The opportunity presented itself to visit Rutland. You know me by now, someone mentions a county and my brain's in overdrive, can we nail a high spot?
Well of course we could and Rutland is so small we'll get Leicestershire in too.
Evening journey up to Rutland after work, unfortunately there are some new roads that don't match those on the SatNav so it made for an interesting drive east.
We stayed at the www.wisteriahotel.co.uk in Oakham, the county town of Rutland, this is a really lovely little hotel, very warm and cozy, we'll definitely be going back for a longer stay. Oakham is possibly the quietest town I have ever visited, you get the feeling that you could leave your wallet open on the pavement with an invitation for people to help themselves but it would be closed for you and left on a wall with a note telling you to be more careful next time. It's that kind of town.
Luckily for us it has a Balti house! www.rutlandbaltihouse.co.uk, which offered a very fine supper to two intrepid mountaineers such as ourselves. Intrepid we may be, under prepared we most certainly are, having left the house in something of a hurry that morning George had his well worn "slick" Crocs on and I only had my suedette boots with me. Not to worry, how hard can Rutland and Leicestershire be?
Leicestershire, the home of pork pies, Stilton cheese and place names that sound like very posh men who almost certainly wear coloured corduroys and have probably never known a woman if you catch my drift. I'm talking about places like Smeeton Westerby, Burton Lazars, Melton Mowbray, Glaston Morcott (tenuous but I don't care), Appleby Magna, Croxton Kerrial. The list goes on.
This morning Burton Lazars awoke with a bad head after a surfeit of port wine and over-ripe stilton cheese. He realized with shame that he'd gone to bed wearing his Viyella shirt half undone, his knitted vest and a pair of baggy and heavily stained Jockey pants. Scratching his balls he felt even more embarrassed as he heard Mrs Skeffington (his lady that does) tutting at the patch of dried vomit on the best Axminster in his lounge. Meanwhile across the county Smeeton was about to ring up Direct Line to discuss the insurance for his Citroen Saxo and it wasn't going to be pretty...
In the real world George and I headed out towards Knossington to nail Cold Overton Park.
It was tremendously cold with icy patches and little drifts of snow.
We followed the bridleway and spotted quite quickly the trig point which, I'm lead to believe represents the highest point in Rutland. There is no prominence, only a very lovely view to Rutland Water in a very tiny but lovely part of England.
Onwards to Melton Mowbray (pie heaven). Having eaten a hearty breakfast at least an hour earlier we felt the need to refresh selves after arduous climb up a hill with nil prominence (see above) with a hexagonal quiche from Ye Olde Pork Pie Shoppe (https://www.porkpie.co.uk/), made with hot water crust pastry, ham and stilton. "It's only got a day on it" said the girl in the shop, "That's okay" we thought, "we only need ten minutes with it." This was an awesome refreshment break.
We headed over towards Coalville for Bardon Hill through beautiful rural countryside, past inviting and wonderfully named gated roads though Stilton Cheese country. Gradually the landscape became more industrial in nature and Bardon Hill eventually came into sight.
It's initially uninviting but having located the Ivanhoe Way we set off in Crocs and soft soled suedette shoes to conquer the mighty peak.
The ground was a curious and challenging combination of incredibly muddy but semi frozen dirt. We walked through woods up the path and listened to ravens laughing at us in our unsuitable footwear and then onto a final rocky scramble to the trig point. Much of Bardon Hill it seems has been blasted away for its useful rock, earlier on as we set out we'd heard the siren denoting a blast but that was all, as we reached the top there was another siren sounding and then an almighty blast and the ground shook under our feet.
Climbing up Bardon Hill is much more satisfying than the route and height would suggest. Looking down into the quarry was incredible. This was well worth the effort and the danger of wearing slicks on a muddy slope (feeling confident a broken hip would ensue).
Having a nailed high point number 12 our attention turned to the return trip home.
Ebrington Hill, highest point in Warwickshire, crossed by a road. Dear reader we conquered it.
It feels like we've been to a foreign land today and for much longer than just a day.
We are loving our adventure and the new places it's taking us to, we have no idea where we'll end up next but hoping it involves a pie and a nice walk in sensible shoes.
