I did not have high hopes for today. To avoid the conurbation of Dunstable and Luton the Icknield Way curves over the top of it. A route to avoid a problem rather than to link up attractive or interesting sights I thought, however that conclusion was unfair as I encountered several places on today's walk worthy of a visit. The first was as I left the village of Whipsnade. A "cathedral" of trees had been planted in memory of three comrades from the First World War. Looking down the "nave" I am not quite sure they used the best trees to mimic the high arches of a cathedral, although maybe when the trees are in leaf the appearance is more exalted.
Soon I was walking along high grassland, above where the land dropped steeply giving long if misty views over lower ground to the north. Below me I could see a field with gliders, their long, white, wings outstretched. Yesterday I had seen them in the air, being towed into the skies by a small plane. Many people and dogs were out for a Sunday walk; pootling poodles, graceful greyhounds and a large dog so pleased to see me that he jumped up to greet me several times, leaving several muddy paw prints on my coat, much to the embarrassment of its owner. At the crest of the hill the National Trust's Chiltern Gateway Centre was selling gifts, coffee and cookies. I succumbed to the latter two.
Dropping down to lower ground I skirted the suburbs of Dunstable on a "green lane", before starting across farmland. Crossing pasture, and fields where grass seemed to have been planted among stubble, my boots soon accumulated a thick layer of soil. Sliding on the mud made for a tiring day with my left knee complaining. My mood was not helped by an electric fence, which enclosed a large field of turnips and sheep, obstructing the path. I very carefully put my feet over the wires, taking care they did not contact my undercarriage.
The monotony of farmland crossing was broken by a few notable sights. These included walking between enormous warehouses belonging to UPS and Amazon. Lines of "Amazon Prime" vans were in front of the latter, not in use, maybe as it was a Sunday. Another memory was visiting a church. It was locked however I made use of a bench in the churchyard for a rest and an apple. A solitary man, bent with age, was the only other person there. He was carefully tidying a grave using long handled shears. The grave had fresh flowers. We exchanged a few banalities on the weather. I did not ask him about his loss, it seemed inappropriate, although I would have liked to.
There was an optional section of the Icknield Way which passes close to the village of Toddington. Following Icknield Way signs without thought I accidentally went a little way up this alternative, but as it seemed longer my knee voted that we returned to the main route. I crossed the M1 motorway, lines of cars speeding into or out of London, then crossed the railway. Five electrified lines, two for fast trains to and from the north, and the remainder for slower more local ones.
Towards the end of my day, I regained the higher ground and some decent views where not obscured by trees. The last section of the route, around Sharpenhoe Clappers, was highly contorted. There was a pair of tall aerials which I saw from all angles. My path was following the edge of a plateau, above steep, wooded slopes, along the top of valley sides, in and out, as they cut into the higher ground. I found it difficult to maintain a sense of direction. Finally I arrived at Streatley, the second village with this name on my trip so far. My self catering chalet for the night was on the south side. All was dark as I arrived by the light of my head torch.
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