The Mill to Knettishall Heath.

Hardly a church in sight today. 

I’m at the end.

I buy a coffee from the friendly mobile man in the car park of Knettinshall Common and talk about the walk and things in general. More regulars come and go. Casually, I wander off to sit down to try and find an Uber taxi. The connection is not good to start with, and then they link me in. But after 10 minutes or so, they ( or it) admit they can’t help.

I phone the pub in Thetford where I’m staying tonight, but all I get is a recorded message from Greene King, which is useless for my enquiry.

Back to Phil, I’m on first-name terms by now, for a second coffee. More regulars, mainly dog walkers, come and go. Some chat longer than others. One, long-haired Steve with his dog, lingers longest and seems interested in my predicament.

“You don’t live in Thetford, do you?” is my direct question. “No, I don’t” is the reply. He stays in the opposite direction, but it was worth a try. The chat continues as the car park starts to empty. “How far is it to Thetford?’ he asks. “About 6 miles or so, I think.” Phil confers. After a bit of thought, he offers to give me a lift using an expression I didn’t recognise, but literally meaning just for the friendship of it. He refuses payment, also, just for the friendship of it.

More chatting with Phil and others whilst I make friends with Steve’s dog, my soon-to-be travelling companion. Then bidding farewell to Phil, we wander across the car park and onto the road where a battered old open-back Land-rover is parked, probably illegally on the verge, to avoid the parking charges. It is unlocked, but Steve pulls a steering wheel from his rucksack, which he then attaches to the stem, his effective anti-theft device. What next? Well, the passenger door doesn’t open easily, so I climb in over the back.

Then we are off, and despite the rattles and the draughts through the missing windows, we sail along happily with the engine purring away. I navigate the few miles to the outskirts of Thetford, where I get him to drop me off without getting caught in complicated traffic. I leave some money in his dashboard for a bottle of wine for his genuine kindness. I have to be helped out of the cab before he can turn round and roar off. A special encounter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And what of the walking today? Outside the towns, Suffolk is a patchwork of large fields and woods. Well, it isn’t the best.

A long trudge up the dusty lane from my B&B, A short but very noisy walk on a narrow verge of a hectic road. It takes some time for my senses to settle down once I reach the relative calm of the next byway. One doesn’t always realise how polluting noise is.

The sandy track passes more pig farms and vast harvested fields.

Not a farmhouse in sight. Modern farming just needs storage, heavy machinery and workers, probably living in nearby towns.

I found out where all the mashed-up maize goes before it is permanently stored. A tumulus of mulch. For a time, I drift off and imagine I’m on the beach.

Somewhere along the way, I go off to investigate this hummock – is it an anthill? Sadly not. It gets me thinking, when did I last see a wood ant’s nest?

I see, only just, my first horse rider trotting off down the Duke’s Way, where I’m not allowed.

Another busy road lies ahead at Euston, where maybe I could catch a train home, well, not from this Euston. I cross a bridge over the River Blackbourne. The flint wall around the Euston Estate has some unusual additions.

I sit by the village green, all is part of the estate.

In the hall’s grounds, but a little too far off track, is an interesting church. I think you have had enough interesting churches this week.

Capability Brown was responsible for the design of the estate’s grounds.

Despite signs directing the IW walker off down a public right-of-way outside the walls, the route leads inside the grounds on a permissive footpath between mature oak, beech, and sweet chestnut trees.  I’m bombarded from above by acorns and beech nuts; it must be a mast year. 

Giant puffballs are the size of footballs.

On I go, a trig point appears in the middle of nowhere. 49m, I’m feeling dizzy.

After crossing another road, smaller paths are used through the woods. Finding a tree trunk to sit on for a chocolate break. The trunk is a work of art. 

The path narrowed, and I find myself pushing through the shrubbery. The aroma from the Ivy flowers is quite strong, something I’ve not noticed before. The insects are buzzing around it – a late supply of nectar.

Hidden in the brambles is an Icknield Way Milestone. I’m nearing the end.

Entering Knettishall Common, the scenery changes to a more pleasing vista; gone are those vast agricultural fields. I end up walking on the agar of Peddars Way Roman Road.

The last time I stood at this sign was in 2015 with my old mate Mel, we had just completed the Angles Way from Great Yarmouth. We walked the Peddars Way back in 2003.

It is good to be back.

All I have to do is walk down to the car park, have a coffee, and hail a taxi.

*

It seems a long time ago I stood on Ivinghoe Beacon. Now, what about the Wessex part of the Great Chalk Way?