Let's Play Find the Path!
I don't know why you can't see it.
The Two Saints Way isn’t just a canal path. Of course it’s not. In a country like England (yes, England. Where this walk takes place in its entirety. Even though Wales is almost across the street from the start), with its multiplicity of public footpaths and history of religious pilgrimages, of course there are parts of this pilgrimage that diverge from the canal.
This is also the part of the pilgrimage that made me most anxious. And glamorous, obviously. Never has a more elegant person trod these…tufts of grass. But anxious, and that’s what we’re here to talk about today.
Here is where I went on an urgent quest for a better clearer app for actually following the path. Google maps laughs in my farm field direction. A wifi connection? Don’t be absolutely ridiculous. We have cows here, not wifi. But still, I couldn’t see the path that I’m definitely on. Couldn’t see where it went, and my guesses based on slight impressions on the grass may be cow paths, or public footpaths, or trespassing.
No one knows.
Today’s the day I found the app Outdooractive, which actually has a marked route for the Two Saints Way. And it found me in the middle of the cow field.
Pasture.
How do you know you were raised in the country by city folk? You say things like cow field until you’re in your thirties and your Texan friends say, “You mean a pasture, Amy?”
Shut up, Caitlin. I mean cow field. You know. The field with cows in it. The cow field. Or pasture, if you’re fancy.
Anyway. Mid-field, I was able to download this app and find the path. And then I found the indicator of the path:
If you look closely, you can see the wires that keep the cows in their assigned fields. That stile is the public footpath. Hooray! Path found!
Today I’m heading to Crewe. It’s just down the road from Nantwich. Or across the field. Whatever. I don’t know why I’m looking forward to Crewe, but I am. It seems nice! But before I get there, there are fields to cross.
Several fields.
One time, I saw other people who didn’t appear to be farmers at the top of a hill. But then they went about their way, and I found that I was indeed on the Two Saints Way…heading across another couple of pastures.
Cow fields.
Whatever.
And then I got to the point where the Outdooractive route said go here, but there was a new and exciting closed (and locked) fence. Not a stile or turnstile in site! I wandered back and forth along a just-too-high stone wall for maybe 30 minutes trying to figure out how to get from here to there. Finally, I gave up and decided it was time to just climb the fence gate.
And then I saw the secret path on the far side of the field and committed. Climbed the gate…and then climbed back the other side because there’s a barely-visible route next to the wall, into the woodland overgrowth.
That…was my path. Overgrown. Wooded. Muddy but somehow still harder to find than the walk across the wide open spaces of the pastures.
And that, apparently, is a country walk! I thought I could do it when I saw the bull sign, walked anxiously around the edge of that field, and came out the other end into a suburb. Crossed the suburb and hit another stile. With a horse.
He’s a cute guy, that old horse in the turnstile, but he wouldn’t move.
If there’s an animal I’m afraid of, it’s horses. Not spiders, not really snakes, but horses. And this one wasn’t budging. I spent another 30 minutes looking for another way around, but when I went down the side paths and hedgerows, my app map couldn’t find me or a way back. So…I’m going to have to go back and convince the horse to move. But horses know when you’re afraid.
Seriously, I have lived around the world, travelled more places, and walked two much longer pilgrimages. Meanwhile a suburban horse is standing between me and St Chad. I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry. The bull in the last field didn’t gore me, this horse is possibly on its…last legs, if you will…I can do this. I can convince the horse to move.
Maybe I can trick him.
I pretended to walk away (he was definitely looking for an apple or a carrot or maybe a chocolate cake), and he followed me, on his side of the wall. And that’s all it took. I got through the turnstile.
He followed me without eating my hair or my face or biting my leg or whatever I imagined the horse would do…and his younger cousin came up to us! A human in the paddock! SNACKS! Dear god, Amy. I guess this pilgrimage is about facing your secret fears. But horse number two left when there were no treats forthcoming, and I was left with Grandpa Horse only. On the other side of the field I had to tell him to leave me alone so I could exit the other gate…and that’s where I saw the sign that said “Do Not Feed the Horses.”
Brilliant.
Love this, Amy. A great read.
I so enjoyed this! Particularly the part about the horse.
Speaking of which, after 15 years of working with mules, I finally got bit for the first time last week. I was due I suppose. It was Praline, the bitch of the barn. It seemed to come out of nowhere. She didn't break the skin, but she did leave me with a big bruise.
Glad your horse was nicer and hope all is well in Albania. Did you feel the earthquake? (Or are you in England. I was assuming this was a post from a previous pilgrimage, but I don't know.)