March 2022

31st

I woke up on a grassy car park close to Winnats Pass, which is near Castleton.

A view towards Castleton in the east.

All night long, someone parked in a lay-by near the parking lot, which somewhat bothered me. I fell onto the main tent pole and broke it while attempting to pack my tent. Additionally, I neglected to retrieve my USB cable. After walking through thick snow for a short time, the cloud broke, and the morning sun came back out.

I had breakfast at a small café near the castle. My debit card didn't work at the counter, but a friend wired some money to them, so I didn't have to offer to do their dishes, ugh. I walked up a busy road to get to Mam Tor from town. Along the way, I saw Treak Cavern and Winnats Pass.

I did not traverse the entire length of these mountains to reach Hope; rather, I dismounted at Hollins Cross and proceeded to Edale. Right away, the weather changed, and big chunks of falling snow made it hard to see. The Northwest side of this mountain looked very different.

After the freezing wind stopped squinting my eyes and the snow's stunning whiteness spread out across the landscape, I felt spiritually cleansed from the oppressive darkness that had been placed upon me. I thought, "I am saved!" Within a mile of walking down a tranquil lane, the landscape remained unaltered by the weather. I passed by a farm and captured these images.

I approached the village of Edale with a desire for Snickers bars. Upon entering the visitor's center, I discovered that the sole chocolate bar available was Snickers. This was an uncanny coincidence. I drank at the Old Nags Head in the evening and the Rambler Inn. The only spot I could find to set up my tent in Edale was half a mile from the village on the Transpenine way to Kinder Scout.

30th

Located three miles north of Matlock, by the Derwent River.

After gathering my belongings, I headed north and soon encountered the Kalergi Plan Patrol.

I noticed I had come upon the Peak Rail Heritage Railway after passing some intriguing locomotives.

I promptly located a bus stop and boarded the local bus, which travelled three miles to Bakewell. While travelling, I entered a bakery to consume a Bakewell Tart. While I was putting my things away, I broke the lens hood for my 300 mm DSLR camera. I was displeased by this.

As I continued into Bakewell, I noticed that the padlocks were still on the bridge. I've been here twice, but where are the bolt cutters?

I left Bakewell and headed north after getting walking route advice from a camping store.

And onto the Monsal Trail.

A mile into this trail, I discovered that I had gastroenteritis, or stomach flu, and puked all over the trail. It felt great to finally get the many bacteria out of my stomach.

29th

Do you know where I'm starting my journey today?

I stopped at a bar and had a small whiskey before going to check out my old basement apartment, where I lived in the 1990s.

Local was a bar called the Beehive, which was managed at the time by Kelly, an Irishman.

I took the train from Cheltenham to Derby and bought a ticket.

I was glad to leave the town behind and think about the future.

I got off the train at Derby and bought a through ticket to Belper, but I didn't wake up until the last stop, Matlock. Stressed, I walked a few miles north, past a cricket ground, camping in a field next to the River Derwent.

28th

The day I took a stroll through Nailsworth, I stopped by the Canteen café to indulge in some delectable food and beverages.

I was told that the Non-License Restaurant in Nailsworth was caught with illegal immigrant workers who were living above the business. After losing their license, people in the area kept them going as a protest.

Undoubtedly, a left-leaning town like this would not be complete without a Communist-themed shop; the entire region is inundated with malevolent Marxists.⁣

A dignified individual who is still consuming this Communist nonsense is psychologically deranged.⁣

27th

I hope to blog about my journey across England over the past two weeks, but it's been a while since I made a post because I haven't had computer access to update this blog. In hindsight, I was not adequately prepared for the journey that lay ahead of me after departing my accommodation in Truro. My physical condition has declined since I ceased travelling two years ago.

24th

Throughout the night, individuals entered and exited the allotment. Subsequently, I heard the gate open to the perimeter of the allotment, which was directly opposite my tent. As I got out of my tent, I heard running on the hillside and saw a loud, blue and orange sunrise. I also heard the doors shut on a car speeding off into the distance.

