Leics Round 8 - Woodhouse Eaves to Rearsby

With Marta. An interesting walk undulating, not hilly -reservoir, towns, villages. Fine weather not too hot. Almost 12.5 miles. 429 ft of ascent.





The drive from Rearsby was very pleasant, through Ratcliffe on the Wreake, and over to Cossington via Humble Hill. There are fine views from here. Then on through some picturesque villages over Swithland Reservoir and on to Woodhouse Eaves, where we began our walk.













We park on Maplewell Road, and walk downhill, across the main road to Meadow Road. The grass track takes us past the primary school. We turn right diagonallly across a field, then following its hedge until we meet a road.





We cross over and walk along the field edge. The path goes in this direction over five fields, heading towards the Great Central Railway line. A steam train passes by, right on cue.





We walk alongside the railway for a short distance, then cross the bridge and walk along a quiet road, along the Swithland reservoir dam.

Looking back to the Charnwood hills

the overflow channel and a serious hunk of granite

Kinchley Lane takes us past some pretty cottages

Hawthorn topiary?

At the T-junction we turn left, and soon right - there's a bench here, but - the cheek - two people are already sitting there. We'll have to walk a little further before our break today.



Another few hundred yards of road - a man emerges from the footpath on our left, and asks us where "the round" is - he's not impressed that it's along the road! He's walking at a fair lick, so we let him dash on with a cheery wave.



Shortly after a railway bridge there's a turn to the right along a farm track. He's missed it, and we're not entirely sure, until we check our nook and map. The sign's not there. By the time we've decided he's well out of earshot.



The track skirts an old quarry and brings us out at Castle Hill in Mountsorrel. No castle now, alas, but there's a beacon and a war memorial. A severe notice warns that sitting and hanging around isn't allowed - it would show disrespect to those young soldiers, who would probably have indulged in canoodling, given half a chance and a longer life.

A handy bench - coffee up!

Beacon on Castle Hill

Sobering to see how many names from one family are remembered here.

We walk down Watling Street into Mountsorrel, which has several interesting buildings:

The Buttercross

Temperance Hall, now a private house

All I could make out on this was the name Inglesant

Old coaching inn dated 1713

Parish Rooms - ex infant school and Mechanics Institute

We walk through the small town and across the recreation ground. We make a small accidental detour here, but we're soon back on track. The next big obstacle is the A6. The original route takes you straight across, though the path looks impassable. Just as well. A much better alternative is to follow the path for a quarter of a mile or so to the underpass.

In this tree is a bird, with a longish tail and pale yellowish underside. Not a tit. could it be a grey wagtail? Very close to the A6.

After this noisy section of the walk we cross fields and bridges to Sileby Mill Boatyard on the river Soar. The shop sells snacks and cold drinks, and lots of boating gear, maps and charts. I decide against buying the sailing captain peaked cap - I'd look silly, really.















So it's on along the riverside path past gravel pits towards Cossington. Another picturesque village, but we're on a mission for lunch. The Royal Oak does a good sandwich, salad and chips.



We decide we should have a wander round the village - there's a moat on the map and we haven't seen it. When in doubt ask a local dog-walker. He shows us the moat - round an island belonging to the Hall - or perhaps the old rectory.

Trees planted for royal occasions from 1902 onwards.

The moat and hall

Cossington church

From here it's another couple of miles, along Bennetts Road and Blackberry Hill, past Ratcliffe College - a Catholic boarding school, high on the hill, and down - across the A46. At least it's dual carriageway with a central reservation. More fields and a minor road. Left here than a footpath on the right - there are two and it doesn't matter which we take as they join at Rearsby Mill - now a beautifully situated house.

We have to cross the main railway line and it's a short distance to Rearsby.

At the corner of Mill Road and Brookside "It is said that in1753 John Wesley stood on this stone to preach to the villagers of Rearsby. The world is my pulpit."

Playing on a Ladder

Falling

This hickory has always been one of my favorite trees on our place.



I loved the way it (picturesquely, romantically) leaned over the path, and defended it from my husband, who has long wanted to cut it down.



But now there's a problem. How can you defend a tree that insists on behaving in this manner?

Hubby says it must go. We need to be able to drive under there, and neither pickups nor tractors can Limbo. Plus, if this decline continues, a fence will be destroyed.



I'll still be sad to see it go.

(Note the crazy husband in the tree.)

I'm going to Jackson

Sandra and I took this last weekend to visit the most beautiful and soul nourishing Jackson Cafe & Gallery in Melbourne. That's all we did. We went to Melbourne and went to a cafe.




Some of you know my amazing brother Peter O'Brien. Artist, thinker, writer, adventurer.

He has opened the Jackson Cafe & Gallery at 412 Rathdown Street Nth. Carlton.






The opening exhibition is by Peter, himself. Seven rooms of subversion, dreams and poetry.














A science researcher from the nearby University of Melbourne keeps the conversation elevated.












"Ethical Pickles" are stacked for sale on the table. I know some people would fly further than Melbourne to get a jar of these fiery Eggplant Pickles.













At the heart of the cafe is the organic, fair trade Segafredo coffee.











Annie and Peter



So much stainless in the kitchen.










Sandra












I drank four cups of coffee in a day. A personal best. Nothing bad happened. Good to know.









The music: you'll hear up to the minute local Melbourne funk and jazz musicians who drop in for coffee and check on their CD sales. Next minute you'll be drifting away through the years with the poetry of Bob Dylan and Cohen.














We stayed at Peter and Annie's place in carlton Nth.








But we did go outside. Sandra has just turned 55 and is looking fabulous, so I took a moment off from drinking coffee to capture her urban style.























Back to the warmth and the papers.







Two days of art, science and coffee. Time to go.



Sandra booked a Getz for us. Avis gave us a Holden Supercar, racing pack and all.

Climbers, you know I drive like a pensioner but pulling out into Lygon Street, across the tram tracks, in the high competition evening traffic, on a mission to the airport, we put it to use.






Peter revives the form, poetry and hand drawing.



Our dear old friend Kevin. He is dedicated to crafts of ancient cultures. Vikings, Celts.





Life long friend Janet wears a celtic knot in copper, by Kevin.



Sandra prepares the Red Phoenix Emporium capsule collection as passersby look in.



Interesting small rooms upstairs boldly exhibit art.



The schoolroom, for meetings














No wifi. So why don't you just tell me what you had for lunch?



Fall deeply into the art that surrounds you.









Oil and oil paint on canvas.














Annie. Annie's coral bicycle.


The rooms are beautiful and surprising, a hidden staircase, an unexpected light well.










Home made vegetable soup with turkish bread, coffee, fire.



The Red Phoenix Emporium capsule collection.







Peter can justifiably look satisfied. He has achieved a beautiful, intelligent atmosphere that I know will be loved by artists, coffee seekers and conversationalists. Thank you Peter.