Win Hill Three ways…

Many of our friends refer to us loosely as crazy. At times I try to defend this claim and at other times, I have to think that they may be right. Today was one of those days. Today was the Bamford Sheepdog Trials and with it came a Fell (foul?) run that I felt was obligatory to take part in, us being new to the village. On mentioning my participation, I had heard murmurings of how nasty a run it was. In my head I thought it can’t be that bad. But let me set the scene first and then you will have the scene set.

My husband has his final exam tomorrow, in the horrible shape and form of an economics exam. He is understandably stressed, and as a result has been working like a Trojan, spending hours revising and sitting in front of his computer. As such, his outlet is exercise and if I am not careful to reign him in, he is liable to conduct experimental outings in the form of exploring new paths that end up lasting a few hours. So we tried to keep the exercise routes close to home.

Above our village, across the river lies the peak of Win Hill. Probably the highest peak in our immediate vicinity, at a height of 462m, and was a must in terms of starting to tick off some Uk peaks.

Win Hill from above (in winter still)

Win Hill from above (in winter still)

On Saturday afternoon, we decided to try a gentle run that led us up to the top of Win Hill via the village of ThornHill. A gently undulating climb that got steeper the higher we climbed. On reaching the ‘pike’ or trig point (apparently referred to locally as the Pimple), we returned much the way we had come, crossing the weir of our local river and returning home.

Coming down Win Hill

Sunday dawned bright and beautiful (again!) and being a gorgeous day inspired us to head out on our mountain bikes. This time to limit exploration time, we decided to head up Win Hill and descend via an unknown path. Up up and up we climbed, 4 km solidly to get to the top. From there it was all downhill via iridescent green forest paths and alongside the dams. Mountain biking heaven.

Coming down WIn Hill on the side of the Ladybower Dam

However, at some point during yesterday’s ascent I realised how foolish we had been in ascending this peak twice in a row (It’s a tiring and heart pumping climb) and now I was supposed to be racing it the next day. (Those of you who know me will nod your heads in acknowledgement of my competitive characteristics). Today dawned, thankfully with no rain in sight.

I arrived at the recreation grounds (with a vague thought that no one would really be there to race and secondly that I would be one of a handful of women there- wrong on both accounts). I felt like asking, after a while of watching fellow competitors, if there had been an entry criteria. Everyone was very serious. Warming up at least half an hour before the race, stretching, one legged hops, sprints, squats, lunges, hip rolls. You name it. Even as a Physio I was impressed. I have very rarely ever taken running that seriously and now I felt I had no choice but to look the part. Off I went on my warm up run (to kill time more than anything) and then joined the others in the starting line up. Few people smiled. Most looked determinedly forwards, fingers anxiously waiting to set the time on their Garmins and timekeepers. The President stood on a hay bale (in her pink high heels),shot the gun, and with that everyone took off at breakneck speed. At this point I thought ‘Ha! Novices! Someone should tell them there’s a nasty hill coming’. I tried to find my pace and not be alarmed at the multitude of runners passing me. It’s never a good sign when you pass a dad and his kid on the path and over hear the dad telling his son that “its thinning out now, you should be good to go”. I felt like saying ‘I can hear you!’.

Shortly after this point we turned left. Up Parkin Clough. I should also mention that by this point my respect for UK fell runners had increased immensely. I had not passed a soul and was starting to eat humble pie, knowing my legs would be too tired to do me any favors on the way up. Parkin Clough climbs 300m of elevation in 1.2km. No zigs or zags. Just straight up. I resigned myself to the fact that just keeping moving was better than stopping, so onward and upward we went. Huffing and puffing. Around the beacon we went and then it was downhill all the way from there. Fast and quick, running on great paths, I tried my hardest to catch the two men in front of me but they disappeared from sight. And thankfully, soon I was on the tar road ready to turn into the recreation ground. Just as my legs were getting too tired, so I saw my husband at the finish line, cheering me in.

Finished! (in more ways than one!)

