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ALL IN A DAY'S WALK

It can serve as a helpful 'Third Leg' for negotiating tricky footpaths and awkward stiles; for sounding the depth of puddles and streams; testing the fitness (or otherwise) of squelchy ground, and is also quite effective as a Bramble and Nettle basher when ploughing through heavy undergrowth, or overgrowth. I refer of course to that most useful of Rambling accessories, The Walking Stick. I have over a period possessed quite a number of Walking Sticks myself, of various shapes, sizes and styles, each having its own particular character and individuality. I say 'have possessed', in the Past Tense; as for some strange reason I seem to have developed an inexplicable but undeniable tendency to part company with Walking Sticks. It does seem that just as I'm getting used to the size, grip and general feel of a particular stick and beginning to regard it as a trusty Friend and Companion - Whoosh! There it is, Gone. The countryside, I'm sure, must be virtually littered with Walking Sticks of mine which have suddenly taken it upon themselves to 'Up Sticks', (so to speak) and go off to find Fresh Fields and Pastures New, leaving me to start again with a complete stranger. It's all very disconcerting.
 

One of the more recent episodes in this seemingly on-going Saga occurred on the occasion of a certain Birthday Celebration beside the River Thames back in June when I found myself in possession of a small collection of walking related items, - a Pair of Boots, the ingredients for a Picnic, a Tree Stump for sitting on while Picnicking, and - Yes, Surprise Surprise, - a Walking Stick, which was indeed a delight to the eye, a credit to its creator, and which, with the accompanying items bought gasps of admiration from the assembled company, - a moment, and an occasion, one felt, to be Treasured in the Memory…..

Whoever first said "Nothing is Permanent" certainly knew a Thing or Two, for I have to report that the splendid creation featured in the foregoing has now been added to the ever growing list of Walking Sticks I no longer possess. In other words it has, to coin a phrase, - Gone! But this was no ordinary, common or garden Walking Stick, it was something different, very special, quite unique, and as such if it really had to follow so many of its predecessors into the Past, was deserving of a fate appropriate to its very special qualities.

So I didn't leave it leaning against a tree, lurking behind a bush, hanging on a fence, or just lying in the grass, - nothing so mundane or common place as that. In fact I didn't actually lose it at all - no, I have a confession to make, - the simple truth is, I ate it. It really was delicious, and I have to say, so were the Boots, the Picnic, the Tree Stump, and all the etceteras! - Treasured Memories Indeed.

P.S. At the end of the aforementioned day beside the River Thames, the coach arrived at the appointed meeting place, but had to be turned around before the party could get aboard. During the difficult maneuver, in the confines of a narrow country lane, an access panel on the coach was damaged and distorted by heavy contact with the grass verge and could not be re-locked. As the homeward journey could not be undertaken with the panel flapping loose there was some delay while discussion what should be done. But with a wealth of brains, ingenuity and every High Tech available the problem was solved and the journey home successfully completed. From which arises a piece of sound advice - always carry a spare bootlace in your rucksack; you never know when it might come in handy for mending a bus.

Ron Peaple (with stick in photo above)

Photos by Margie Harriott

Article first appeared in October 2002 Newsletter