Leaving Ely required some patience. The A10 road acts as a westward boundary to the city, at 8:45 in the morning it was thick with traffic tempting me to make an ill advised "run for it" between fast moving cars. Instead I waited a while to cross in reasonable safety.
Beneath clouds with ragged patches of blue I then followed quiet pathways and tracks over fields, pleased they were not muddy after a long period with little rain. Across this flat landscape the paths and roads ran straight, turning through right angles at intervals at the edge of fields either ploughed or green with winter wheat or barley. There were exceptions where the roads meandered. I was later told such roads were following the edge of old rivers, which once acted as boundaries. These rivers laid down silt, more stable than the surrounding peat, and more suitable for building houses, so settlements cluster around these water courses. Many of the rivers are now gone, eliminated by man made channels such as the New and Old Bedford rivers and the River Delph, cut ruler straight across the landscape. Into these new rivers water is pumped from the drainage ditches that criss-cross the landscape in straight lines and right angles. Fortunately metal footbridges were in place where the footpaths I was following crossed a drainage ditch. Today, big, yellow excavators with long hydraulic arms were out cleaning these ditches, clearing vegetation to reveal layers of clay beneath the peat.
My travels were frustrated by a closed level crossing forcing a detour to the next crossing point. With the flat landscape level crossings were common in the area. The railway line was busy with freight trains carrying containers, graffitied wagons and tank trucks, as well as smarter trains carrying passengers. As I walked along an embankment called the "Hundred Foot Bank" between the New Bedford River and the road, flights of white geese flew over my head, landing in large flocks on green fields to my right. On my left the fields were flooded, with many birds settled there. Later I saw signs of the Wildfowlers Association, so maybe some of the birds were being lined up to be shot!
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| Looking back down the Hundred Foot Bank, New Bedford River on the right (named after Duke of Bedford who was partly responsible for its creation in the 17th century). |
As the road curved between the New and Old Bedford Rivers I admired the resilience of the willow trees, many were much damaged but still sent up shoots from their contorted trunks. Shortly after, the Lamb and Flag beckoned me in for a sandwich for lunch. Apparently little changed for many years, a man at the bar commenting that a large stuffed pike in a glass box had hung on the wall since his childhood. A few kilometres beyond and I reached the village of Christchurch, and beyond that a sign for Christchurch Farm, "Private Road, Access Only". Although not signposted as such, the Hereward Way continued through the farm, however this was as far as I planned to go on this path, having arranged to meet my cousin for a rest day.
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