Today was a very easy, pleasant day. Following my bovine escapade last time, I drafted in Rachel for protection, but there was no real need. We met a few “coos” as she calls them in her lovely Scots accent, but they were supine in the sun.
After stopping to talk to a beautiful smokey grey cat, we walked back to the Nene and followed the road running to the east of the water. Eventually, the road became a track, and the track, a path. This is the Nene Valley Way. Towards the end of the Nene channel were a delightful pair of lighthouses. The one on the farther bank had clearly been done up into a very pleasing residence, and we both had a pang of house envy. But on the whole, I wouldn’t really want to be on such flat terrain. As we turned west along the Wash, we could see, far out to our right the line of the sea, but, to be honest, the marsh is so wide here; it is hard to believe I am actually on a coast walk.
The harvest is now mostly in – we saw a few combines diligently moving up and down the fields, but mainly the view inland was of cut corn fields or hay meadows with bales stacked high. The corn was interspersed with the odd field of potatoes or beans, and there was one big expanse where ploughing for, I suppose, winter wheat was beginning.
We saw few people all day – occasional dog walkers, one with a very nice retired greyhound that we were tempted to take with us. About half way round we came to an army shooting range. There were minatory signs around stressing the illegality of tampering with the unexplored bombs that apparently littered the area, I am convinced it is just cordoned off while the army searches for King John’s Crown Jewels, of which I have still seen no sign.
The sky, wide and open with 180degree views changed colour constantly with white clouds turning almost black and an interesting pink light over the Wash.
After some 15 miles we could see a tall tower in the distance. I decided it must be the Boston Stump, of which I have heard so much, and so it later proved.
Another 2.5 miles, took us to Fosdyke Birdge, a small settlement on the Welland Cchannel with a few boats moored, and, more importantly, an excellent pub! (See review.)
We took a taxi for the 8 miles into Boston and have booked him to fetch us in the morning to go back to Fosdyke. It seems there are no buses along the A47 going into Boston, the nearest being some 3 miles up the main road, which is a-thunder with lorries.
Boston looks nice, the Stump is indeed imposing. We may have a bit of time inthe morning to have a closer look, as tomorrow is an easy day. Hopefully, tonight will be more peaceful than last night – around midnight our peace was rudely broken by a young woman screaming and screaming at her boyfriend to f**** off and let her have five minutes by herself. She yelled and yelled as he tried to placate her. In the end, earplugs had to be employed!