Happily, Kate’s knee responded to two days of TLC and a bolus of ibuprofen, so today found us back on the path from Old Soddy to Cold Ashton. In truth, we’re in Pennsylvania, about two miles north of Ashton. This B&B is not getting the five-star award, as it is right on the motorway and nowhere near a warm pub with friendly beasts. However, we did arrive three hours early, covered in mud and wet to the bone, and the host was gracious enough to allow us to dump our filthy shoes and gaiters in his outside room before allowing us up to our room. I literally had to roll my pantlegs up to mid thigh to prevent the mud from dripping down my legs as we went upstairs. All was not lost as he kindly offered us a beer and though I had to drink it sitting primly on a chair in our tiny bedroom (luggage had not yet arrived), it was worth the wait. So was the hot shower, once the suitcase appeared.
All things considered, today’s walk went smashingly. We climbed gentle hills out of Sodbury and hiked through fields, some at the end of harvest, some in fallow. Pheasants called and strutted past us, a he and a she, himself in the lead and herself hurriedly pecking and fretting behind him. Just like real life.
About two hours into the stroll the rain arrived, without prior announcement and with real intent. When you are high on the exposed hills it only takes a moment before you are dripping wet, making us so grateful, again, for the ponchos from Ann. Saved our bacon, more than once!
Our host, Malcom, is a real "character." We were greeted with the question "Are you Americans?" - and when we assured him, no, Canadian, he acquiesced and opened the door. "Oh I suppose you kin come in," he said grumpily, "Commonwealth and all." Most of the time when we are asked if we’re American and respond accordingly, we receive a flurry of apologies - "Oh good lord, ladies, so sorry! Now that I hear your accent, I can tell you’re Canadians!". Ha ha. One lady told us our accent was "Pure North Dakota." We’re still puzzling over that one.
Dinner tonight is in-house, mainly because there is no other choice within walking distance. Malcolm asked "Which one of yoos is the vegan?" When I replied it was me, he said "Well it’s a wonder you isn’t dead out there in the forest, it tiz!" He’s quite challenged over the menu, despite my assurance that a plate of vegetables would be just fine and then he walked away muttering about onions and wizzled carrots from the garden. My cares disappeared when he told us the price of dinner included wine.
Our decision as to whether we will walk tomorrow is multi-faceted, dependent of course on Kate’s knee, and whether our shoes ever dry, and if the skies cooperate. If the stars align it is our intention to finish this last leg and celebrate this amazing journey at its proper end point in front of Bath Abbey. Stay tuned.
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