A Sqwalk around Cannock Chase Tues 29th December 2009
Up for it were:
Yupmeister, Mid Week Tone, Pedro, Granpop Bill, Keithee's up for it, Stubbee, Dasher, Dceen, Spikelett, Mr Tahoohigh, Utterly, Jacko, Baz - Tones b in law, Zolette, Devine Steve, Helen, Heavy Steve Machine, Paul Hecky Thump, Wendy Hecky Thump, Tim Mothy, Graham Cork, Thingy, Mick Hooson, and Master Hooson
Helen dropped out, replaced by GPS-cott; and Ken and Christian Spencer opted out along with Graham's not Hawkeye anymore.
Route
Start and finish at The Horns at Slitting Mill, west of Rugeley See plan below.
11 miles around Cannock Chase. A perfect winter walk; dry underfoot over sandy/gravel terrain.
My boy Bill, the minibus driver, picked Utterly up from Kingsway. Meanwhile, Mr Tahoohigh reported in that he could hear noises from his rear which was most upsetting. A couple of texts later and Bill detoured back to Newcastle to pick him up before picking the rest of the gang waiting patiently at The Westbury at 7.30.
The journey was fairly short, arriving in Rugeley just after 8. All we had to do was find Slitting Mill, which wasn’t signed too well. A friendly newsagent and 2 paperboys came to the rescue.
A group photo, or two, or three, and we set off along the road led by Paul Hecky and Wendy Thump. 500 yards or so and we entered the Chase, just ten minutes behind their pre-timed schedule. The temperature must have risen to a lukewarm 2 degrees as most of the hard cold frost endured over xmas had lifted from the ground, leaving just a few remaining odd icy patches. It was grey, and sleet made brief attempts to dampen our spirits. No chance.
A fair pace was set in the hope that our bacon and eggs wouldn’t be burnt at the Springslade Lodge café and we actually made up the slightly late start arriving 5 minutes earlier than planned. GP Scott who had replaced Helen at the last minute gave us reliable up to the minute walking distances using his GPS system on his phone. That was until his battery ran out. How reliable was that?
The cafe was a welcome shelter, particularly for Wendy Hecky Thump. It gave her an opportunity to open her hip flask and be the first on the day to consume alcoholic. It was to be the first of many warming drambuies that would be consumed over the day. Corky was staggered that someone had beaten him to it. After 5 minutes Keithee’s specs demisted and the pre-ordered breakfasts and teas began to emerge with superb efficiency from the kitchen. The first order to come out was DCeens bacon butty. He gets all the luck! Last, but not least, was a sausage sandwich for Devine Steve; only the 49th sausage he’d devoured over the last couple of days.
Back on track we set off in a northerly direction following the Staffordshire Way across Brocton Field, where we passed a weirdo desperately filling his rucksack with deer droppings. ‘I’ll be back in a moment dear’, he probably said to his wife, ‘I’m just off for a walk in the snow dear to fill my rucksack with dung’. Strange lot these Cannockites.
It was treacherous in places where the ice remained. A group of cyclists fell foul of a patch as the leader went head over heals behind us, and embarrassingly regained his position in the saddle covered in mud. We carefully crossed the infamous stepping stones anticipating a splash from someone, but sadly no-one fell in.
We nipped across the A513 towards Little Haywood, and on to the canal which we followed east towards another welcoming sight, the Wolsey Arms.
A cracking log fire soon disappeared behind a pile of damp hats, coats and rucksacks. Mr Tahoohigh held his hat out to dry on the end of his walking stick. ‘Was that a ratatuohy?’ asked Keithee.
It was a pity we had to move on really. The Landlord and a Xmas brew, which I’ve forgotten the name of, were well received and the grub looked tasty. Time was called by Hecky Thump and we set off at a relatively slower pace than the morning stretch towards the Horns. At least now the rain had stopped and we hadn’t got far to go.
50 minutes later we arrived at the Horns, where Mick and Master Houson took their leave. The Horns was deserted except for a young waitress, a barman and a chef in the kitchen (hopefully) who were glad to see us. Deciding which table to sit at in the empty restaurant was tricky. The waitress, shy and embarrassed, uttered the names as the meals arrived, much to the delight of the recipients. ‘Thingy’, cried the waitress. ‘His wife calls him small thingy’, Keithee hollered back, and she shrank with more embarrassment back into the kitchen.
Devine Steve was pleased to see his 50th sausage served to up with a dollop of mash; Dasher set off in search of the dumplings in his ‘stew and dumplings’; and the pie of the day was not dissimilar to a left over Christmas dinner. Talking of Christmas, on the way to the Horns, Mick had said his wife had requested a head massage kit for Christmas. When she declared it would cost £50 he told her she needed her head feeling.
Having driven down from Manchester, Corky was being admirably cautious over his usual drinking intake. Still seething over the fact that someone had beaten him to the first alcoholic drink of the day he seemed to lose his glass to mouth co-ordination and lost half a pint down his shirt.
Several took their leave to drive home leaving the rest to enjoy the fun and games as card schools and pool competitions began. More ale was drunk, only to be sociable of course. Zollette led the wailing on the back seat as Christmas carols kept everyone awake on the bus back to Stoke.
Many thanks to Paul Hecky and Wendy Thump, who, following several trial runs, had timed the Sqwalk to perfection. Another cracking day, well done!
Cheers
Yup
(enjoy yer chase)
