Well. The day had arrived. I was really rather excited. I get to use my latest bit of boat-related tech for the first time. I’ve never been so excited about washing clothes before. I think part of the excitement was that it actually takes some effort to operate, it’s not really automatic. But it is so much easier than hand washing. Until you get to the drying part. You see, tumble dryers won’t really work with the small inverter we have. And we don’t have space. You should see my zig zag retractable washing line under the cratch. Now, if it will just stop raining long enough!

The top end of the Ashby is a great place to stay (for up to 48h). I thought it would be a great idea to use the time, whilst the washing was drying, to explore the route of the Ashby as far as I could. The first mile or so was pretty easy and the route obvious. It was a bit weird to come across marker posts in the middle of a field.

After this, the route became a lot less obvious but it was easy to follow due to the clear way markers provided by Leicestershire County Council. Just before the end of the route that you can walk, I stumbled out of the undergrowth to be presented with a sign warning of military vehicles.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I thought I had dropped through a wormhole back to Wiltshire. I took a little while to realise that the path was traversing a track for tanks that you can hire for fun. Still, very surprising to bump into a tank in the middle of nowhere.

The footpath carried on, along a well indicated route across a field and then a road, and then into a field occupied by a flock of sheep. Now, Sam is usually very interested in sheep, probably a result of her part-Collie heritage. This time was no different, to start with. As usual, the sheep gave her a wide berth, but as we approached the far corner of the field where the stile was, I noticed the insistent baa’ing noise behind us. The sheep were herding us into the corner!

And then the cows in the next field joined in. Of course, the stile had to be one of the most complicated, with a little trap door to let a dog through. Sam was now completely freaked out. Sheep aren’t supposed to behave like that, I’m sure she was thinking, as she hid behind my legs. Would she concentrate long enough to go through the trap door? Not a chance. Finally, by climbing over the stile myself, crouching down to trap door level and pulling hard on the lead… well you get the idea.

Now we were on land belonging to someone who obviously was not a fan of footpaths. The path now diverted from the route it should have taken, according to the map. It was supposed to join up with the Ivanhoe Trail, a 35 mile circular path, commemorating the fact the the book was set in this part of the world. When I got to where the paths should meet, the way was blocked by a huge pile of discarded wire fencing. It looked like all the fences had recently been replaced and a ditch excavated to make it almost impossible to get to the Ivanhoe trail. I said almost. It is possible if you don’t mind nettles and scrambling in a ditch. I didn’t, and neither did Sam. I don’t think she want to retrace our steps, because that would mean going back to the intimidating sheep!

Back on the trail, it was then a simple route back to the boat. Except that this supposed premier walking route in this part of Leicestershire dumps you by the side of a busy road, and expects you to walk down it for over a mile. No footpath, nothing but a completely overgrown verge. No fun, with a dog who keeps wanting to chase cars.

My advice to anyone wanting to trace the route of the Ashby. Stop and turn round when you see a tank.