Day 1: Hockering to Ashill 19 miles

Another year, another heatwave. It must mean it’s time for another walk. What started out as one walk became three and now has extended to four (or possibly five). Welcome to the HoStwalk!

This is the first half of a walk from Hockering to St David’s Head, suggested by our friend Yvonne (though Richard claims he was thinking of it already). The putative fifth leg is the HoDowalk, Hockering to Dover, but that’s for another time, if ever.

The morning begins with the usual pre-departure ennui. Have we forgotten insect repellent? Have we got enough naproxen? Any number of excuses to delay walking out of the front door. It’s hot though, with a red weather warning, so we can’t leave it too long.

We finally go, taking a route through Hockering wood that we had originally intended on the HoCWalk, but were thwarted by forestry works. The wood is damp and humid, as it rained overnight, and the stinging nettles are out in full force.

We are heading west then north on a route that should be heading south west. This is because extensive roadworks to build the new A47 have cut Hockering off from our neighbouring villages south of the current A47. We can’t retrace the beginning of any of the previous three walks. The roadworks have obliterated them. They also mean we have to take a significant dog leg to reach a route across the road.

We reach the end of the wood and find the gate padlocked. Rich shimmies over but the bars are wet and slippery, so I squeeze through the gaps in between. We head out onto the road turning left then right into the driveway of White House Farm, following the course of one of my runs before the roadworks. It’s already hot and set to exceed 30 degrees with over 50% humidity.

Rich spots a dilapidated, partially concealed stile on the left. We hope it’s not a portent of things to come. We are quite excited to take this route as it’s a local footpath that we’ve never used before; we soon discover why. It starts off a bit overgrown and soon exits onto a track where we see our first hare of the walk. We can’t identify any path across the accompanying field however. It’s all knee to waist high scrub. We have no option to cross it. It’s mostly dog daisies and giant clover so, although it’s hard on the thighs, it’s reasonably passable. We even flush out a beautiful young roe deer.

The stile into the next field does have a footpath sign but it’s impassable from a hawthorn thicket. We suspect the path’s not been much used for years. We can at least go round the bottom of the hedge and identify the gap into Poppy’s Wood as it has a helpful, misspelled deterrent sign.

Poppy’s Wood is a hidden away popular local dog-walking area. We know it from taking Tom to cub and scout wide games there. Wide games are outdoor group activities comprising team games, such as working together to locate objects or finding hidden team members that take place over a large area. We leave the wood onto the road and finally turn left to cross the A47. We’ve been going for an hour and a half, and are only a couple of miles from home as the crow flies.

Despite crossing the dual carriageway, we are still in North Tuddenham, as it’s a sprawling village bisected by the road. We turn right then left and bridge the River Tudd for the first of three times. We climb the hill and eventually turn right towards Clippngs Green. I tell Rich I feel like we’re making progress as we have finally left my run route. He’s just relieved we’ve turned away from the mound of pig manure.

We pass through the small village and pick up on a track which is thankfully clear. We decide to have a break just before the road, as it’s shady and breezy and we’re starting to overheat. At least the chocolate isn’t melted.

We soon return to a more normal temperature and set off up the road towards Etling Green. While we’re on the road, I get a WhatsApp from a friend who’s just got engaged, which is rather lovely. We turn off down a track to another White House Farm and then down a pretty footpath to Yaxham. Things are looking up and the terrain is much improved.

We emerge onto the B1135 then turn off towards Shipdham, one of our possible lunch spots. As we cross the level crossing, Rich asks if we can stop. He feels as if he is overheating. We sit in the shade by the side of the road and revise our lunch plans. It’s not even the hottest part of the day yet. Once he has recovered, we continue along the road to the tiny hamlet of Westfield. It has a pretty little church, where we stretch out on the grass for lunch.

It’s soon back onto the road again and when we reach a crossroads in the centre of the hamlet, we take a track on the right the leads us up to the A1075. We cross and go onto a footpath that appears to run over a large rabbit warren. It is also infested with brambles. If you watch the brambles, you fall in the holes and, if you avoid the holes, you are snared by thorns.

The footpath then opens onto a field of oil seed rape that has not been harvested. Nor has a footpath been cleared through it. We have no choice but to yomp through it. Richard pushes the stems out of his way. I hold my sunhat down against my sunglasses and use my forearms, body and shins as battering rams. Both methods are equally frustrating and exhausting but both are effective. After what seems an eternity, we reach the end of the crop, only to cross a deep stinger filled ditch to reach a nettle filled track. This opens out onto a metalled road and we make better progress, though the blood from our scratches attracts the horseflies. More road then a rather nicer path and we arrive in Shipdam, which seems to have a number of uninhabited, apparently derelict houses.

The first shop we arrive at is closed, but the next is open and air-conditioned. It stocks a somewhat eclectic range of soft drinks and we each buy a pint of ice cold coconut water (it tastes strangely like Kellogg’s Fruit and Fibre if you’re interested). We drink this quickly, then stop of at The Golden Dog pub for another pint, this time of orange juice and tonic. They don’t have tonic or soda, so we have orange juice and lemonade. And very nice it is too. Unfortunately, I shed oil seed rape pods all over the floor. Rich picks them and other vegetation out of his socks.

We soon turn off the A1075, and follow a long, straight road to Saham Waite. This time it’s me who’s flagging badly. A good track takes us to another long, straight road and I continue to lag behind.

Finally, we leave the horseflies behind and turn into Ashill village complete with a beautiful village green and the famous duck pond. We arrive at The White Hart, our stop for the night. They’re not serving food, so it’s delivery pizza, but the shower feels like heaven.

Total distance: 19 miles