 

The Map of Win Hill – note Parkin Clough and the trail up from Thornhill

So three days of Win Hill, three different ways. I have huge respect for the Uk fell runners and won’t underestimate them again. Grateful that I received a concessionary prize for being the second local woman, we have cake to eat to replace all those calories. It’s great to be able to enjoy and explore the Peak District.

Spring has sprung

I think it is safe to say that now, almost at the end of May, spring has sprung fully.

The first day of spring is one thing, the first spring day another. The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month.

Henry van Dyke

Living in a place of seasons is a privilege: one has a chance to visibly  watch the days lengthen, the sun warm and the flowers blossom as the countryside changes hue. These changes feel celebrated by the chirruping of the birds as they exalt the sunshine and the blossoms. First the tentative snowdrops, then the large array of assorted types of daffodils (I didnt know so many varieties existed!), then the colourful tulips and finally the long awaited bluebells.

cherry (?) blossoms on the tree outside our church

Pink tulips

Living in such a beautiful place as the Peak District National Park has meant that my drives to work are surrounded by greenery. Our forays into the forests are luminescent as the leaves shine a brilliant green hue against the backdrop of the brown forest floor. The day starts early, with light leaking in our curtains after 5am and the bird’s songs fill the air. Baby sheep bleat in the distance and calves call for their mothers. The countryside has become a verdant sea, full of texture  and richness. The sun’s rays have warmed to become a cosy spot for a convenient cat nap by our two precious kitties. The days have lengthened into the nights as well, with sunset at present at 21:14pm. When we switched off the light at 10pm last night, the last rays of sunshine were still calling out through the night.

Lambs in the countryside (in Chatsworth gardens)

The cats enjoying the last of the afternoon’s sun rays

Our village pub looking pretty

Chatsworth’s beautiful grounds (and river)

Rolling fields and greenness with good friends

Exercise means shorts and t-shirts again (and even the occasional peak hat or suncream!) and folk festivals, beer festivals (theres one every weekend almost) and village celebrations are beginning in earnest. Watch this space for more excitement on the celebrations! In the meantime, I have been spoilt by my industrious husband and the homemade breads he produces between essays on the politics of health, the value of human life future and present, and gender empowerment and economic prosperity. I look forward to what yummy treats lie in store ( and a solution for world peace too 😉 ) !

A glorious run over the river stepping stones all that bread and beer showing.

My husbands first Sourdough loaf (with home-brewed beer)

Homemade kitka loaf

Behold my friends, the spring is come; the earth has gladly received the embraces of the sun and we shall soon see the results of their love

Sitting Bull

Home

“Home is people. Not a place. If you go back there after the people are gone, then all you can see is what is not there anymore” Robin Hobb, Fool’s Fate

I was going home. Alone. Which wasn’t how I had pictured it, but necessary for the opportunity to be a part of my family’s celebration of my Grandmother’s 90th and necessary to begin to clear a path in the chaos we had left in our wake of leaving. I was blessed out of my socks by quality time with people I love, being spoilt by my family and good friends, and getting to embrace some of South Africa’s finest sights and experiences.

I really felt spoilt at the chance to go home at this time, especially as we hadn’t planned it this way. When we left South Africa, despite having booked a return ticket (at a random date for us to change when we knew our own plans better) we had every intention of only returning after a year. But sometimes things happen that change our plans, and sometimes things seem too well orchestrated to not take advantage of the situation. This was kind of the story as to how I landed back on home soil after only 6 months. Our random return date that I had chosen to comply with the air flight booking happened to fall a day before my dear grandmother’s 90th. However, Guy was in the middle of his final master’s term,and was thus unable to leave due to the pressures and deadlines on him. My new job that I had only begun two months earlier were very understanding and relaxed about my leave, making it much easier to decide to “just do it”.

As it turned out, my entire family on my mother’s side made the effort to be together- the first time I have been apart of a complete reunion in too many years.

