Day 40 Part 2 - Cattle in the way

(continued from Part One)

I reached the end of the lake and though my map showed the footpath continuing along the river, the arrow markers on posts suggested that I could only switch inland. Two walkers came the other way and while we chatted they couldn't offer any help.

I'm a conformist by nature and always feeling like a stranger in the countryside, I didn't want to offend against the rules. So inland I went, walking around the field of green barley instead of wading through it as the map indicated I should.

I picked up a bridle path, which I figured would be more substantial and easier going. It wasn't.

The path led to a gate, with another arrow marker pointing across a huge ploughed field. Clearly the bridle path had fallen into disuse and the farmer wasn't too bothered. I set out across the field, which was very heavy going. The earth was like concrete and the sun had baked it into crazily uneven shapes. I picked my way slowly under the scorching sun.

As I approached the far end of the field I could see cattle beyond the gate. A few months before I would have nervously gone straight through. But in January someone I know was trampled by bullocks, spent two hours in a field and weeks in hospital with broken ribs and collar bone. That had led me to search on Google for "walker" "attacked by bull" and, to my horror, the screen was full of stories.

A dozen cattle lay in the field beyond the gate. Approaching nervously I saw that they were almost full-grown and were different colours and shapes. One had long horns that curled in different directions to threatening points. Were they cows or bulls? I got closer still and the nearest, a brown and white beast with a very heavy brow (a Hereford?) heaved himself to his feet. I looked hopefully for udders. I was disappointed.

He fixed my in the eye. I walked to the gate. It was a narrow field - perhaps a hundred metres to the next gate. Was that short enough to outrun a dozen young bulls? No way. Looking closer, I saw that in fact there was no gate, just an opening to another field.

I considered my options. I weighed the pros and cons, even thinking that a minor goring would spice up my story and calculating that broken ribs would be almost mended by the time my sabbatical ended.

Two more cattle, one male, one female, roused themselves for possible action. Did they look calmed by the heat? Or were they up for a fight?

I decided to retreat. That meant yet another doubling-back, this time across the wretched ploughed field.

I eventually rejoined the road and worked my way round the lanes. At one point I looked across a hedge through the field of cattle and the ploughed field beyond. I'd added exactly an hour to the walk.

(continues in Part Three)