Another very short walk - to Elton village

Despite being on a supposedly do-nothing break in a riverside cabin, in the late afternoon we decided to head out on a short walk to the village. Now, I know some people who talk of a short walk as being 5 or 6 miles, but I know my limits (or thought I did) and this was about a mile and a half. Should have been easy... 

Picking up a footpath which ran literally outside our door, we headed over a footbridge and a tricky (for me) stile onto the island created by an ox-bow lake which gave the property we were staying on its name. 

Another, larger, metallic, bridge took us over the river Nene, to join the Nene Valley Way which led us south towards Elton.

It was a pretty amble along the riverside. The sun was shining. The path was flat. All good so far.

It wasn't long before we caught sight of where we were staying on the opposite bank

A bridge took a road over us, and although it would have been possible to return at this point, we continued to follow the path by the river with glimpses of the village ahead of us. I was beginning to wonder if I'd bitten off more than I could manage.

The Nene runs beside Elton, rather than through it, but after strolling beside a quite river, there was suddenly a lot of activity. Another bridge! I like encountering bridges on walks; somehow they make everything seem more of an adventure.

A weir, and a lock to raise and lower boats.

And an old abandoned mill from times when Elton and the river would have been busy and bustling.

I'd been dragging my feet for a while and at this point I realised how much I'd over-exerted myself. 

Fortunately there was a seat by the village green, and I just sat for a while and tried to regain some energy. Approaching from the river we'd seen very little of the village and I would have liked to explore more but there was no way I could. There were also footpaths carrying on in various directions - following the Nene way across the parkland of Elton Hall or heading west across field to Fotheringay and the remains of the castle where Mary Queen of Scots was executed. These would have to be plans for a return visit, as for now it was tiring enough to get back to our cabin. 

Slowly, very slowly, we headed back, looking at flowers in the roadside gardens, watching a red kite circling overhead. Fortunately the distance back was slightly shorter than the 'out' route but two kilometers in all but I was absolutely shattered. Some of this is due to lack of exercise following my fall at New Year; some is post-covid exhaustion. Whatever the cause, I hope I improve soon

 

Peace Comes Dropping Slow

 I've never been one to lounge in the sun by a pool, so my holidays are normally spent doing things - visiting castle ruins, or stately homes and their gardens, and although I'm not a long distance hiker I do like a gentle forest trail, or an amble along the coastal path. For a long while though I've been wanting to try a different sort of break, one where I stop rushing around, and just relax.  You would think perhaps that's there plenty of opportunity to sit around doing nothing at home once you're retired, but I find there's always something - laundry, gardening, whatever - that catches my eye and demands to be done. 

With Covid having left me drained and erratically exhausted, the idea of taking a day or two to just relax was especially appealing. When an email about riverside cabins arrived from Canopy and Stars, it seemed fortuitous. I've been ogling their website for years - dreaming of staying in a wooden hut in an orchard, or an isolated stone cottage dwarfed by surrounding mountains - and my youngest daughter had given us an IOU for such a break. This seemed like the moment to follow that dream. 

An important aspect of our choice was to find somewhere not too far away; neither of us felt up to travelling far, and certainly didn't want to spend the majority of time in the car. We picked The Arc, a cabin in the grounds of Island House by the river Nene in Cambridgeshire - a ninety minute drive, far enough to way to feel like a holiday, near enough to take our time on the journey and still arrive mid-afternoon. 

I always feel a little trepidation when arriving at a holiday cottage but I can't imagine a place that would have been more perfect, both inside and out. 

Inside, the Arc is furnished with a mix of industrial chic and faded opulence - metal kitchen worktop and basic taps with a squashy sofa, fabric-covered shutters, a hand-painted bedstead, small vases of flowers, and a cake to welcome us. So quirky and charming.

There were even throws that matched my favourite striped cardigan!

Stepping out onto the verandah though was the moment when the idyllic peace of the place washed over me. By luck as much as judgement, I'd found exactly what I was looking for; somewhere where as on Yeats' Lake Isle of Innisfree, 'peace comes dropping slow'

 So I flopped into one of the comfy chairs (not the hammock;I'd never have got back out), and listened to bees, children playing nearby, and the birds further away. Even the distant drone from the A1 somehow added to the immediate peacefulness. I could happily have sat there till night fell, but decided to tale a very short walk to see the sunset by the river.

The next day started, rather late, with tea out on the verandah, watching butterflies and birds fluttering about, followed by a amble to the sunhouse on a slight rise by the river.

Here, there were books to browse through, and paints, crayons, and sketchpads to encourage artistic expression, so I fetched my own from my bags and tried to capture the atmosphere. I think the stillness required for drawing focuses your attention on the moment, encourages you to just watch the breeze in the trees and the river flowing by, and absorb the peace and quiet.

Late in the afternoon we took a walk by the river to the nearby village of Elton. Though short and pleasant, it still proved to be too much for me, so then it was back to the cabin (just before rain fell) and a game of Scrabble. 

I wondered if, in part, I'd been influenced by the fact that the weather had been wonderful for our stay, but heavy rain fell overnight and the next morning was drizzly. Stepping out onto the verandah, that all-pervading feeling of tranquility was still there. No butterflies or bees, and the birds seemed more subdued, but it did't take away the peacefulness, which with the dampness really did come 'dropping slow'.

I'm so grateful that my daughter encouraged me to take these couple of days. The whole experience was a delight. I came home refreshed and feeling more like 'myself' than I have since having Covid. I'd like to return to The Arc sometime - to relax, and to explore the area a little more - but I'm also eager to try other Canopy and Stars or similar properties to see if they hold the same magic.

More about Canopy and Stars generally  here and The Arc specifically here

Houghton Mill

 The last stop, and last National Trust cake, of our few days away was at Houghton Mill on the river Ouse, near Huntingdon (although both now lie in Cambridgeshire) 

The mill itself, the last-remaining working one on the river Ouse, is open for visitors but by pre-booked tour only and we hadn't bothered to enquire as we were really looking for a gentle riverside walk and that all important tea and cake.

And so we ambled alongside the river, past the locks and upstream through nice flat water-meadows, looking at boats, ducks and swans, and enjoying the blue sky, sunshine, and first really warm day of Spring.

There are longer walks that can be taken in the area - up or downstream to Huntingdon or St Ives, or across the flood plain to the villages of Hemingford Abbots and Hemingford Grey - but for this occasion a short walk was enough. 

 

Anglesey Abbey

Anglesey Abbey in Cambridgeshire is a National Trust property known mainly, I feel, for its early spring snowdrop displays. Really to catch them we should have visited earlier in the year; by March, particularly with such warm weather, it was getting a little late, although we did still find some flowering in shady areas.

Anyway, you can't design a winter garden around just snowdrops, and there were other things to see  - hellebores, early daffodils, dogwoods, scented daphnes, and cherries and birches grown for the beauty of their bark; altogether a lot of inspiration for my own garden, if only I had space for any more shrubs and trees.

 

Not every winter day is going to have as stunningly blue sky as this one, but these silver birches would look wonderful whatever the weather; vivid in the sun, ghostly on duller days.

A gateway leads on to a more natural-feeling woodland, then the path meanders to the Lode Mill.

Eventually we found our way to the house, and then beyond to more tree-lined walks. 

Unfortunately, some of the gardens in this area, and a herbaceous garden we'd passed earlier, were closed to preserve the grass which was a little disappointing as, even if the flower borders here weren't at their best, a glimpse of them would have been better than nothing. For National Trust members living locally it's easy enough to return and see how the seasons unfold; for visitors from a distance it's not so simple, and maybe a better way way needs to be found to balance public access and gardening needs.