The Ferguson Family celebration (photo courtesy of my dad, Ian Wicks)

My wonderful family and Grandmother, Dotty

My cousin surprised us all by flying in from Los Angeles and we had two nights of connecting, laughing, gambling and jesting amongst the Ferguson tribe. Celebrating with my gran was so special, considering that a week after our arrival in the UK, my grandfather had passed away and we had not been able to return for his funeral. Seeing my gran, and my family all together was incredibly heart warming and special. How many more we will have? This was all made the more special and significant by my sister’s engagement that had occurred the weekend prior to my arrival. I was even more grateful to my parents who sacrificed a day of their time with me so that I could have a day with her in her new home, shared by her and her fiancé. The sparkling news of their engagement was celebrated by us on the Thursday night, and I was lucky enough to see pictures of her ring to be, and join in the discussions and plans for the engagement party and wedding.

The newly engaged Trace and Dave, celebrating with French Champagne!

My parents spoilt me in many many ways. One of the things I have always loved to do in South Africa has been to go to the ‘bush’. My gran’s original party plan was to be held at Hluhluwe-Umfolozi game reserve, until the Johannesburg family felt it was too far to come for a weekend. I was devastated with the news that I wouldn’t be going to the bush in my short trip. Mum and Dad came to the rescue and booked us two nights in my favorite camp-Mpila. A hilltop unfenced camp, with views for miles over the Kwazulu Natal countryside. One has to be constantly alert as wild animals from hyenas to bush pig and antelope walk past your front ‘stoep’ at all hours and with little warning. You cannot leave your meat in the braai unattended as the hungry scavenger Hyenas will do their best to get your food before you do. This scenario ended up with us all sitting around the fire and Dotty (my 90 year old granny) having the golf club at her side in case we needed it!

Sunset at Mpila camp, Umfolozi (thanks Dad for the pic)

We were incredibly privileged in our one full day there to see lion, wild dog, rhinos, elephant and all the antelope. Buffalo, hyena and beautiful birds and birds of prey were also amongst the list. There is nothing quite like the silence of the bush and the beauty of the animals to restore one’s soul.

My time was much too short with my family. There is no doubt about that- just when we were all starting to really catch up and help each other with things at their home, I had to leave to go to Cape Town. Sitting on the plane made me realize why people often take two weeks just to be with family, as being together and getting used to one another takes time. People are layered, and we slowly start peeling off layers the more we relax and unwind with those we love.

Cape Town: where a trail of appointments awaited me , along with a list of chores, people to see and places to go. There’s no doubt that I love my family and being with them was fantastic, but I love Cape Town as well. Flying into the city (in the jump seat thanks to my dear Captain friend!) and looking at the beauty of Table Mountain and the peninsula mountains, brought to mind so many happy memories, adventures and experiences shared with my darling partner and great friends.

Two full days is never enough in Cape Town, not least when one has Pilates exams, dental appointments and trying to rummage through umpteen boxes left at three different destinations. Trying to see everyone who is special to me (and us) was impossible. So if I didn’t get to see you this time, I promise I will make sure I do next time. The friends I did get to see, it was so special being able to catch up, laugh together and be a part of your lives again. Thank you. You enrich our lives so much, and being with you for those short moments reminded me of how lucky we are to be able to call you our friends.

Good friends at Massimo’s Pizza restaurant – Guy’s favourite

Good friends at Massimo’s Pizza restaurant – Guy’s favourite

A walk on Table Mountain with Pete and Andrea and
their new baby Daniella

With darling Czerina

Good friends at Massimo’s Pizza restaurant – Guy’s favourite

Simon and Theresa (Guy’s brother and sister-in-law) and sweet Pixel

Amazing Ironman Elize and myself

With dear Lolita and Nico

All too soon I was on the plane again and heading out. This time with tears in my eyes as my plane took off, bound for Heathrow. My four bags (!) were not nearly big enough for all that I wanted to take with me. So many South African delicacies or designs that embody the vibrant culture and nature of the people and land we love. It reminded me why I am proudly South African, irrespective of where I presently live. It made me want to live with more memories of home around us so that people who know us here in the Uk can know our beautiful land and country as well. It made me want to plan my next trip home with my husband so that he too can feel the depth of love, gratitude, pride and appreciation that fills my soul.

“There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways In which you yourself are altered” Nelson Mandela, The Long Walk to Freedom