Day sixteen – Meon Springs to Exton

Day sixteen – Meon Springs to Exton 

“Baabaa shop” 

Perhaps my only regret of the walk is that I didn't take a photo of the fishery I started at today.  The river stretched out beside me at an angle, the banks undulating with fishers dotted, evenly-spaced along it, each with their fishing rods hoping for a catch.   In the sunshine it truly looked like an image straight out of an aspirational magazine.  With time pressures and mindful that people may not like their photos being taken I hesitated and the opportunity passed. 

I climbed the hill with cyclists on my tail and they overtook just as I reached the brow.   At the top, in the field opposite were so many sheep that I momentarily got distracted.   There was a make-shift cafe too.  I crossed the road to look at the sheep and I heard one of the bikers tell someone on his phone that they would be riding on the road from here on.  I'm going to blame it on the power of suggestion, but I too started off down the road, interspersing my walking with photos of the sheep, however soon realised once the sheep field had run out that there was a path the other side of shrubbery for walkers to walk down so I had to retrace my steps to follow the right and safer route. 

Weirdly, once I crossed the road farther down and re-entered the countryside, I heard my name being called from the other side of the vegetation in a familiar sounding voice.   Either someone had the same name as me or I was hearing things! 

I joined a track with a sign that pointed to a hill fort.  There was a wooden notice that had been carved with a butterfly and animals and the like, but it was so weathered they were hard to make out. 

When I reached what I felt must be the hill fort, in other words,  a prominent mound, there were some men up on top with filming gear so I felt reluctant to photograph it,  however I did so from a distance later on. 

From the fort onwards, bleating from numerous – and I mean numerous – sheep filled the airwaves in surround sound.  It was like listening to a barber shop,  only with several hundred backing singers!  Baa baa – BAA BAA – BAA baa – baa baa – baa baa -baa baa – BAAAAA! 

I passed again glorious fields of yellow flowers, then made my way down a track where I would let a cyclist past who assured me there were two more behind her.   All I can say is thank goodness I didn't wait for them before moving on!   About 20 minutes later, sure enough, two cyclists arrived, but they were miles behind the original.  She was long gone!  I wondered if she realised how far behind her fellow riders were. 

At the bottom there was a bridge but no stream and a fallen part of a tree spanning the same dry river bed.  I walked the length of the log to one side and back, managing to keep my balance and then crossed via the bridge.   

Next, I came across an old railway bridge, which had a sign with the name Exton Shoe on it,  the distance to Exton and the following quote:  Spilling a beer is the adult equivalent to losing a balloon.  I later found out that Exton’s inn is called The Shoe, so wondered whether this sign had been put there by the owners to direct people to their premises.       

The path for the walkers following this became probably the worst it’s been along the whole walk.   Huge tree stumps were in the middle of the narrow path and these trees had clearly only recently been felled.   It must have been a real trial to squeeze through before! 

A little farther along the path and I heard trilling coming from the bank beside me. Looking over I saw a female duck.  The bank was actually an overgrown ditch and although I couldn't see them, the duck moved towards the sounds indicating to me there were baby ducklings in amongst the vegetation.  She was a mother. 

Soon after a bridge passed over a river which would continue alongside me into Exton where there would be a lovely picturesque space just out of reach through a private gate.  A bit like the secret garden, only I never got the key!  Still, I admired from my side. 

On route to this spot I came across the village’s millennium tree which personally I found a little random.  It was on the edge of a carpark in amidst everything else on the verge, all alone.  It was red in colour and boxed in with fencing, displaying a sign which implored: Please protect.  I'm glad they planted one, but I would have just expected it on a village green or somewhere prominent in the village on display.         

Exton itself is an interesting and beautiful village.  The houses and gardens are gorgeous, in some cases with lovely features.  I did however see more of the village than I was supposed to as the sign was so set back and overgrown that I missed it the first time round!  I noticed during my time there that a local was a sir, so I assume there are some very eminent people connected with the village too. 

A lovely place to finish the day.