her tongue at me I think she would have) :)
DeleteFab Post Sarah, don't you just love MUD!!!!!
ReplyDeleteI think mud loves ME, Paul! It seems to follow me wherever I go!! :)
Delete