Day 15 Box to Beckington

Box to Beckington

14 Miles

Today was very varied. Steep climbs, canal towpaths, town streets and newly ploughed fields all featured strongly.

The day started with a very steep climb out of Box for nearly a mile, followed by a slow descent along a track towards Bradford upon Avon.

Everything was going swimmingly until the track ended and the footpath allegedly crossed a few large fields. The farmer had obviously heard that I was coming and deliberately ploughed all his fields just to cause the most annoyance. The general rule in the countryside is that you must try to follow the path, even if that involves walking through crops, or in this case a recently ploughed field. The trusty map and compass saw me across four fields to the right place, but it was so exhausting treading through the ploughing. My boots sank up to the ankles with every step.

A good while and a good many naughty words later I reached the streets of Bradford on Avon. Bradford is a smaller version of its neighbour, Bath, and a lot quieter. I follow the streets to the Kennet and Avon Canal, which the path follows for the next two miles. I was looking forward to a tranquil walk along the towpath but it was not to be. The reason was that my timing was unfortunate. As I walked westwards, the competitors in the Bradford on Avon triathlon were running eastwards on the same towpath. I spent most of the time playing “dodge the athlete” although most of them looked as though they were at their limits of exhaustion. Huh! Try crossing newly ploughed fields pal!

At the end of the canal section another very steep climb presented itself up to the village of Westwood. This was followed by a more gentle stroll down the lane to Iford where I encountered the River Frome. The stone bridge at Iford has a statue of Britannia on the parapet, facing downstream.

Bridge at Iford

The Macmillan Way then took me up the Frome valley towards Beckington. At Farleigh Hungerford there is the ruin of an old castle, which seemed a strange place for such fortifications. I need to make further investigations at to its history. Close to the small village of Tellisford there is yet another fortification which is even more mysterious. What is a World War II pill box doing here in the middle of nowhere? What on earth was it meant to be defending? More investigations required.

My cunning plan was to get to Beckington early and find a pub showing the Conference Play-off. I found a pub but no footie. Plan B was to get my brother to text the score to my mobile every time the Hatters hit the net, which obviously would be often. Two minutes gone; one – nil! League here we come, COYH! (Which if David Cameron is reading this stands for Come On You Hatters). Twenty minutes later; 1-1. Minor setback, we must believe. Just after half time York scored again making it 1-2. Then a long silence. I checked for a signal but all the lights were on. Where was the text for the equalizer? We must have scored again by now. By the time Norina arrived to take me home there were only a few minutes left and it did not sound good on Five Live. It was not to be. Still, it’s only a game.

216 miles completed and I am now in Somerset. Two rest days now and then on Wednesday the big push through Somerset and Dorset to Chesil Beach.