April 18, 2011: Lilley to Peter’s Green
Tosh arrives at the Bright Star pub, Peter’s Green
The long-delayed start to the 2011 walking season at last got underway on a lovely Spring morning in April. Tosh, of course, never seemed to find a free day – and when a Saturday was selected she had to stay in at the last moment to greet police following a break-in. So, two days later, we were at last ready – though there was a delay even here: Tosh had to wait in for the gardener and, in the event, we did not meet at St. Pancras until 11:15. We bought return tickets to Luton, bought our coffees, and took the 11:34 train – which was just four minutes behind schedule. Because this was the first time either of us had been on the trail since last summer I had chose a short stage, just seven and a half miles, to get us started.
We took a taxi out in front of Luton station and a few minutes later we were climbing from the cab in Lilley, the Hertfordshire village we had last visited the previous May. It was 12:30, one of the latest starts ever for a London-based walk.
Near the church, on the opposite side of the road, we found a narrow enclosed path which soon admitted us to a field, where a sign warned us to keep dogs on lead because of the proximity of horses. There were, indeed, a number of these beasts about, as we made our way forward. The weather was cloudy bright but there was a stiff breeze for much of the day; the sun continued to make progress against the clouds, however, and we were soon bathed in a lovely light – which served to illuminate the wonderful Spring greens and the wildflowers and the blossoming trees.
Our route crossed a number of ridges today and we had now reached the first of these, Lilley Hoo. The climb up was quite steep at first and I was glad I had brought my walking stick. I had been experiencing problems with my left hip recently (another cause for the delay to the start of the season) but this spot was no more painful (though it never left me) than my legs – which were soon protesting at the unexpected exercise.
We topped the ridge and began a descent, with the A505 pulsating on our right. Halfway down the hill we met a chap who was out walking with his twelve-year old Staffordshire Terrier. For the first time (but by no means the last) we had to explain our American accents to someone who was clearly starved for conversation. He said his family had migrated from Italy many years ago – but he had no wish to visit his ancestral home. Tosh would have obliged his need for chat for who knows how long but I knew we needed to make it to our pub in time for food service so I continued down the hill and she soon followed.
At the farm road we soon reached there was a wonderful screen of young hawthorns in bloom and I took a picture. A few minutes later the road had taken us under the A505 and up to a t-junction, where we turned left and climbed another hill as far as Glebe Farm – where a bridleway allowed further progress in a southerly direction. We passed two young girls and, later, their moms, and it was obvious they were up to something with horses – though no animals were in sight.
At a lane called Luton White Hill we turned right, soon reaching another byway at Lilley Bottom. Was it here we passed a cottage that offered massage therapy within? – what a boon to the long-distance walker. A third of a mile later we had reached East Lodge, where I had to backtrack just a bit to find a Chiltern Way badge whose arrow confirmed that we were to abandon our roadway in favor of a path on the outside of Putteridge Bury. There now followed another long and steep ascent as we at last reached a hedge corner. The walking was a bit more sheltered here but all we had to do was keep going in the same direction in order to reach the first buildings of our noontime village, Mangrove Green. For a minute or so I thought the large white building off to our right must be our pub but we were soon standing next to the pub sign of our goal, on the left, the King William IV.
I had a few snacks in my pack but Tosh had no food whatsoever (assuring me that some could be bought en route – wrong!) and so the serving hours of King William were of critical importance. It was exactly 2:00 – and they stopped serving food at 2:30! Much relieved, we order our food and drinks (I had fish and chips and a double Jack Daniels) and took a seat at a corner table – there was no way of escaping the golden oldies blaring forth from the pub’s speakers. We had walked 2.8 miles and now had a nice relaxing time of it, using the loos before we departed at 3:00.
We continued in a southerly direction and on to the adjoining village Cockerhoe – which had an even larger green space than Mangrove Green. Cockerhoe was making plans for a village fete in honor of the royal wedding of William and Kate, scheduled for April 29. (I seem to recall that there were more applications for street parties in Hertfordshire than anywhere else in the county; there were none in Hull.)
