Chapter 2: Ancient Paths to The Land of the North Folk

Tues 6th June 2023

Day 4: Chrishall to Brinkley
(Approx 21 miles – Red Lion Inn Camping

Slept right through pretty much, and had strange vivid dreams. Come morning, the weather was overcast again, and I thought I heard the sound of rain on the tent

Because affordable accommodation was scarce, it would be a long stretch to reach my next campsite. So the first order of the day was to sort out my feet and make my pack comfortable

Compeed, a silicone patch to protect the top of my toe, and a pack of tissues to pad out my ankle. Used my old boot lace to cinch in my shoulder straps, and voila

My poor trusty old boots will need to hang up their laces and retire after this trip. Super lightweight, and unlike my hiking shoes, they don’t smell after a hike. But the padding on these has worn thin, and the stitching is now digging into my feet

Decamping sharpish, I set off at 7am, spooning muesli in my face as I walked… in comfort. The route passed through Chrishall and Elmdon, which my guide says is a ‘nice village’, and on to Greater Chesterford

It was cold weather today. The area around Heydon is quite high up, and it was pretty cold walking over exposed barley fields. The paths were very similar to yesterday, with additional byways

I came across what I think was a dismembered badger leg. Then I thought, what kind of creature kills and eats a badger? I walked on, a little faster

I must say, I’m not feeling ‘enchanted’ by the Icknield Way. It might be over 5000 yrs old, and it’s great that so much work has been done to make it a walking trail. But much of the original footprint has been lost to the modern world. I might be walking through history, but there are few signs of it.

Greater Chesterford, for example, was a walled town and an important military fort in Roman times. But there are no visible signs now.

A long stretch to Linton, my mantra to keep me going: ‘every day I’m getting lighter and lighter, every day I’m getting stronger and stronger’.

Gradually munching my way through my pack weight. Yesterday I also sent some unnecessary stuff back home. It’s all accumulated weight. I felt like I had turned a corner in my fitness today. Until the miles started to mount, then my fitness did a U-turn

The pub in Linton provided much-needed respite, food, and coffee. But the baked spud may have been a step too far. All that carb made me crash

The name Linton is of Saxon origin, meaning ‘Flax Town’. Linton village and its surroundings are rich in archaeological remains of all periods

Leaving Linton, the trail gradually climbs up to Rivey Hill with its fine water tower. After that, one of my guides described the stretch from Linton as dull. I would agree: it’s an interminable trudge along byways of packed chalk and stone.

Just before Balsham, the Icknield Way joins a Roman Road (Via Devana) for a short way before turning off. It used to run from Colchester to Cambridge and beyond to Godmanchester. Now, the A1307 and A14

According to wiki, Balsham has quite the history. In 1015, Balsham was totally destroyed by Viking raiders. A sign on the village green commemorates the sole survivor of the attack, who escaped by hiding in the parish church

The village church apparently has a 13th-century tower and a 400-year-old bell.

Not far from Balsham, I came across Tom, sitting on a grass verge, looking rather forlorn. I asked how he was, and he said he was tired. I felt Tom’s pain. He was running from Norwich along the Icknield Way. There’s always someone more bonkers than you. He reported Narrow paths, overgrown with nettles; he had scratches to prove it

He had run from Stetchworth and had 15 more miles to go before 9 PM. I felt relieved that I would be lying face down in my tent by then. Poor Tom, I hope he got safely to his destination

I was trying not to count the miles, and my spirits were sinking. I waited for the pub coffee to kick in, but it didn’t. Well, it wasn’t holy coffee, and I think the baked potato soaked it all up

With little to distract my mind from my aching feet and fatigue, I dissociated for much of the final miles. And prayed that the sun didn’t come out to add to the discomfort.

I would have given anything for a blade of grass to walk upon or a farmer to be passing to give me a lift

Finally 5.50 pm, I staggered into the Red Lion. I had been emailing Morris, the host, and although it was closed on a Tuesday, he let me stay. He wanted to regale me about his terrible computer day. I just wanted to get off my feet.

After putting up the tent, I ate and fell into a deep sleep