. . . . around Fonthill Park, details of which can be found here.
(BTW, I have noticed that most bloggers give their family members suitable names, or initials, to hide behind, so from now on I'm doing the same - thus my lovely husband of almost 25 years, who always, always wears green clothing, becomes GM, the Green Man).
It was the Sunday before last, the morning was very misty, the forecast (incorrect as it happens) was for the mist to clear, so suffering a bit from cabin fever, and eager to make a start on our resolve to walk more in 2013, we headed out to Fonthill Park, which is about 11 miles from us, to the south of the A303, near Fonthill Bishop.
The AA's blurb (see link above) told us that the walk was 4.2 miles distance, minimum time 2 hours and level of difficulty easy. So off we confidently set. I suggest you enjoy the photos, and I'll describe the walk at the end.
It was misty, it was muddy, it definitely wasn't easy. It took us 3 hours. For most of the way round we were carrying twice the weight of our shoes in mud with us.
It was exhilarating.
It was great to be out in the big wide world, especially as for most of the walk we were the only ones in sight.
We walked along a road, through the large arched entrance to the park, over a fast flowing stream, past the greenest bus shelter I've ever seen, up hill and down dale, along a ridge where there were pheasant feeders (and saw a couple of pheasants in the distance), through some woods and a hamlet called Ridge where there was a llama farm, along the main drive towards the manor house, then off between paddocks and though more woods, around the edges of fields, downhill through yet more woods to the valley, over the weir, alongside the lake where there were swans, and back to where we had left the car. You'll notice that in a lot of the shots, GM is the statutory dozen or so steps ahead of me. There is no religious or cultural significance to this, its just that when I stop to take photos, he carries on walking.
Sensibly (unusual for us!!) we had remembered to take a change of footwear, so we were able to pay a visit to the Black Dog, a Waddies pub, for a welcome beer before eating our sarnies in the car.