A chance visit to St George's fayre at March and a walk across the Fens.
Walking back into March this morning I noticed stalls erected in the park south of the river, curious, I went to investigate. It seems St George's day was being celebrated. Perhaps I should have realised yesterday from the flags and bunting with the red cross of St George, England's patron saint. Stalls were still being set up, sound systems on a stage being tested and scouts were gathering for a parade. By a stall selling locally made wooden canoes, coffee and doughnuts were available. Despite having had a cooked breakfast at the Fourwinds campsite I indulged in two doughnuts with my coffee (two being the minimum order).
Leaving March on a path beside the River Nene (the Old Course), the urban surroundings soon changed to large flat, open fields extending to small distant trees on a far horizon. The river, tamed by drainage schemes, ran in a series of straight lines. Boats and barges were moored on the bank, one had sunk. A pumping station managed by the Middle Level Commissioners kept the surrounding land drained. A cluster of wind turbines stood on the other side of the river, bright white when the intermittent sun shone on them, although for most of the day grey cloud formed a ceiling on the sky. At least there was no rain.
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| Wind turbines by the River Nene. |
Turning away from the river the route followed a small drain cut deep in the ground, ruler straight through fields, some brown with recently ploughed earth, some green with a growing crop, and one yellow with rape flowers.
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| Drain. |
Finally reaching the road by the small village of Christchurch, it was time to link up with my cousins and enjoy a rest day, which I felt well earned as the outside of my left heel was starting to give me pain, a common problem on my longer walks. I was however pleased that my knee was holding up well with no evidence of fluid accumulation.
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