Day eighteen - A272 to Winchester way marker

Day eighteen - A272 to Winchester way marker 

“And I would walk 100 miles, and I would walk 100 more... but maybe not just yet!” 

This was my last day planned of walking, but I was a little on edge that the state of my feet would ruin the run of consecutive days right at the final leg.  

I started by following the sign that pointed left,  but the path soon split into two, one going straight on,  the other curving left.   Two cyclists who I'd assumed were doing the South Downs Way went left after discussing it within my ear shot.   I thought it was straight on and I could see a post further on,  but I dithered not wanting to jeopardise finishing by walking farther than was needed.  When I saw another cyclist coming towards me I thought I must check with him that it was the South Downs Way, however he said I should have gone straight on, right back at the start and indeed, when I checked the phone it appeared so...that was until I'd walked back.  To cut the story short, I had been right initially and cost myself even more walking in the long run!  On my way back however, I met a couple hesitating with a map book at the same junction too.  They went left, then watched me and cut across the grass.  The ‘hard left’ which was in their book, was indeed hard as the angle was acute.  I assured them, having been down to the signpost that this was the South Downs Way.    

I already knew an event was on today as I'd heard the words of the commentator drifting over the air and I'd guessed it might be motocross, however now, as I neared ever closer, the buzz of the bikes became clear and resembled perfectly a colony of bees swarming.  Before long I could make out the white sea of camper vans on the horizon.  In fact there were tents too, but as I walked between the fields of motorhomes, I was astonished at the quantity –  I didn't know so many people owned these home-away-from-homes.  I did however spot a dirt bike tucked just inside an opening as I walked by, confirming what I suspected, though the noise was loud now so there was little doubt remaining. 

Farther on down the track, there were exit signs bordering the road.  I considered myself fortunate that it was not turning out time as this road would be gridlocked, yet I only encountered one car.  Also, to my delight, I was able to get a distant sighting of the motocross from this viewpoint.  I stood and watched the miniature scene for a few minutes, bikes rushing along and flying thorough the air in sequence around the looped, mud track. 

I continued on my way and exchanged watching motorbikes for a quad bike.  The farmer was collecting his cows and herding them through the gate, over the road and into the opposite field.   I caught up with the farmer just as he reeled in the barriers he'd placed over the road to halt the traffic.  He was asking them to wait an extra 5 minutes, but it was alright for me to go on my way.   We had a short chat, in which he mentioned it was busy today because of the motocross.  I wondered whether it was his land on which the racing was taking place. 

I passed a field at the top of the slope that had what looked like uncarved totems in it.  They looked like telegraph poles, but not regular in shape, rather, like a tree trunk without bark or branches.  I don't know whether there was a purpose to them or whether they were just old trees that were never fully cut down, perhaps so the farmer didn't miss the stumps when driving machinery. 

After a short stint through some trees,  I came across a QR code.  “Morn Hill Teleport”, the title proclaimed.   I took a photo and was disappointed to find myself still in the same place.   Perhaps if I'd used the correct app things would have been different, but then I wouldn't have been able to finish my walk!  In hindsight, I guess teleport is a pretty accurate description of what QR codes do, just in the digital world rather than the real.   

Immediately following this, I was at Cheesefoot Head, a naturally formed bowl-shape in the landscape which in June 1944 was used as a natural amphitheatre for General Eisenhower to address the troops before they departed for the D-Day invasion.  It is thought that my grandfather was here at the time.  If so, I was in the same place as him, in the same month, 77 years later.     

I crossed the road and followed the path through and alongside some wheat fields, one of which had another natural looking mound at it's edge, that was unable to be planted.  I considered it may be another burial mound.  Down in the lowlands however was something much more modern: A marquee the size of a building and some satellite dishes.   The two seemed so juxtaposed, one layered in front of the other. 

As I started descending the hill,  I noticed an odd phenomenon going on with the edge of the field.   The wheat bordering the field was yellow-green in colour and the rest of the field’s crop was orange-green.  There was a distinct difference between the two, although they appeared in every other way to be the same variety.  It wasn't even like when farmers leave a border of wildflowers to help the environment, because this strip outlining the rest was only a couple of feet wide.  I can think of explanations, but none that seem particularly viable.  It was so uniform too.  It remains a mystery! 

As I carried on down I wondered whether it was Winchester, my destination, that I could see in the lowlands and considered how soon I would be finishing this 100 mile walk. 

Once at the bottom, I passed a wedding, with a pretty painted sign which had directed the guests there earlier this morning. 

I crossed the motorway via the bridge and finally entered Winchester.  There were no signs here, except for one just before the river pointing back the way I had just come for those walking in the other direction.  I was glad I had memorized the route before I left this morning, else I would never have been able to follow the correct way. 

The river was absolutely lovely.   There was a swan exciting a little boy with his family and the water rippled and glinted in the sunlight, on both sides to begin with and then just to my right farther on.  There was a pretty wooden bridge spanning the Itchen with plant growth decoratively naturalising it.  It truly was a picturesque place to be and walk alongside.  

The buildings in Winchester were beautiful and historic too, the City Mill being the most important to me on this trip, however.  Here, just outside the door, lies the final way marker of the South Downs way.  The only trouble was, with the mill being shut, I was unable to get too close due to the cast iron gates being padlocked shut.  This was a disappointment, but I took some photos all the same.   There may not have been the union and Hampshire flag, but I liked the fact it was bedecked with bunting, as if in celebration.