All in Travel
And how we laughed when she told us in a slightly amused way that Vindolanda was actually a Roman fort and was not on the wall at all. She very kindly shared with us the name of a car park not far away where we would be able to see the wall but no, there was no wall where we were.
I choose to believe in empty roads and quiet, weekday escapes and low-key delicious adventures.
We found ourselves flagging just a little at this stage and took the very sensible step of chatting to the owner of a boat, moored at Berney Arms for some fishing, and begging a top up of our water bottles.
We took our time looking at some beautiful large properties along this path (how can people afford such wonderful homes?) and found our first delightfully empty country lane.
These lanes were very quiet and enjoyable to walk along in the pleasant sunshine. We grabbed a couple of pears from a box in front of a cottage, left out for travelers, and ended up scrumping from an apple tree hanging over the road.
However our well practiced looks of confusion managed to attract the attention of a very friendly woman who walked the first 10 minutes or so with us.
It’s like a vast, seemingly never-ending, area of scrubland. Rough, mostly flat, with some areas of nothingness and little vegetation. Other parts are full of thick undergrowth and trees, so dense that you just cannot see what, if anything, is lurking just a few metres away from the track.
“The absolutely incredible night sky in the desert. I had been warned that I would not believe what I saw and this was completely true.. The sky was just FULL of light.”
How satisfying to sometimes take a step back from life.
Even if just for a moment
I didn't want to push things too much. I was reminded that only a few months before I was using a walking stick and could barely get out of the house.
There is peace and solitude in wildness. Skies, grey and inpenetrable, and wind fierce enough to leave even the strongest of us staggering for a moment.
We visited somewhere rather wonderful just the other day. Somewhere spectacular and beautiful, a place that we both loved.
A place that I decided to write a few words about here.
But also a place that I do not want to share.
Walking along quiet lanes, tractors and farm machinery working in the summer-dry fields as drifting clouds of dust take to the air, little storms of rural activity and a visible soundtrack to our amble.
Take a turn off the quiet country road linking Sherborne and Dorchester and park up in the isolated, and free, car park. Take a stroll past the ancient Kettle Bridge (very old) and walk along the bank of the Cerne River (very beautiful) and you will soon find yourself in the centre of the village.
So we walked and talked today.
We discussed how we are told that so many things in our world have importance when most are actually of little value.
And as much as I love people, and I do, I really do, I also need to be away from them to allow myself time to think and just be me.
The grounds were sobering and had a power about them that, like the Holocaust Memorial in Berlin, is difficult to describe. We didn’t see everything. The weather was really not very good. But we saw plenty and it was enough.
The endless possibilities and the thoughts of adventure and of actually having the time, yes, the time, to sit back and take a moment or two to contemplate the journey as it unfolds rather than to just think about the destination.
Sometimes you find a place that grabs you, surprises you even. A place that makes you look around and think to yourself, well, I'm not really sure what I expected, but I certainly didn't expect this.
