The fine weather from the weekend carried over into the bank holiday as we laced our hiking boots up once more and headed north to the village of Mountsorrel to embark on our third walk of the Leicestershire Round.

So far we’d been keeping the distances low to build into the walk, wanting to take our time to appreciate the sights and rest whenever we fancied. Today, however, we had an additional 2 miles on top of our usual mileage to make it to the endpoint in Rearsby. With a backpack full of water and snacks we set off.

We set off from the centre of Mountsorrel in some confusion. Our guidebook told us to head through the village and join the canal, but the signposts for the walk directed us instead past the cricket club, where my boots swept the glistening morning dew from the grass, and into the shadows of a woodland as we headed along a trail to the A6.

Although it was pleasant walking, the sun working together with a gentle breeze to make it the perfect weather to don a t-shirt and shorts, nature was beginning to creep up and sabotage us. Within the first half a mile it became an obstacle course of dodging stinging nettles and brambles, both competing for the space reserved for the footpath, held back only by the striding feet of walkers.

We pottered along the trail, stopping to admire some towering bluebells, before passing under the A6 via a tunnel and coming out onto the Mountsorrel Meadows. Our feet carried us through the undulating grasslands full of wildflowers and across the boardwalks of the parks wetlands. A passing runner called out a cheery hello before turning back and shouting at us.

“Isn’t it great to not be swamped in mud again?”

We were pleased to be walking through without a worry, having heard from a neighbour how boggy this section of the walk had been a couple of months before when he had done the walk himself. Nothing slows you down quite like ankle-deep mud and a long walk isn’t the place for wrestling stuck boots out of sludge.

The boardwalks brought us out to Sileby Mill, originally constructed in the 19th century as a water-powered corn mill which would transport ground corn from the local farming communities. Today, with a decline in traditional milling activities, it is mostly a residential facility, with some long boats moored up for the day to make the most of the facilities. We stopped to admire the view of the River Soar from the footbridge, watching the water gush through the gates of the lock and idly flow downstream to a point where I had swam on the summer solstice last year. I thought back to that cool morning floating down the river and made a mental note to myself that I should make a trip back there again.

After crossing the river we headed right, following its banks south towards Cossington Meadow. Open fields lay to our left, and amongst the long grass, I could hear the buzz of Grasshoppers. The sound took me back to when I was a kid, running through the fields behind my dad’s house, chasing the little insects to catch and observe from an ice cream tub stabbed with air holes. It made me a little sad to think that in the 20 years since I’d created those memories, I’d neither heard nor noticed them since. It was a reminder, that when efforts are made to provide wild spaces, nature will thrive.

We had an idle half-mile walk along the river, stopping occasionally to talk to another walker, who on sight of our guidebook had gone into a long explanation about how we had walked the route 5 times, starting in 1970. Excited by someone sharing the same journey as he had, he enthusiastically gave directions to the next town.

After turning away from the river, we headed through a small woodland area and came out in the village of Cossington. The path merely skirted the edge of the village, but we stopped to inspect thatched roofed cottages by the war memorial, and also spotted the ‘house of Emmett Brown’. I’ve since googled this for more information, but there’s not a single reference as to why a house in a small Leicestershire village is linked to a fictional character from an 80’s American Sci-Fi film. The mystery of this one would have to wait, as we still had miles to walk and lunch was calling.

After we left Cossington, we joined a gravel bridleway which ran adjacent to the main road for a gentle mile uphill, where we stopped half to sit on a fallen tree trunk to eat our lunch. From our shaded spot, we watched as birds of prey, which I couldn’t identify, swooped overhead hunting in the fields of grain. Stopping for lunch was one of my favourite parts of these walks. Tucking into my sandwiches and watching the world go by, away from crowds of people and the hustle of everyday life. This was peaceful and relaxing. A reminder that life goes too fast and sometimes it’s good to stop and slow down.

Once we had polished off our sandwiches it was time to get back to the walking, so we continued up the path for another 10 minutes until we reached the main road, where we crossed and continued up a private road. We’d been walking uphill for the last mile and a half, and from up here we could now see out across north Leicestershire, towards the Wreake. Looking back towards the way we had come, the hills of Bradgate Park were still on the horizon, and although they told the story of how far we had walked across these past 3 trips, it also reminded us of how far we had left to go.

We eventually stopped going East when we reached we reached Ratcliffe College, a private Catholic boarding and day school which spiralled out from the towering church at its centre. As today was a bank holiday it was deserted, so we passed along the public footpath through the grounds alone, admiring the perfectly mowed cricket strip and football fields, which on any other day would have been full of students out enjoying the sun.

The school grounds ran up to the perimeter of the A46, which we needed to cross. A busy dual carriageway linking the northeast villages to the county’s city centre. We stood cautiously on the edge of the road as traffic flew past us at 70mph, taking care to not extend ourselves into the road until it was clear and where we dashed across in mild panic. Areas like this were less frequently walked by everyday ramblers, no doubt due to the busy road crossings, and the gate into the field was full of waist-high stinging nettles. How unfair it seemed, that just when the weather is nice enough to plod along the trails in shorts and a t-shirt, nature delivers a towering stinging obstacle to keep you on your toes.

We didn’t have long left to walk as we passed through the fields, stopping at the top of one hill to look out and admire the Wreake Valley below us. Our final destination in Rearsby came into sight just as rain clouds began to pass overhead. It was exactly what I pictured in my head when I thought about the English countryside. Rolling green fields, tree lines hedges and a scattering of small cottages and the odd church spire in the distance.

We passed through a couple more fields, before descending the long driveway of a house, skirting through its garden and back out onto the footpath on the other side. The River Wreake arched its way around the house as well, and as we walked the bank I wished that I had brought my swim shorts. A dip into the cool water would have been a perfect way to sign off the walk on a hot bank holiday.

Feeling slightly deflated at missing the opportunity to take a dip, we took the final trail through another wooded area, battling against the overgrowing wildflowers that were swallowing the path, until we came out into the village right next to where our car was parked. The day’s walk was finished. Our longest walk of the adventure so far, clocking nearly 7 miles in the end. We sat on a wooden bench that overlooked a stream trickling through the village. People walked across the footbridge as the water flowed below, crossing the road and continuing on its journey to the Wreake. It had been a longer walk, but we had been rewarded with beautiful views all day, enjoyed in solitude.

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