Well that was a particularly mellow BaM thanks to Mr Picton. Nothing spectacular, fairly aimless, around “gently undulating” countryside (Copyright 2019 R Picton again, although in this case he was actually here, and this time it actually
was gently undulating).
Arrived at Atherstone station at 11am. It’s quite cute, with a couple of small platforms separated by trains thundering past on the main lines. Crossed under the line to await Pickers, and here he is trying not to bang his head on the world’s lowest railway bridge.
The town has quite a nice High Street, with a proper ironmonger’s and everything. What it also has is a proper baker too, and perusing the window display I noticed some gigantic cherry turnover things for £1! Nothing like an impulse buy!
There was no route plan, other than trying to find the next-nearest amusing (well, amusing to two old fools who are easily driven to sniggering behind their hands at the slightest provocation) place name or landscape feature, or indeed any juicy off-road tracks of which there didn’t seem to be that many so we’d have to weave all over the countryside trying to bag them all.
Our first port of call was just outside Atherstone and in typical RegRich fashion was a river feature in the middle of a field, by the name of King Dick’s Hole. We gradually homed in on it and the nearest lane took us into what looked like a private manor house. But no “Private” signs so in we go! We had to go through the yard to get to the river and there we met a lorry driver who asked us if we knew where we were. “Nope”. “Me neither” he opined, trying to do 100-point turn to get out again. Under cover of the lorry we nipped through the yard into a field which overlooked the river – the best we could manage without risking Trespassers Will collaring us.
It’s only as I’m typing this that I’ve just realised, as we’ll see later, that the actual King Dick is a big man in these parts so it’s not just a made-up name. The field appeared to be an empty caravan-site. It had a luxury loo, and as all BBB-ers know when a loo is on offer take it immediately because you never know where the next suitable hedge will be.
Checking the map we noticed a nice bit of off-road track a couple of miles away, which fortuitously took us through a hamlet called Ratcliffe Culey, 2nd curious name of the day.
Oh look, there’s a pub! Bit early but.. go on then. Through the gate into the garden, park the bikes, and Reg goes back out of the gate to find the front door. At which point Mrs Pub flies out of the
back door with two enormous dogs shouting “we’re not open, can’t you read?”. Well, there’s cars in the carpark and the lights are on, so we assumed… “It’s written on the door!!!”. I haven’t
got to the door yet so how do I know what the times are! Back into the garden I trudge, and we collect the bikes to try and leave via the other back gate. “Don’t open the gate!!! The dogs’ll get out!”. Eh? You’ve just told us to leave! “OK ‘bye, see you again never”. Tch.
Half way along the track is a ford which, er, isn’t a ford even though there’s water flowing on either side. After another suspicious local had screamed down on their quad-bike to check us out, we sat down and partook of our delicious turnovers. They were bigger than our heads!
A nice green lane brought us to the Ashby Canal, with its well-signposted attractions….
Next stop, the Bosworth Battlefield. This was actually extremely interesting, with lots of information about how King (Dick) Richard III (Rich3rd?) was defeated by a band of rebels in 1485 at the last significant War Of The Roses and starting the reign of the Tudors.
We deserved a pint after absorbing all that culture so a quick one was imbibed in Market Bosworth giving us a chance to find the next track and curious placename – which turned out to be Belcher’s Bar reachable via a track with another ford. This one actually had some water in it! We all love a good ford don’t we? ‘Course we do. Unfortunately Belcher’s Bar had no name boards so we hope this map scan counts.
Doubling back on ourselves, and crossing over the road we’ve travelled on earlier brought us to an easy score, for 3 points: Barton in the Beans!
Along a couple more tracks then back down onto the Ashby Canal again. The thing about canals is, it used to be thirsty work for the boat people. Oh look, there’s another pub! Well it would be rude not to. At this point Rich uttered the words we always await with trepidation as the day approaches late afternoon on our trips – “quite nice here isn’t it?”. “NOOOOOO, Rich, we can’t stop to bivvy yet it’s only 4 o’clock!”. Poor old Pickers, dragged away unceremoniously, although we now swapped over to his 1:50 map for the Ashby area so he could choose or veto any new tracks or placenames; I couldn’t resist this one though…
We had no idea where we were going to bivvy but it seemed an idea to go via Ashby de la Zouch, because a/ we needed to tick the name off, b/ there’d be some shops, and c/ there’d be, er, some pubs. The route to get there is a bit hazy in my memory now but I remember getting completely lost in a massive solar panel farm (“a maze of twisty little panels all alike”…), and also a curious set of signs on a track one after the other getting increasingly shrill about an upcoming crossing of some sort: “Beware lorries crossing”… “DANGER. Lorries crossing 24 hours a day”…”DO NOT CROSS WITHOUT CHECKING BOTH WAYS ON PAIN OF DEATH”… etc. Then after no change to the track or landscape whatsoever, looking back and seeing the same signs in reverse order. All very strange. On reflection, a remnant of the large number of coal mines and opencast sites in the area. Yes, we’d now left Pretty Countryside and entered the Derbyshire/Leicestershire Coalfield.
The less said about Ashby de la Zouch and its pubs the better I suppose, after which we headed off to Pickers’ choice of bivvy spot in a nearby forest. On the way there I spotted a sign for a visitor centre so we veered off towards it, experiencing one of the most pronounced and abrupt temperature changes I’ve ever felt. As we headed down into a valley the warmth disappeared instantaneously and was swapped for some very chilly air indeed. Then up the other side, suddenly it was like stepping from a freezer into a sauna!
On the face of it, it was a nice spot, but shortly after “lights out” we discovered that it was close to a/ a very large kennels, and b/ what sounded like a 24-hour gravel-washing works; oh, and c/ directly under the take-off path from East Midlands Airport! Hmm. Rummage, rummage… ooh, look! Some earplugs! I’m glad they’re always top of
my packing list anyway
.
I didn’t quite get the Gatewood pitch right, and it also seemed to suffer from massive condensation even though we were in some saplings and up fairly high, so my bag got a little damp. Still, a nice breakfast put things right, after which Pickers took us off for a tour of the park lake.
We had a shorter journey back to Atherstone but unfortunately, apart from filtering the lake, there was no water at the visitor centre. A few nice tracks brought us to the village of Measham, which then led to the strange sight of a couple of cyclists dodging in and out of parks, houses, pub yards, churches etc in a most furtive manner. It was only as we were leaving the village that I spotted a large graveyard. Bingo! Never fails.
Re-joining the Ashby Canal for the umpteenth time we passed a superbly gothic building which turned out to be a Victorian water pumping station. Surprisingly not for the canal, but to supply Hinckley 14 miles away with water from an old mine shaft. This was already 500’ feet deep and was extended by another 300’ to tap the underground water.
Further lanes and tracks allowed us to tick off a few more interesting names… oohhh dear, it’s all gone a bit “Viz” now….
A final long track across remote fields brought us back more or less to Atherstone, but a slight diversion allowed us to collect one last goodie, at Sheepy Magna:
I’ll finish off with a shot of the rather impressive Atherstone railway station with its beautiful brickwork, chimneys, finials and twiddly bits.
Thanks again for Pickers for his excellent company, over to you for some further wacky place names!
9/9, 9/12, 56/56
‘Reg’
I eventually stopped at the first flat spot after the range. Picture taken in the morning.
. There is a great spot on the founds of a subsidiary building just above the main lodge - level and dry.
.