Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Not one of my better decisions

Trust me when I say I've made some duff decisions in my life; trust me further when I say that this afternoon was an exercise in duff decision-making.

A few days ago I was talking to someone about the industrial heritage of Clyne Valley. That reminded me of what my sons called Gypsy Hollow, and this afternoon I decided we'd go and visit it. Now I know where it is in relation to the main tarmac-ed bike track but I didn't want to go that way, primarily because of white-trousered walkers; George is far less of a liability in the usually deserted wooded areas. So off we set.

Now as I've mentioned before forestry men have done lots of work in the woods clearing rogue rhododendrons. The result of their work and their heavy machinery is a wood much altered from what it was. Paths have been cut off or are overgrown. Undaunted George and I set off on a little explore.

Now my sense of direction is not very good. Correction: I don't have a sense of direction so our first attempt ended up back where we started although I didn't realise at first as we came at it from a different angle and I didn't recognise it. Our second explore also ended up there but that was because all the paths - or what looked as if they might be paths - ended in brambles. Our third attempt seemed more hopeful.

That was until the path we were following - which was, I think, an old stream bed - became more and more impassable. But then we heard voices.
'Yay, George, we've done it! Human life!'
We stumbled on a bit further through the ferns and then stopped sharply. We were near the path it was true; we were just 30 metres above it with a sheer slope between us.
'Whoops!'
George sighed.
'Stop sighing and stop muttering to yourself; I can hear you. Now, let's think.' I looked at the slope; I looked back at the brambles that had already tried to take me prisoner. 'We'll go down the slope.'
George looked at me. 'You cannot be serious?' he said in his best McEnroe voice.
'Yes, we can do it.'
'I know I can do it but can you?'

I glanced up and down the path. 'There's no-one watching. I'll go down on my bum.'

Which I did. The only drawback - well, apart from the obvious drawbacks of slithering down a steep dusty slope covered in sticky-up twigs and ending in a stream - was that George thought this was a signal to bounce about all over me.

But we got down. And realised that Gypsy Hollow was a lot further on. But I was determined by now: we were going to get there.

The boys loved Gypsy Hollow because it made a great i.e. scary for watching mums, bike track. I wanted to get there today to take a photo of the old bit of what I guess is winding machinery.

Two and a half hours later we got home and I do believe that George is actually tired!

P.S. I'm not very good at distances either. It might not have been 30 metres down but it felt like it.

19 comments:

Anonymous said...

It's odd that until I read your Wild post, I had some notion that you walked in Clyne Valley. Yes, I can imagine George is too friendly for white trousers.

mrsnesbitt said...

LOL!

Yes, isn't it good when they are tired!
You'll have to do it all again tomorrow! LOL! (JOKING)

Anonymous said...

I am useless at direction, distance and perspective. I blame my poor eyesight.

Speed isn't my strong point either, last weekend I dreamily described speed to bobo as distance times length. Did I listen at all in maths classes lol?

mdmhvonpa said...

You certainly keep active. I'm more of a paved path sort of guy unless I'm all geared up for it.

Dragonstar said...

A real adventure! George obviously enjoyed every minute.

Suburbia said...

You were brave! It looks a great place though. I trust you think of your safety and always carry your mobile???

If George is tired does that mean no escapes planned for him for a while?!

Liz Hinds said...

Though why anyone in their right minds would wear white trousers for walking in a wood is beyond me, aileni! But they do.

He really seems tired, denise. it's most unusual!

It's a woman thing, hullaballoo. Probably because of our hormones. Most things are.

mdm, I can't imagine you have time for just walking in between your other activities!

dragonstar, he did indeed.

suburbia, mobile phone? No, of course not. If I fall in the woods, George will do a Lassie and 'bring help'!

Anonymous said...

I was thinking the same thing as Suburbia re: phone. What a super walk George treated you to. I especially liked the photos of the old ruined farmhouse and the machinery (plus the great bum-slide - another case of tucking your skirt into your knickers!)

Wendy (Wales)

Anonymous said...

Believe me, you've been sensible in comparison with me. Here I am as Book Owl but not the exact one I was this morning...since then, I have deleted my Blogger account - I did not mean to! I've returned but without control of my blogs...aaargh, tis me who has fallen on her behind Liz!

jmb said...

How do you have time for all this blogging when you went for such a long "walk"? You need GPS, obviously.

Rose said...

Well, I'm glad you got home in one piece! Maybe this is the kind of walk George needs every day to wear him out. ( I often watch "The Dog Whisperer"; have you ever seen it?)

CaBaCuRl said...

Thanks for visiting, & also for saying such nice things about Whisper the Wondercat ;-)
I enjoyed reading about your adventure to Gypsy Hollow...I am also quite interested in the historical aspect of the Industrial Revolution in the UK, so I will check out that place you mentioned.

Unknown said...

Great adventure -well told.

My wife has a similar sense of direction - though she can always find the cashpoint machine and shops that sell cushions and rugs, wherever she is!! Odd that!

Gary
Bodge's Bulletin.

Reader Wil said...

It's a lovely story Liz. Did I say it before? But you are a good story teller. I remember that when we were in Wales with my sister's family and mine. My husband and brother-in-law wanted to descent a hill they just climbed. The only way to come back was on their bums through the bracken. Boy were they dirty!!
Thanks for your visit and to answer your question: "No, the story of the little boy putting his finger in the hole in the dyke is not true! Impossible! Water is too strong."

Furtheron said...

You have such fun... ;-)

My daughter would have freaked - she hates when she says on a walk, bike ride, drive etc. "Where are we Dad?" "Well we're in the woods, (on the way to x), (Whatever)" "We're lost aren't we?" "No love we just don't know exactly where we are"

Normally if she can she'll stop and start insisting we go back whilst I'll plough on... I do luckily have a good sense of direction and do know normally roughly where we're likely to come back to something I'll recognise.

She hates it... :-)

James Higham said...

Sounds like a wonderful adventure to me.

Lindsay said...

Glad you got home OK. I do not know my N,S,E,W directions at all. Husband is astonished and wonders where I am in the world!

Liz Hinds said...

Wendy, it was a lovely walk but my legs are covered in scratches now!

Whoops, book owl! you're usually very techie too.

jmb, I just don't bother with the housework ...

rose, george might need it but it would finish me especailly if it was the same day as my circuit training!

cabacurl, do. the valley has all sorts of remains in it.

gary, I'm like that with card shops.

reader wil, thank you. As I was writing that question on your blog I thought to myself, 'Now that's just plain silly.'

furtheron, did you once leave her in a forest to find her own way out? She needs a dog, you see.

James, it was.

lindsay, I have to imagine a compass like a clock that's fallen over!

Suburbia said...

Are you sure he wouldn't just lick you to death on the spot!! Or (worse still) see that moment as another good time to escape!;)