I'm sat here, doing little other than keep my
fingers moving in order to stay awake right now, and reading down, I fear, it's a long one.
There was little to write down yesterday, I went
to work, did my job, came home, then took everyone over to Shropshire for the
weekend, and Olive is now spending some time with her Nana and Dadpa.
So that is where I end up, typing a little yarn
out, propping my eyelids open through willpower alone, and little else.
I usually reserve the weekends for running, and
my calendar stated that I had to get 8km out of the way today, and 32.5km out
of the way tomorrow. Now, I'll be honest, while I know a lot of the area around
here, I'd be struggling a lot to try and find 20 miles to run, without getting
seriously lost. So, I came up with a compromise to myself before arriving, that
I would see how long it takes me to climb the Telford Wrekin (pronounced ree-kin),
from the door of my ladies Ma & Pa's, and back again.
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| Like a blot on the landscape, you cannot miss it |
The Wrekin is a haunt I tend to visit whenever
I'm up here; it's a lump of rock that sits in the middle of Shropshire, everything
around it is flat, but from atop its 406m elevation (1,335ft in old money), you
are alleged to be able to see up to 12 counties. Not a bad claim to fame, as
well as its supposed inspiration on J. R. R. Tolkien to write a small book you
may have heard of called The Lord of the Rings. They made a film about
it, don't you know. There's also some fable about how the Wrekin came to exist with
a Welsh giant who got perturbed by the folk of Shrewsbury, and pledged to carry
a load of dirt on a spade to block the river Severn, thus flooding the town. On
the way, he met some local cobbler, who outsmarted the giant not to go to
Shrewsbury, because he had a load of old shoes, and made out he used them all
getting from there to where they were. The giant, considering his options
decided to ditch said dirt where he was, and head off home again.
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| A picture speaks a thousand of my gibbering words |
Maybe I'm not the folk teller on the interweb.
Where was I? The Wrekin. It's a decent walk, has
a nice view, a couple of nice summit cairns, as well as some nice craggy edges
to it if you know where to look. In fact it's one of those small hills that can
have the feeling of something so much more. I've been up here in all
conditions, and I think today pretty much encompassed everything all at once.
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| Summit on a previous, and clearer winters day |
It started out a mere -5 C outside, and it didn't feel much colder on the
skin, but I headed out none-the-less, and soon warmed up as the pace began to
take a hold of itself (barring an episode of my water carrier emptying itslef on my back). There was nice light, and I was optimistic that I would
get away with this today, due to the forecasts of heavy snow overnight, and not during the day.
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| The easier approach heading West |
The route taken was one that I tend to drive;
over a few roundabouts of Malinslee; into Horsehay; then take the minor roads
towards Little Wenlock, and then towards the Wrekin itself. I tried to take a
footpath away from the 60mph roads, but the path wasn't clear, and I soon
decided it was easier to simply follow the road, being very wary as I went
along.
Approaching the Wrekin, I headed along another
footpath that brought me up the south side. It was here that I decided to head
to one of my favourite routes up. As I was running, this was a route that
offered a good excuse if I kind of stopped running. It is steep, you have to
see it to believe it. I recall getting trapped on here in a pure whiteout in
2ft of snow a couple of years back, scared I'd slide right off. As it were, my
pace up was probably a fast walking pace. I didn't stop, but I will certainly
feel it on the back of the hamstrings come the morrow. From the top, I had a
well earned rest. I couldn't see a thing in any direction, as the wind and snow
was hammering in from the South, I didn't hang around long. I headed East for the
more conventional ridge back down, and followed a path round to where I
joined the Wrekin at the beginning. I then used the roads all the way back
home. This was a little edgy, because the snow was beginning to settle and
become slippery. All about 12 hours earlier than reported. I ran down a hill in Little Wenlock, felt
sorry, and dare say, feared for the learner driver getting their first taste of
snow and hills. I got home in one piece in the end, felt good, and was happy I
didn't over exert myself.
The final time was 1 hour 57 mins 30 secs. That was 17.8km, which is approx 11 miles.
Slower than I would usually set, but given the
hill, a nice time all the same, below is the record of elevation on the route which I record using
MapmyRun. This makes me feel much better.
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| MapmyRun Elevation and Climb stats from the Wrekin |
The rest of the day has been spent rolling,
cooling, and re-rolling a puff pastry to go onto a game pie that I made. It was
the end of the game season this week, which tends to mark a turn to putting the
nice meat into something special. I must confess I am very carnivorous, but try
to stand by ethics, and do my best with choosing and cooking the meat I buy.
Whatever your opinions on hunting, I believe it is one of the best ways to know
where your food came from. I am more than prepared to do the 'nasty work', getting
my hands dirty, by preparing an animal in its entirety for the plate, and use
all parts I get out of it.
In this instance, it was Pheasant and Wild
Rabbit. I was hankering to put the Venison in there, but was told otherwise by
the others. On reflection, it was the right call, otherwise it would have been
too much. I do wonder what if I left out
a Pheasant, and put a bit of Venison in there instead? Regardless, the reactions around the table
were good I'm glad to say... so good, I couldn't get a photo it got served so
quick.
Have a Gav style recipe:
Ingredients:
2x Pheasant
1x Rabbit (pref wild)
100g diced Pork Belly (or Pancetta)
2x Carrot
2x Celery
2x Onions
2x Bay Leaf
1x Sprig of Thyme
1 Glass Red Booze (Wine)
Bowl of plain flour
Pastry:
500g Plain Flour
Pinch of Salt
250g Diced butter (Cold)
Ice Cold Water
Method:
1.
Brown the meat, toss it in flour, put it in a stock pot
2.
Add the vegetables; deglaze the pan with wine; add that
to stock pot
3.
Bring to a simmer (where it bubbles, but ever, ever so
gently, about 1 bubble every 10-15 secs) for 1 hour
4.
Remove the meat, pick it off the bones. Add bones,
skin, other crap you don’t want back to stock for further 1 hour
5.
Season and strain to approx 500ml
Pastry:
1. Mix salt and flour together, add butter cubes, and
cover them in flour
2. Mix above well together, and add enough water to make a
dough
3. Shape into rectangle, and roll to about 2cm thickness.
Pull top third down, and then pull bottom third over
4. Turn at a right angle, and repeat stage 3. two or three
more times
5. Wrap in Clingfilm, and put in fridge to chill, watch
the rugby, next try scored, take it out again. Other method, wait 30mins
6. Repeat stage 3. - 5. a further 3-4 times, then leave in
fridge for 1 more hour after last effort
The Pie:
1.
Put the meat into a big enough pie dish
2.
Put in the stock, keeping it below the top layer of
meat
3.
Roll out your pastry, cover the pie dish, and make a
pretty picture with what's left
4.
Put an egg wash on the pastry (we used milk, due to
allergies)
5.
Bake for 50mins at 190 C, which I presumed was Gas Mark
6, and worked on the oven I used
Use any leftover stock to make gravy, and serve
with mashed spuds, greens, carrots, and Nana's cranberry sauce was nice.
Sleep beckons.
Julia got the first shout, and with that she picked a lovely campsite at Breck Farm, in between Holt and Sheringham in the north of Norfolk. This was a lovely place, with the necessary facilities, hundreds of chickens roaming around, as well as a few sows and a randy boar. We were allowed to light a fire in the evenings, and couldn't have picked a better place for our introduction into Norfolk life.
