I believe that it's the Danish who say 'if you're warm enough when you set out on a walk you have too many clothes on."
Point proven today.
A lazy morning led to me striding out purposefully early afternoon down a coastal path towards Dunwich. A 2 hour stroll would see me in The Ship for a late lunch: likely a local scotch egg, chips and a pint. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and I had a Spotify playlist to listen to: I just wasn't paying attention. I needed to remember that the non coastal path to Dunwich is 2nd right after the windmill. I took the 1st right... deeper and deeper into the woods.
By the time I realized I was lost the sun was setting ahead of me.
I kept going reckoning that a healthy path and a setting sun would surely lead to civilization.
By the time I realized my folly it was too late to turn around. The sun had gone, the path had turned to a muddy glue, my phone had died and I was lost.
I had company. In the dusk I came across a snarling Alsatian who backed me up against a tree. I'm"don't be so silly Sally". The hound from Hades morphed into a pooch, smelt my crotch and departed.
not great under pressure. Are you meant to make yourself big and eyeball an aggressive beast or make yourself small and submissively look the other way? I did both! I'd be useless with a brown bear. I was eventually saved by a vaping little old lady in a bobble hat and pink wellies who sang
Next contact was even more unsettling: a little blond girl in a blood red cape (yup) closely followed by a scruffy bearded bloke (Daddy I hope) who smilingly showed me a set of long white teeth.
Really! Although I am, I couldn't write this stuff...
Still lost in the woods.
It gets dark early in these parts.
I sang to myself to steady the ship: "Not out of the woods yet".
I eventually stumbled upon a bridle path promising 'Walberswick Common: 4 miles'.
I reckoned that was 6400 meters (it took a while) so committed to counting 6400 strident steps: that would see me home. I lost interest at 459 and went back to the singing.
"Not out of the woods yet".
As long as I kept my feet in the tyre track puddles I knew that I was still on track.
I was nearly taken out by an 8 year old (?) driving a Land Rover: obviously having lessons from his Dad who, as far as could tell, was sitting in the back seat.
I tried to wave the boy down. He waved back, hollered and kept on going.
By now the moon was up and lit the path ahead.
You can't trust in nature but it'll never let you down.
Eventually I spotted the lights of the village and arrived disheveled and thirsty at The Bell.
Sweltering in my thermal vest.
The Danish know their onions...
A pint of Ghost Ship, a packet of Chardonnay & sea salt peanuts and a chat with a pretty local toothsome barmaid whose accent is so strong that I still don't know her name.
I think it's either Sharon or Byron...
I believe that she advised 'The Eel's Foot' as the best local pub food after The Bell.
I'm sure to get lost again.
And the moon led me home.