Back on the trail, Mont took the usual route and we walked up the hill to the next (and highest) reservoir. This involves negotiating an extremely stony path which always makes my feet feel fantastic. At one time, this sort of surface would have been unbearable, but now it's a joy to walk on - almost as good as railway gravel <g>

When we reached the top, it was my turn to pick a new route and this time Mont didn't object (lucky me). Instead of following the "proper" footpath which changes from dirt to lime at this point and turns slightly inland, we followed a trail which more closely follows the water's edge. This isn't used much and only a few yards further on I was squeezing past densely packed holly trees with my raincoat as a sort of shield. Of course, I had no protection for my feet and avoiding getting my face scratched meant I could do little to watch where I stepped. Let me tell you, walking barefoot on layers of last year's holly leaves is one interesting experience (not painful, exactly, because the ground was soft after the rain, but interesting). Fortunately, this was only a short stretch and I paused for a moment to pull off the spiky leaves that were adhering to my soles. I also got one bramble thorn from that stretch, the business end of which I didn't get out 'til this afternoon. Luckily it was at the front edge of my heel so it wasn't painful (in fact I didn't even know it was still there 'til I did a standard inspection later at home).

The rest of this path was relatively innocuous, though a bit stony where the waterline had receded during the dry spell. I stopped to watch a caterpillar climbing a tree 'til Mont got upset that it was too high for him to see.

We met our second (and final) walker where the trail rejoined the main path at the small wooden bridge over one of the streams which feed the reservoir. He was a lone hiker, complete with backpack and hundred quids' worth of hiking boots. I must admit, I love meeting "properly" dressed hikers when I'm barefoot - it gives me a real feeling of superiority ;-)= This one acknowledged my "Hello" and continued on with a bewildered expression while Mont gave him a warning glare.

Mont and I continued across the path and took another detour through the trees along more marvellous wet earth, but still no mud to speak of although there were a couple of really slippery places. One of these took my legs from under me but at least I had the consolation, as I picked myself up, of seeing a couple of skid marks where someone in hiking boots had done exactly the same thing. So much for modern technology. I stayed upright the rest of the way until Mont decided to head off back to the main path. He looked at me for permission and I sighed and nodded before following him downhill through the thick, soaking wet grass and bluebells (now, sadly, past their best of two weeks ago when the woods were a carpet of blue). This trip resulted in my second disagreement with gravity due to the steepness of the incline, but I finally made it to the path in one piece and with enough grass between my toes to make a pair of sandals!

The descent brought us to the main path which, for most of the two or three miles circuit, is packed lime and scattered stones. The stretch Mont had brought us to was the stoniest stretch and takes some care to avoid painful contact between stones and instep. This path terminates at the top of the last reservoir and joins a wooden footway (it might almost qualify as a boardwalk), which spans the far edge of the reservoir and is generally over water for most of its length. This is still the case, though the water level is dropping enough for dogs like Mont to stroll underneath it for some of the way. At the opposite end, the lime path resumes and follows the opposite edge of the reservoirs back towards the village. Naturally, we detoured and set off through the wet grass among the trees. This is another little used trail and the route has been largely blocked since soon after Christmas when forestry work left a lot of debris across the path. We hadn't used it since then and, by now, a rudimentary alternative has begun to form along the route of a small stream.

We followed this, with Mont as pathfinder, and at last came upon a stretch of reasonable mud where the stream had broken its banks slightly. It was barely ankle deep, but this is the first time this year I've been able walk in mud which wasn't close to freezing. It was a religious experience <g> but better was to come.

Part 3