Soon we could see the rooftops of nearby Luton, only a large field away, and we could now frequently see this Bedfordshire metropolis over on our right; above our heads, moving from right to left, we also began to see the takeoff moments of planes leaving Luton Airport. We now followed field edges that alternated with paths in the lovely woods – where bluebells were resplendent. At the end of this section we reached a road junction near Wandon End Farm. Our way forward, in open country, paralleled a road on out left – we actually passed another walker heading in our direction here, the only one we met this day.
Our line of march was southeast and after we had reached a road, which we also followed for a short distance, we left it for a bridleway that dipped and then began another ascent, following a hedge uphill. At the top there were some ambiguities, the only ones on a day in which waymarking had been consistently good. I am not quite certain what a hedgeline (a line of hedges?) is, but none seemed in evidence and the instruction to take bridleway K6 was of no help since these designations are
not noted on the ground. We were supposed to be looking for a lightning-destroyed tree but there was no obvious candidate and I relied more on Moon’s map than the text as we took to a path heading, obviously, for the village of Breachwood Green.
Tosh speculated that a stump we passed might have been that of the missing tree but we were walking along a bank now, as our text required. At the end there was no diagonal path through the next field so we headed first left, then right to emerge onto Chapel Road. Here we continued downhill, using Lye Hill road and then escaping it to continue forward on field paths downhill in the direction of Whiteway Bottom. Here we turned left, hunting for a gap in the hedges before heading uphill to regain all the lost altitude on a path climbing up to Sellbarn’s Dell Wood. Things leveled off a bit at the top, but there was still a little climb as we made our way up to Wandon Green Farm, where a couple were busy inspecting two horses.
Just on our left was the paved road to Peter’s Green and we now took it in a southwesterly direction for a mile or so. There was little traffic, which was just as well since, at a t-junction near Rudwick Hall, we each used roadside bushes for a last rural pee. Our road now swung to the right; this gave us excellent views of a large country pile, Lawrence End Park. Then the road turned left and I lost sight of Tosh, who was often out ahead. I found her again sitting on a bench at the next crossroads. I continued around a corner and observed the cheering site of The Bright Star pub across the green. It was obvious that it was open as well. I had toyed with the idea of giving our Alpha Taxis driver a pick-up time of 5:30 but, not wanting to be under the pressures of such a deadline, I had not done so. I could have, it transpired, for it was now 5:25.
The waitress at the pub admired a feather that Tosh had picked up today and brought us our drinks, a Diet Coke for me and a half lager for Tosh. This same waitress seemed astonished that we had walked seven and a half miles. We went outside and sat down at a sunny table in front of the pub. I called my cabbie but he said he was too far away to come and get us. He suggested I call home base but they said it would be an hour and forty-five minutes! Tosh then asked people at a neighboring table if they had a reliable taxi firm and a chap with tattoos, a bald head and a raspy voice, got out his mobile phone and called a cab that promised to be here in a mere forty-five minutes.
When this time had elapsed the chap offered to take us to the train station in his car and so we all piled in – two other lounge lizards joining us as well. They all wanted to know what two Yanks were doing in Peter’s Green. We were dropped off at the Parkway station – the special terminus for the airport, and made our way over to platform one – taking a 6:43 train south. I called Linda, who had care of my Fritz today, with an ETA and then we relaxed as our train, on a bit of a milk run, edged south. At St. Pancras Tosh headed for the underground but I was worried I would seize up completely if I used this conveyance and so I joined the taxi queue for a quick ride home. The cabbie waned to know what a Yank was doing on British footpaths.
I got home shortly before 8:00 (it was still light), had something to eat and dozed off until Linda brought Fritz home at 9:45. Bless her heart, she had not only given him his late night walk but she had given him a bath as well!
For the next three days we were occupied with the route’s northern extension.
To continue with our next stage, therefore, you need: