A foray outdoors

If you have a dog, you are forced out into the wild at least once a day. However, there are walks and walks. In my world, there is the everyday dash out and back, following the same route, which is a necessity for keeping Maud’s energy levels in check. At the beginning of January, this is often done in the dark. At the end of February, in the falling dusk.

At weekends, there are longer, more adventurous walks. Walks where mud is a certainty more than a likelihood. Wellington boots and fingerless gloves. Even with these longer walks, it is easy to fall into a rut. When did we last forge a new path? Follow a completely unknown route? I recommend it. 

My mother gave us a book of Blackdown Walks for a wedding present. We walked many of them during our honeymoon (route 13 proved too muddy, even in August) and some have become firm favourites. This winter, we re-explored the landscape on the cusp of Dorset. The truck left by St Michael’s church in Cotleigh, we squelched and slid down to the river and then up the other side to the orchard behind South Wood Farm. Across the Stockland Road and then a little detour for lunch at the Kings Arms, overlooking the most perfect village church. The views across the valleys are sweeping and glorious. Chessboards of fields, rolling towards the sea at Lyme. 

Even short walks can be made memorable with the addition of sustenance. Mince pies are a distant memory, but if you want a hit of joy in the middle of a sodden trudge, then can I suggest a truffle? 

Did I say a hit of joy? Sugar. I meant a hit of sugar.

To be consumed with tea at the two thirds mark of the walk’s distance. Any earlier and you have nothing to look forward to. Any later, and you might as well eat it at home. 

A flask of something hot is non-negotiable.