#62peaks
#ruthschallenge
Well of course we could and Rutland is so small we'll get Leicestershire in too.
Evening journey up to Rutland after work, unfortunately there are some new roads that don't match those on the SatNav so it made for an interesting drive east.
We stayed at the www.wisteriahotel.co.uk in Oakham, the county town of Rutland, this is a really lovely little hotel, very warm and cozy, we'll definitely be going back for a longer stay. Oakham is possibly the quietest town I have ever visited, you get the feeling that you could leave your wallet open on the pavement with an invitation for people to help themselves but it would be closed for you and left on a wall with a note telling you to be more careful next time. It's that kind of town.
Luckily for us it has a Balti house! www.rutlandbaltihouse.co.uk, which offered a very fine supper to two intrepid mountaineers such as ourselves. Intrepid we may be, under prepared we most certainly are, having left the house in something of a hurry that morning George had his well worn "slick" Crocs on and I only had my suedette boots with me. Not to worry, how hard can Rutland and Leicestershire be?
Leicestershire, the home of pork pies, Stilton cheese and place names that sound like very posh men who almost certainly wear coloured corduroys and have probably never known a woman if you catch my drift. I'm talking about places like Smeeton Westerby, Burton Lazars, Melton Mowbray, Glaston Morcott (tenuous but I don't care), Appleby Magna, Croxton Kerrial. The list goes on.
This morning Burton Lazars awoke with a bad head after a surfeit of port wine and over-ripe stilton cheese. He realized with shame that he'd gone to bed wearing his Viyella shirt half undone, his knitted vest and a pair of baggy and heavily stained Jockey pants. Scratching his balls he felt even more embarrassed as he heard Mrs Skeffington (his lady that does) tutting at the patch of dried vomit on the best Axminster in his lounge. Meanwhile across the county Smeeton was about to ring up Direct Line to discuss the insurance for his Citroen Saxo and it wasn't going to be pretty...
In the real world George and I headed out towards Knossington to nail Cold Overton Park.
It was tremendously cold with icy patches and little drifts of snow.
We followed the bridleway and spotted quite quickly the trig point which, I'm lead to believe represents the highest point in Rutland. There is no prominence, only a very lovely view to Rutland Water in a very tiny but lovely part of England.
Onwards to Melton Mowbray (pie heaven). Having eaten a hearty breakfast at least an hour earlier we felt the need to refresh selves after arduous climb up a hill with nil prominence (see above) with a hexagonal quiche from Ye Olde Pork Pie Shoppe (https://www.porkpie.co.uk/), made with hot water crust pastry, ham and stilton. "It's only got a day on it" said the girl in the shop, "That's okay" we thought, "we only need ten minutes with it." This was an awesome refreshment break.
We headed over towards Coalville for Bardon Hill through beautiful rural countryside, past inviting and wonderfully named gated roads though Stilton Cheese country. Gradually the landscape became more industrial in nature and Bardon Hill eventually came into sight.
It's initially uninviting but having located the Ivanhoe Way we set off in Crocs and soft soled suedette shoes to conquer the mighty peak.
The ground was a curious and challenging combination of incredibly muddy but semi frozen dirt. We walked through woods up the path and listened to ravens laughing at us in our unsuitable footwear and then onto a final rocky scramble to the trig point. Much of Bardon Hill it seems has been blasted away for its useful rock, earlier on as we set out we'd heard the siren denoting a blast but that was all, as we reached the top there was another siren sounding and then an almighty blast and the ground shook under our feet.
Climbing up Bardon Hill is much more satisfying than the route and height would suggest. Looking down into the quarry was incredible. This was well worth the effort and the danger of wearing slicks on a muddy slope (feeling confident a broken hip would ensue).
Having a nailed high point number 12 our attention turned to the return trip home.
Ebrington Hill, highest point in Warwickshire, crossed by a road. Dear reader we conquered it.
It feels like we've been to a foreign land today and for much longer than just a day.
We are loving our adventure and the new places it's taking us to, we have no idea where we'll end up next but hoping it involves a pie and a nice walk in sensible shoes.
#62peaks
#ruthschallenge
Comments
Post a Comment