January 2010

[Sweder]

With a weekend in The Smoke ahead I needed to bag some miles today. The problem was should I risk the slippery trial of the town's compacted-ice pavements or the lottery of knee-deep snow drifts up on the downs? The hills were always likely to win. With clear blue skies, strong sunshine and more heavy snow-laden clouds invading from the south west I wrapped myself in several layers, harnessed the dogs and set off. Picture postcard perfect scenes unfolded as I laboured over the well-trod paths onto the moth-balled fields. Here I struggled manfully through light, soft, knee-deep drifts, run-wading up the unrelenting hill, past the stables (looking rather like a ski lodge) and off into a glorious white wilderrness. This was hard graft, exhausting. My high-lift knee-action was taking its toll; I must've looked like a carthorse having a go at dressage. After two miles I'd slowed to a run-walk, sweat pouring off my face. I've run on soft-sand beaches and that's a good deal easier than this.

I rested at Black Cap, remembering the last time I came up here in thick snow with the hounds (February 2007 it turns out). I'd videod them charging around the milestone, yapping wildily as they frolicked. I'll dig out the link and post it here:



Standing there, wind whipping the icing sugar top layer off unblemished fields of sparkling white to swirl off into the east, I drank it all in. The homeward trail was easily spotted, my heavy tread carving an ugly trench through the hitherto pristine snow. With a huge sigh I set off again. Willow, our cocker spaniel, struggled badly. Not only are her legs too short for her portly countenance to clear the drift her paws iced up into cold hard balls. I tried to peel the ice from her pads but she yelped in pain. We both stode bravely on, no doubt sharing thoughts of an afternoon in front of a rageing wood burner, though I suspect I'm the only one planning to watch the cricket.

7.8 of the hardest kilometres I've covered in a long, long while.