Walking in the teeth of a gale

[ladyofastolat]

The 80mph coastal gusts aren't due until tomorrow, but it was hard to believe that the storm wasn't quite here yet as I was walking on the coastal cliffs and Downs today. First, though, I had to wade through the knee-deep exuberance of spaniels that populated the first mile or so out of the car park. This being the Tennyson Trail, it was, of course, all spaniels, all of the time. Well, except for a few collies. There are always collies. The coastal path is all about black labradoids, but even they let a few collies walk their exclusive paths.

A strange force did not want me to reach the barrows, where a sign announces that the barrows and their dread denizens are protected by the Wight Conservation Trust, and kept trying to return me to the car park whence I came, but a wall of spaniels blocked my way, so I battled the strange force, and won. Past the barrows, the force was even stronger, but at least I was going downhill, at least for a little while.

I thought I could hear the bloodhounds at work in the valley between the hills and the sea, but there was no sign of them, so I either imagined it, or it was a case of strange, fairy horns being carried by the wind. The Wild Hunt, perhaps? Shame, though. I like the bloodhounds. The riders always look so shiny and proud and tall, erect in their saddles, and the dogs are shiny and joyful.

Up the Gurt Chalk Hill and onto the hilltop golf course. Despite the sunshine, only a few golfers were out today, and most of them were rummaging in gorse bushes, or preparing their shots from the adjacent footpath, or frowning, puzzled, into the distance, or wading through long grass, looking disconsolate. From this, I can only assume that all golf balls had been replaced with a golden snitch, that flew wherever it wished. On the way home, some hours later, all the golfers had gone. The club house, however, was surrounded by cars and exuded an air of conviviality, so I expect all the golfers had decided to indulge in the version of the golf that replaces the actual golf part with beer.

Walking along the seawall, watching the crashing of enormous waves, my ankle went over on a stone. I managed to avoid a fall, but only by doing a desperate triple hop, with my other leg waving behind me like the statue of Eros - albeit an Eros with mud-encrusted boots and wind-tossed Medusa hair. The few people in the area politely refrained from laughing.

Past the Tennyson Monument, then, and across West High Down towards the radar station above the Needles. Gravity seemed to increase three fold at this point, and even level ground felt like a mighty hill. Then I tagged the radar station and turned back, and suddenly it was as if I had wings on my boots. It was a case of Buy One Step, Get 20% Extra Free. It was nice to have the wind spirits batting for my team at least, but I had to tell my muscles to be vigilant, lest my leading leg got whisked so far forward that I did impromptu splits.

I paused to eat a sandwich by the Beacon, where a Border Terrier called Scruffy found me, and proceeded to gaze so imploringly at my sandwich that it was quite obvious that it had never been fed in a MILLION YEARS and there was only one thing in life that it had ever wanted, and that was my sandwich. I told it that no, this was MY lunch. Even had I wanted to feed it, I couldn't risk relaxing my two-handed grip on the sandwich, in case it blew away across the sea, to land on the head of a surprised gentleman in Beaulieu.

Back on the golf course, the wind decided to come at me obliquely, half helping me along, but half pushing me sideways, so my gait started to resemble that of an urgent crab, desperate to head north.

Two weeks ago, on my first decent walk since breaking my toe, I was pleasantly surprised by how easy I found the first few hills. However, after three of the things, my leg muscles decided to have a screaming tantrum every time I presented them with even a tiny slope, and bellow that I was placing cruel and unnatural expectations on them. Today, despite the best efforts of the wind, I did exactly the same walk, and my leg muscles were tantrum free, even on the last, biggest hill. I plodded up it quite steadily... only to be effortlessly overtaken by a yellow-clad fell runner, bespattered with mud up to his chin, who whizzed by like a fleet gazelle. (We don't have fells round here, so I expect he should be called a Down Runner, but I like the idea of "fell running," which I feel far better conveys the concept of the sport than the positively relaxed sounding "down running".)

As I neared the car park, the spaniels were much thinner on the ground than first thing in the morning. However, there is clearly some scientific principle that states that spaniel exuberance must remain constant in any given area. There were only five (plus a stray Jack Russell, who looked perturbed at being brought to what was clearly a spaniel-only car park.) One was disappearing into the distance. Two were puppies. Their owner took careful advance action, and led them on a big loop away from the path, to try to put a great clump of gorse bushes between them and the tempting walker, but to no avail. Out bounded the puppies and tried to launch themselves into the stratosphere by way of my head. The final two spaniels were in the rutted and pitted car park, bounding up to strangers and doing belly flops in the muddy puddles beside them. "Don't worry," said one bespattered stranger to the apologetic owner, "I'm just relieved it's not MY dog this time. It usually is."

It started to rain when I was five steps from the car. Undeterred, a large number of newly-arrived cars were busy suiting up in waterproofs and preparing to unleash their spaniels.

Comments

[themis1.livejournal.com]

Wight Conservation Trust? Oh, please tell me this is a real thing! I just can't ... snigger ... giggle ...

