Day 19 Part 2 - Looking for the paths

[continued from Part 1]

Back in Barton Hill, it was easy to see the victims of social injustice. The parish was one of the beneficiaries of the first wave of ten-year New Deal for Communities regeneration schemes as I was there. However at the time it was hard to see how people were thinking creatively beyond improvements to litter bins and street lights. I'm looking forward to returning in a couple of weeks to discover what impact a fifty million pound programme has made. It's good material for reflection in the light of today's walking verse, Proverbs 8.20: I (Wisdom), walk in the way of righteousness, along the paths of justice.

Wondering where the "paths of justice" lie today, I reckon their not mapped by agencies Ordnance Survey or IGN. To find them, I have a hunch that you have to ask for directions.

"Lord, forgive me when I confuse the map with the territory. Reveal to me the paths of justice, that I may walk in them. Amen."

It wasn't much farther to the old abbey at Quarr and then past its more modern replacement. Having resisted the abbey's invitation to coffee, at The Fishbourne Inn I stopped by for a refreshingly-hoppy half-pint of Goddard's, an island brew.

After crossing the creek into Wootton Bridge, I picked up the old railway line and pottered through the trees towards Newport. It's a fabulous day for walking - bright sunshine in a clear sky but with a strong east wind behind me that keeps things fresh.

The wind creaked the trees and at one point I stopped on the track as I heard branches falling. Within a moment, a small bough landed on the path in front of me.

The OS 1:50,000 Landranger maps take some getting used to after plotting courses on the French IGN series for so long. I also missed the French system of marking footpaths with coloured blazes painted on the tree trunks, walls or telegraph poles. What first felt haphazard back in the outskirts of Paris I'd come to appreciate as very effective. There was no moment at which I wondered which way to go when I reached a fork in the path. The British system of using expensive signs generally only where the paths meet a road leaves a bit more uncertainty.

I should also mention that in France, no path took me through fields of cattle, nor through farmyards with untethered dogs. I'd come to the conclusion that country footpath-walking in France is an altogether easier and less stressful experience than in England, where I often feel intimidated.

I realised that the OS map had deceived me when I couldn't get across a delapidated bridge. The map showed a row of green dots to indicate a cycle route along the old railway but I discovered that
I needed to rejoin the main road for a mile and then pickup the old track again.

I usually write in the morning but when I arrived at the reception of the Newport Travelodge I was asked if I had made an 'early check-in' reservation. I hadn't and didn't fancy stumping up another tenner to get into the room straight away. So I'm passing the forty minute wait by cluttering up the hotel bar. Serves them right.

Later this evening I'm meeting up with Sue, who I haven't seen since we were curates together in Lichfield diocese.