The weather was kind to us, with just a little drizzle. It was probably one of the last few decent-weather outings before the waterproofs and gaiters have to make their annual appearance.

Anyone who regularly walks public footpaths will know that passing through someone's property can sometimes feel like you're trespassing on a military installation. But we had the delight of finding a property where the owners had done a brilliant job of making the footpath obvious while still maintaining their privacy. A beautifully carved wooden bear stood beside the path with a sign pointing walkers in the right direction. Quite literally, it was telling us to "bear right." Whether that was deliberate or not, we appreciated the pun enormously. Charlie, meanwhile, was having his own little adventure. He disappeared into the undergrowth at one point while we searched for a rather elusive footbridge. For a brief moment, it looked as though we might lose him to the bushes altogether. Thankfully, he emerged relatively unscathed.

 

It turned out to be a day of quite a few giggles:

• As we climbed a woodland hill path in single file, one of our group spotted a mushroom and enthusiastically announced, "Ooh, look at that funghi!" Others in the group were most disappointed to see a mushroom as they'd expected to look up and see some interesting man on the horizon (Fun Guy) hahaha.
• One particular field presented us with an alarming obstacle: a tractor in the middle of the footpath, enthusiastically muck-spreading. For a split second, we contemplated our (slurry) fate. Fortunately, our friendly neighbourhood farmer kindly moved out of the way. Crisis averted. Our clothes, dignity and nostrils remained intact.

 

We stopped for lunch at the very impressive Ecton Mine. GEEKY FACT: It's as deep as the Empire State Building is tall, and its winding engine house is the oldest surviving steam-powered mine winding engine house in the world. Quite a lot of industrial history tucked away in the middle of all that beautiful countryside.

 

We also stumbled across the obligatory Duke of Edinburgh group; looking utterly bewildered, sporting enormous rucksacks and clearly completely lost. The collective look of horror on their faces when Charlie showed them where they were on the map was priceless. Then, as if summoned by some sort of teenage-navigation distress signal, a transit van came trundling up the remote track and they were reunited with their D of E assessors. Under any other circumstances, a group of teenagers being approached by mysterious men in a van in the middle of nowhere would be cause for considerable alarm. On this occasion, however, the girls looked absolutely delighted.