The fourth walk of our Leicestershire Round Hike started on another bank holiday. This is starting to become a bit of a trend… However, if we only walked on Bank holidays it would take us 3 years to complete. Perhaps we need to make an effort to go out more often.

We started again in the Village of Rearsby. This time we were joined by Betty, a 4-year-old rescue dog who joined our family 2 weeks ago. She’s certainly lively and was keen for a walk, but we weren’t sure how she would handle the distance having lived in a kennel for the past couple of months, so we thought this flat 4-mile stretch would be an ideal starting point.

There wasn’t much noted in our guidebook for today’s walk. It was mostly trails through farmland. All are relatively flat. We left the village following the route signs until it brought us out onto a main road before tucking our way down a cul-de-sac and into an alley leading to the first field.

Straight away we had an obstacle. A herd of cows had made their home right at the gate to get into the field. Betty was proving not to be the best adventure companion and was instantly on edge and didn’t want to go near them. They wouldn’t budge either. We turned around and returned to the main road, leaving the route behind, and walked up to the next village, Thrussington.

We were able to cut behind the church in Thrussington and after a half-mile walk across the trail we re-joined the route on the opposite side of the cow field. Already I was hoping we didn’t come across any more cows or this could end up being a long walk!

The route was pretty straightforward forward and we passed through field after field, occasionally passing other walkers or stopping to look at the baby lambs. The landscape on either side of us was barren other than the crops and hedgerows of the farm. Occasionally the skyline was interrupted by a pylon.

The walking felt easy, and we entertained ourselves by watching Betty race along the path, sniffing out every patch of long grass and rolling around in the mud. The path was mostly closed off on either side by a wired fence, shepherding us along, and preventing us from exploring. One particular fence was covered with vertical strips of wool from the sheep rubbing themselves against it. I’d never seen anything like it, each looking like a little cane of candy floss.

We continued trundling through field after field, counting down the distance to Hoby where we would try and find somewhere to sit for lunch. A couple of fields spiked our interest along the way. As we left the sheep behind we joined the bank of the River Wreake. It twisted its way along through the river beds, shielded by towering vegetation. It would have been hard to notice the river at all if not for the old stone bridge connecting one side to the other. There was some confusion from our guidebook as to whether we needed to cross it or not, although there was a 6-foot fence blocking either side of it.

It transpired that we were not crossing the river anyway. We’d just forgotten to turn the page in the guidebook and had been re-reading a section referring to a bridge we had already crossed. Instead, we made our way towards a gate, with 2 of us successfully managing to avoid stepping into cow pat, and passed into the next field. Here we were wedged between more cattle fields and a Christmas tree farm. We stopped for a quick photo and chatted for a couple of minutes about what Christmas would be like with Betty. Perhaps we will come back in December to get one of these trees.

After crossing a small track we entered the last couple of fields before Hoby. These looked more like the grounds of the big house up by the main road than farmland. Towering Oak trees blocked most of the view, and buttercups carpeted the field in a yellow blanket. It felt like a perfect little spot if it had not been for the lofty stinging nettles that were blocking our path.

Once we’d managed to pass through the gate without being stung, we were back out onto the main road, where we cut into the final field before Hoby. We could have just walked up to the road, and a couple of minutes later regretted not doing just that as we lost the trail through the field and had to walk to the perimeter looking for the gate into the village.
Hoby was a picturesque little village, full of charming thatched cottages and at its centre, atop the hill, a church tower raised skyward. A quick walk-through was enough to tell us there wasn’t going to be a cafe where we could stop for ice cream. So, instead, we opened the gate to St Mary’s church and sat ourselves down on the bench outside.

I’m always fond of having a walk around church gardens, and won’t turn down the opportunity to sit on a bench and enjoy the peace. Perhaps a bit odd, not being even a tiny bit religious, but I find their architecture and history fascinating. And they always make for a safe night camping spot if you ever need one.

St Mary’s church in particular was a mismatch of different styles due to numerous renovation works that had been done on it, but parts of it dated back to the 13th century, like many churches in the area. We sat at the foot of the tower to enjoy our packed lunches.

