THURSDAY 13th APRIL 2006
SPRING WALK – A lea and a ledge, a-ledge-a-lea.
BOLLIN VALLEY/LINDOW MOSS/ALDERLEY EDGE 20km (12½ miles)
16 were up for this walk which was organised superbly by the one and only Jacko, The gang included Yup, Keithee, Graham, Pedro, Picasso, Heavy Steve Machine, Spike, Nige (noel), Joe Tahoohigh, Paul Lucasade, Sparky Rob, Digger Dave, John Nichol, Tim and his good neighbour Rob Unsworth.
The start point was from the National Trust car park next to the Wizard Hotel, near Alderley Mill, Alderley Edge, just 8 miles north of Congleton off the A34. The Wizard it must be noted was a restaurant/hotel only so there would be no returning for a swift one before driving home (tel 01625 584000). The proposed start at 8am was delayed by around half an hour following the movement of cars from the car park to a lay by down the road for some reason I can’t remember, group photos and to drink a drop of the hard stuff handed out by Pedro and Picasso as a gesture of thanks to the squarry group for their support over recent months.
The walk began at a rate of around 2k a minute, pushed by the 2 Keithees who were at it again, trying to make up for the delayed start and knackering everyone in the process. Were we bovered? We were slightly disenchanted however when we realised that visits to both the King William and the Boddington Arms had to be abandoned as time was running short!! A short cut through an estate and Lindow Common was also made leading us on to Lindow Moss; an area now filled with domestic refuse and covered in trees; and where the infamous body of Pete Marsh, was found in 1984, evidently strangled by a ligature in a ritual killing during the Iron Age.
Mumblings of ‘when’s the breakfast stop’ began but were lost amongst the back packs. We passed around the south side of Rossmere where we became separated for a short while, and onwards to some steps into heathland. Grahams vast knowledge of the whereabouts of the local hostelries was immense, but alas they’d closed down since he gave up the drink. Graham’s knowledge extended to describing the history of this local lake which was filled with terrapins some years ago. These mutated into dinner plates and ate all the fish. Consequently the lake had to be drained and the terrapins removed. I personally think it was Graham himself who had performed this deed. Why else was he keeping his head down as we passed through his local territory?
Pedro took on his role of lollipop lady again to see us across a busy road at one point and Nige somehow head-butted a sign, although some said it was a kerb? When passing through a farm yard a horse stood firmly in our path and we had to detour slightly to get past. Even Nige who has got the horse whisperers powers struggled to squeeze past.
Mumblings of ‘when’s the breakfast stop’ began again and at last we stopped in a park with one bench in it for Yup. Pedro on the borrow again, and with only 7p on his phone, rang his wife to let her know Yup had got a seat.
Out from Lindow Moss, and The Plough & Flail came into sight at around the 14 km mark. (Tel 01565 873537). A field on the left was stocked with a ‘mob’ of ostriches with the owner bringing up the ‘rhea’. Nige ‘crane’d his neck to see them over the field gate. (What knowledge!!).
Guinness, Bass, Pedigree, Boddingtons, Leffe, Hoegarten and Stella were available at the Plough. Digger Dave opted for the Hoegarten and Picasso joined him with a couple of lemons. Digger D admitted he doesn’t often partake but Pedro added that his boyfriend does.
Sitting in the fresh air at the entrance to the pub in our muddied walking gear we kicked off our boots and took great delight in obstructing the passage of the upper echelon attempting to enter for their gee and tees. We were moved on after a couple of pints by the landlady who decided to water the plants around us and wash away the mud off the patio. I tend to make things up as I go along if you haven’t already noticed. As Joe often says, ‘why confuse fiction with fact?’
As we moved on Pedro admitted to hearing Spike dumping at the first pub. Dumping what I wondered.
We passed the Sewage works and Carr Farm before stopping at an old wooden garage, held together with string, which was full of old knick knacks. Nige scrummaged around the shelves hoping to build a rover but retreated in fear of it collapsing around him.
A short while further on and John Nichol was chatted up by a lady out in her garden. When John informed her we were all from Stoke she turned her head and continued gardening.
Digger Dave the gardener showed off his teeny weeny camera to Steve Machine who stood in admiration saying that he’d also prefer a thin one as his was too thick to handle. Pedro kept stum about his Box Brownie.
Lunch time at last and we arrived at De Trafford Arms in Alderley Edge in good time.(01625 583881) Why can’t dey pronounce the in Altherley ethge? The Arms is open all day and serves the usual and Theakstons, Boddingtons, Pedigree and Bombardier.
Graham, used to being barred from the local hostelries, sat on his own outside in the sun. Yes it had turned out to be another cracker of a day for another office walk. The rest of us piled into the farest corner of the pub and waited for the food to be served up.
A discrepancy over the meals revealed Matty ‘Nice-one’ had let us down by not turning up for his fish and chips. That fish could have fed thousands.
The waitress was obviously not local. She was in fact Polish as discovered by Keithee who had come across her several weeks before when he got a hole in one. If you want to know more you’ll have to ask him yourself!! Announcing the pies with a speckled hen in a polish cum Mancurian dialect bemused Nige, who keen to get her attention asked if she would like an emu in her lounge. Obviously a common phrase in Biddulph that she would readily understand.
2 pints and a meal downed we woke Mr Tahoohigh up. He admitted to not being able to sleep lately and had even pretended he was at work in the office, but even that hadn’t worked. Steve Machine admitted to playing with Dave Wood and had done his ligaments in, but we decided to leave it at that.
We split up shortly after De Trafford Arms, with some returning to the car park via a steep sided woodland area and Pedro, Yup and Graham continuing on to Prestbury along country lanes via another couple of pubs before catching the train back to Stoke station.
Pedro complained, sorry commented, that there were supposed to be 5 pubs on the way back to the station at Prestbury as promised by Graham. Graham apologised for his mistake and agreed that there were in fact 7.
At the Bulls Head at Mottram Cross Pedro complained, sorry commented, that his ale was flat, just to get another free pint of Speckled Hen. An hour later, and Spike and Rob joined the motley crew at The Bulls Head, before setting off again down country lanes to Prestbury in search of the infamous Admiral Rodney, recommended by Jacko. Grahams immense knowledge of the pubs came in handy again as we tried to find old Rodders. Graham was adamant the pub had been renamed but in the end we asked a local yob who confirmed its location just a few hundred yards along the main road. Rodders was full of well dressed gents in jackets and ties who had just finished a hard days work in the office; just like we would have done. As the 6.57 train loomed ever nearer we darted out of the pub and over the bridge linking the platforms. The fat controller seeing Spike doubled over on the bridge and looking in pain held up the train. He was in fact letting off ‘steam’ as he does from time to time, before jumping on the train. To his credit it was a wise move.
Robs experience of travelling on the train paid off as we jumped aboard towards the front of the second class. Evidently the conductor usually starts his ticket checks at the back end of the second class compartments and generally doesn’t have sufficient time to progress to the front end. A useful tip from Sparky.
We escaped into the streets of Stoke to Sangams for a quick balti and a chat about the third world etc all sparked off by Spikes holiday in Cuba. Rob jumped back on board the train again back to Stafford; in one of the front carriages again of course.
Jacko had intended to give us some stick; dip sticks in fact, for testing glucose levels. Perhaps as well he was too hyper to remember.
A super day’s outing again and superbly organised by Jacko who gave himself a hernia in the process.
Regards
Yupmeister
(Enjoy yer baltis)