Before I could bury my feces, I started packing up my tent, so I ended up dumping my possessions on the spot where I had poop. I tried cleaning my pack with my last wet wipes before burying what I could. I strolled into Stow on the Wold after passing through Lower Swell and Upper Slaughter. Perched briefly on a bench that was adorned with daffodils.

The hill leading to Stow on the Wold was steep and required 15 minutes to ascend. This Cotswold town was more amiable and less dreamy than its predecessor, Borton in the Water. I arrived at a bench near the local town stocks after walking halfway down a hill, through an arcade, and along a short road. I sat next to myself because my dirty clothes smelled so strong.

In the past few days, I've been asking the ether to help me get rid of the smell of musky fox urine that was lingering on my clothes. This smell was bothering not only me but also other people who were buying food and drinks at the cafés I frequented.

23rd

I was awake most of the night, the frost was staunch hard in this field. In the middle of the night I required the toilet, unzipping my tent I noticed a foul chemical smell which I presumed came from the air traffic flying in and out of RAF Brize Norton. The morning was a hard pack away, I was also mindful of nearby houses being aware of where my tent was pitched; not wanting to return here this evening.

After spending the night in these sleepless conditions, it's simple to get one over on someone the next morning. It is essential to stay warm and comfortable.

When I jumped over the fence, the heavy weight of my backpack nearly dislocated my shoulder. I then picked up rubbish from the street in the hopes that things would improve in this town. I initially visited an artisan bakery for breakfast, but it was too early. Subsequently, I located a launderette at the Cooperative Supermarket (Co-op) to wash my heavily soiled clothing. After feeling followed in the Co-op, I went back to the bakery and met the lovely owner. I tried to give her a warm smile.

In Borton on the Water, I spent the night pitched on a chilly, icy field.

I spent a lot of time in the pub getting my phone charged.

Around sunset, I walked up a hill and watched the sun go down before entering a village called Upper Slaughter.

Before leaving to find a secure location to set up my tent, I hung around the middle of the village, watching a chimney burn out of smoke. I chose to pitch my tent aside an allotment because the hillside was covered in sheep faeces.

21st

I rarely go back to the same pitch again, but I spent the entire night wandering around Clanfield in search of somewhere else. The night was much colder, but I was warmer because I wore more layers.

I traversed the northern end of the village in order to connect with the D'arcy Dalton Way. It took longer to walk down the lane to the footpath than it looked on the map because I was really eager to leave Clanfield.

I decided to rest a short distance along the D'arcy Dalton Way because I had not been able to eat before leaving Clanfield. My face is swollen and chapped from the frost and sunburn, and I don't usually look this wrinkled, but I'm learning to ignore it.

19th

When I woke up at sunrise on a windy hillside above Farringdon, I saw a silly monument built to honour the evil antichrist tyrant Oliver Cromwell.

Set up my tent just inside a pine copse.

Soon, dog walkers arrived, and a man and a woman became extremely rude. The woman said, "You know you should not be here, don't you?" I was incensed and responded, "How many times have I heard that, how many times did Jesus hear that?" She responded, "There is no need to behave in that manner." The man accompanying her appeared horrified, suggesting that I was "out of order," and she once again failed to comprehend the duration of the "no room at the inn." I pressed the issue further by asking her how long it had been in effect. He became fixated on delivering the final word before I instructed him to relocate his narcissism. Leaving the hillside, I made my way to Waitrose supermarket to buy a few necessities.

Fortunately, I followed in the same direction but turned right to go north, eating everything I had bought almost immediately. Despite feeling exhausted and weak, I continued my journey because I was itching to get away from the irritable Farringdon.

The Swan Inn, which was situated near a bridge that crossed the River Thames, was a popular destination for a diverse group of individuals. The establishment was known for its exceptional service and delectable cuisine. Sat outside with a beer on a windy Thames path and enjoyed a beer.

I walked to Clanfield and watched the sunset to end the night.