After a well-received rest from the sun, having found a patch of shade to sit in the grass, we continued along our walk. The 2.5 miles we had walked so far had been easy going and straightforward. Almost literally, as our detour around the cows was the only time we hadn’t been walking in a straight line. The second half of our walk wouldn’t be so easy.
We had to battle more stinging nettles as we descended a set of stairs out of the village. I did my best to hold them back with a walking stick, but it proved pretty pointless. Itchy, stinging arms were inevitable.

Once we had crossed another buttercup meadow we were back to the River Wreake, which we traversed via a wooden footbridge. I stopped for a moment on the bridge to enjoy the sounds of the water below. Gentle splashes as the water weaved between rocks. Dragonflies darting from one bank to the other. All of it was painted with tiny spots of golden sunlight that were creeping through the tree’s canopy above.

That would be our final moment of peace for the rest of the walk. After we climbed the other end of the bridge, we dropped down into another cattle field and were greeted by a herd of cows. They were walking side by side towards us, almost like an army marching in rank. We quickly set off across the field, trying to keep Betty distracted. At the far end of the field, there was another small bridge, although its function was completely pointless. Weeks of rain had left a small pool of water around the footbridge and the cows had turned it into a quagmire.

There was no way around other than to hop from one rock to another. We had to pick Betty up and lift her over the fence, desperately trying to keep our balance so as not to fall into the stinking mud. It was hard work. We began to panic as the cows descended on us and managed to jump the final stretch of mud just as they reached the water’s edge. Swearing in frustration I swiped at some stinging nettles with my walking stick, which was now covered in mud.

As we climbed a small hill to a railway track crossing we hoped that would be the end of the cows for the day. All our previous walks had been cow-free, but they had been during the colder months when cows typically stayed in barns. They’d all come back out just as we had brought along a dog which was terrified of them. It was not good timing.

It turned out not to be the end of the cows. At the end of the next trail, we were faced with another gate leading into a small paddock with around 10 more cows. On the far side, I could see the stile which we needed to cross, but there didn’t seem to be a way across to it. The gate was chained shut.

We followed the hedgeway round to the road where there were the rotten remains of a stile, blocked by rubbish and 6ft high nettles. There was no way through. Betty was making it clear she wasn’t going that way either as she had darted as far away as her lead would let her.

Looking at the map, it seemed like we could take an alternative route along the road and up the hill. Trekking up the concrete slope I silently fumed at the farmer who had made no attempts to aid walkers along the route. The path was inaccessible without climbing over a fence. We already have such limited access to nature, and it’s such a shame that parts of an organised route are being blocked by a lack of care for people’s access to the countryside.
The only saving grace from our diversion was a wonderful view from the top of the hill. We sat in the shade for a quick water break and were able to look back across the valley we had just walked through. Across the yellow-tinged fields, St Mary’s church stood tall on the horizon.

When we re-joined the footpath we were less than half a mile from our finishing point in Frisby on the Wreake. Three fields stood between us and the end of the walk. The first meadow had grazing horses. They had no interest in us as we passed through without bother. The next field was full of sheep who scattered away from the trail as we passed, turning once they had reached a safe distance to watch us go. We hit the final field, and as I poked my head through the hedgerow I came face to face with a giant bull. Nose ring and horns glaring at me. He strutted his way across to the gate and peered back through at us. The gate was blocked.

I could have cried in desperation. I was hot and tired. Betty was panting in the sun. We could see the village from here and had no way of getting there. I really didn’t want to have to walk back to the point where we had left the road. It was 20 minutes back and would mean a longer diverted route along the road again into the village. Scouting out the farm we were on, I spotted a gate up on the hill with the road beyond it. It was our only option.

We clambered over the gate, lifting the dog and passing her over. Now we were on the road, we just followed it back into the village. No more obstacles today. It took us 10 minutes of walking but we did finally make it back to the car. A quick stop at the pub for a cold drink was needed after the midday sun had been on our backs for a couple of hours.
In conclusion, this walk hadn’t been as interesting as the others and it had certainly presented more challenges. That was hiking though. Not every walk was going to be a fulfilling success, and this walk had at least got us another 4 miles along the route and given us a few lessons to learn for next time.