trekked on down past Tyrley Locks and Woodseaves Cutting. The cutting
is just that, a cutting right through a hill to let the canal through,
kind of like a tunnel with the top off. The towpath is muddy because
the sunlight doesn't get down to dry it out. It's a bit like a man-
made canyon and kind of spooky in an Indiana Jones kind of way. Pity
I lost my fedora on the bus up to Thurso.
At midday I reached a little place called Goldstone and crossed the
river to the Wharf Tavern to fill up my water bag and iPhone battery.
It had only just openned and I had a chat with Alex behind the bar who
had recently done a mammoth tour of the english waterways by kayak.
He outlined his journey and I realised that two weeks ago I wouldn't
have known what he was talking about but now I could visualise his
route pretty clearly. Anyway Alex was able to give me navigational
advice for my own ongoing tour. So thanks for that, Alex, and for the
good strong tea.
The Wharf seems a popular lunchtime spot and Alex got busier with the
older ladies and couples ordering food so I got going again.
And then it happened. At about 1pm JRT (Joe Running Time) I got my
mojo back. That's mojo as on Mo' Joe! And I was running strong
again. I ran some good miles that afternoon. Not flying miles,
digging miles. I mean it was hard work but I was back in the running
game.
By 8.30 I was at Wolverhampton with 30 miles done for the day. But I
kept going, walking again, and by the time I stopped for the night
just north of Wombourne I was another six miles down the road.
I couldn't find a decent place to camp. I did find a wood but there
were old campfires and empty bottles and cans around and I didn't want
a party arriving while I was asleep for the night so I gave it a
miss. Eventually I just pitched my tent by the towpath. In the dark
I misjudged how much of a slope I was on and when I lay down in the
tent I rolled downhill. After a pretty uncomfortable few hours I got
up at about 5.30 and got going.
Pretty soon it started to drizzle and gradually the drizzle turned to
rain. I was plodding along, weary and footsore. My feet have started
to blister. I think my shoes are beginning to disintegrate and rub
them up the wrong way. I had no food and I was out of water but it
was too early to find breakfast.
At one point I sat on a bench and fell asleep in the rain. I felt a
bit better when I woke up.
About 10am I found the little village of Kinver, thatched timber
framed buildings (at least some of them). A coffee shop was open (no
caffs in Kinver) and I had a big breakfast and some coffee cake.
At 11 I crossed the road to the pub to fill my water bag (there's a
whole story about the old bag who owns the coffee shop but never mind
that now).
It's almost noon and I'm about to get going again. It's overcast but
not raining at the moment. Worcester is 25 miles down the road. I
plan to get beyond that today.
More later.
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