At the AGPU, which was just around the corner from my house, I allowed myself to be talked into setting a Hash or two by hairraiser – Batman. I often have a route or two in mind, which are too short for a TACH run, but which ought to be just right for a hash. At the moment I an nurturing three or four, as I have not been out with the hash for a bit, due to grandparental duties.
The first is one that has been festering in my mind for years, so I thought I had better see if it was still possible to get around it. Consequently, I went out in the van to the Bull at Hinton on Tuesday to check it out.
As it turned out, there was not much to worry about. There was one section early on, which I thought might have become overgrown with brambles and nettles, as it is one of those irritating narrow paths with a barbed wire fence on one side and a hedge on the other. These often get overgrown unless someone uses them a lot and keeps them clear. However, I got away with only a slight stinging sensation in my legs on this occasion. The ford was satisfactorily wet and I would imagine that anyone trying to use the stepping stones is likely to fall in. There is quite a pull up to the motorway bridge, and I think I may have to include a loop back along the Monarch’s Way for anyone thinking of walking.
There was a clear path across the big field, but it was ridged, making for quite heavy going. The nettle patch on the other section of the Monarch’s Way was thick, but luckily there was a path around it through the trees. There were cows on the section around the farm after the quarry, but they were not very curious and easily discouraged from being a nuisance. I wasted a little time finding the path alongside the motorway. I think it was overgrown when I went there last, but it had been opened up by the Berkeley Hunt in order to maintain the fence that they have put up to keep hounds off the motorway.
There were some more cattle on the otherside of the tunnel under the motorway. They were young stock, but they were quite easily persuaded to stand still, when I waved my belt bag at them. The lane back to the pub was full of rather splendid shoe-washing puddles.
I stopped off at the pub for a pint when I got back; it would have been rude not to pop in! The barman claimed the bar was shut, but he poured me a pint of Wadsworth’s IPA anyway. It went down very quickly I am afraid!
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