[ladyofastolat.livejournal.com]

I can't remember if it's the Wight Conservation Trust or the Wight Preservation Group or the Wight Conservancy Council or any other similar variant, but it's a genuine real something whose name means Organisation That Looks After Wights, and it has put its name proudly on the notices beside the barrows.

[themis1.livejournal.com]

This makes me ridiculously happy :-)

[leesa_perrie]

LOL! Spaniels do tend to be rather bouncy - especially springer spaniels, who are aptly named!! Love the border terrier! Dogs are soooo good at the 'never been fed ever' stare, I'm impressed with your ability to withstand it! :D

So, windy then?

[wellinghall.livejournal.com]

My father had springer spaniels for many years, and then (with a break for flatcoats) moved to cocker spaniels. I can vouch for the bounciness of all three breeds!

[leesa_perrie]

My neighbour has a springer spaniel. One day he came home from a long walk and the dog actually looked tired! I couldn't believe it!! He said, sure, the dog was tired, but give him a drink and five (or less) minutes of rest and he'd be back to full bounce!! :D :D

Good to know other spaniels are just as bouncy! :D

[songblaze.livejournal.com]

American cockers tend to be less bouncy than British ones, being heavier bodied and generally treated as lap dogs.

[ladyofastolat.livejournal.com]

Very. I'm surprisingly shattered now, since all but about 2 miles of the walk involved either walking directly into the wind or with the wind trying to drive me sideways.

I don't like to feed other people's animals without their owners' permission, and Scruffy's owners were bent over at 45 degrees, labouring up the hill into the wind, plaintively calling his name to try to lure him away from me. Despite his small size, he was the only creature involved in the encounter who seemed entirely unaffected by the gale. :-D

[wellinghall.livejournal.com]

It probably helped that he was so small, as the air is often calmer in the foot or so above the ground.

[puddleshark.livejournal.com]

Sounds like a splendid walk! For you and all the exuberant spaniels.

...suddenly it was as if I had wings on my boots...

I love that moment when you turn for home and suddenly the wind - who has either been forming a solid wall to impede your progress, or has been making repeated attempts to shove you into a ditch - is suddenly your friend.

[ladyofastolat.livejournal.com]

It was indeed a lovely feeling. I knew the wind was causing me problems, but I hadn't realised just how much of a difference it was making until I turned round and suddenly found that it was my friend. I was 20 minutes quicker on the way back, despite stopping for lunch. Normally I'm slower on the back home because weariness is kicking in.

All the spaniels were indeed having a whale of a time. If being a whale involves wallowing in muddy puddles and chasing rooks, at any rate.

[topum.livejournal.com]

I could never withstand that hungry gaze. They always get me.

[ladyofastolat.livejournal.com]

I usually gave in to the starving gaze of my own cats, but I don't like to feed other people's animals without their permission, and this dog's owners were too far away, and too busy fighting the wind, to be asked. Besides, I was hungry, and my lunch was small. :-)

[ylla.livejournal.com]

Why do gales have teeth? Hail bites you, but gales just lean on you and try to push you over.

I sometimes meet a westie puppy on my way home from work, which is apprpximately the cutest thing ever. Spaniel puppies might come close, though.

[ladyofastolat.livejournal.com]

Hmm... I don't know. It certainly felt as if it had teeth when it nipped at my ears, determined to turn them to blocks of ice. And from the bird's nest that my hair was at the end of the walk - despite my best efforts at keeping it secured with clips - it had eager, tangling fingers.

[ylla.livejournal.com]

Hmm, ok. We only had Noisy Wind and rain, so I can't speak from experience :)

I usually wear some kind of hat in the wind, to keep my hair from blowing in my eyes, but one day last spring it got so windy that my hat nearly blew away, so I don't know what you do* when it gets like that!

*Except hide in valleys.

[songblaze.livejournal.com]

Good tight braids are vastly superior to clips for managing hair over a few inches long in heavy winds.

[learnsslowly.livejournal.com]

Of course, the collective noun for spaniels is an exuberance. Why didn't anyone realise before? And might I suggest a wag of Labradors?

[ladyofastolat.livejournal.com]

When I walk along the coast, it often looks more like a Sogginess of Labradors, but I guess a Wag of Labradors is more generally applicable. :-D

[songblaze.livejournal.com]

Perhaps an enthusiasm of labradors? Or wait, better, an eagerness of Labradors. I've never met a breed more eager than a healthy lab, who is eager about everything. People, new tricks, toys, walks, playtime, food, something smelly, etc etc etc.

[siglinde99.livejournal.com]

This was my favourite post all weekend. I loved your descriptions (and all the dogs).

[ladyofastolat.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I hadn't planned to write up my walk, or I'd have taken my camera with me, but the mind has to do SOMETHING during solo walks, and apparently yesterday what my mind wanted to do was write an LJ post about everything it saw.

[rubygirl29.livejournal.com]

You had me at "An exuberance of spaniels." What a perfect description!