Malmesbury Bridges Walk - April 2017
Luke Rhinehart made me move to Malmesbury! OK, so he didn’t make me, but reading The Dice Man in the early spring of 2004 inspired a series of events that went like this: play dice games to decide what to do; quit perfectly good job to embark on 6 month sabbatical; learn to ride and get motorbike license; move from the flat, treeless landscape of Cambridge, back West to the undulating, fertile Cotswold landscape of my childhood. Thirteen years later and I’m still enchanted with this little hilltop town every single day.
Malmesbury’s origins date back to the middle of the sixth century, after the Saxons gained final control over this part of the country from the Britons. Its hilltop position, its several freshwater springs and the confluence of rivers surrounding it made it perfect for defending against Viking attack. Listed in the Doomsday book, Malmesbury is the oldest borough in England, with a charter given by Alfred the Great around 880. It was home to the first King of England, Athelstan (buried in the Abbey since his death in 939). Successive generations have populated Malmesbury for two and a half millennia. I am an insignificant micro-blip in its history.
By 6.00am this morning I was tromping across the dewy grass alongside the river - one of the rivers - with a view to the Abbey, heading for Conygre Mead nature reserve, on the Malmesbury Bridges Walk. Thanks to the various rivers - mostly branches of the Avon - and the old railway line, there are more than enough bridges to warrant a dedicated bridges walk. And it was stunning! The sunrise, the mist, the birdsong and the landscape all had a fairytale feel to it. Totally at odds, of course, with my distinct lack of grace. While I managed to cross every stile without slipping and whacking my shins (a small victory), I did disturb a muntjac deer who held my gaze for a few moments then, naturally, scarpered before I could get a photo; and a sleeping swan. Well, technically, the moorhen I startled disturbed the sleeping swan when it flew straight at its head.
Walking is my meditation, my therapy, my inspiration, my headspace, and I am perpetually grateful to have so many beautiful, soul enriching walks right on my doorstep. Thanks Luke!
Malmesbury’s origins date back to the middle of the sixth century, after the Saxons gained final control over this part of the country from the Britons. Its hilltop position, its several freshwater springs and the confluence of rivers surrounding it made it perfect for defending against Viking attack. Listed in the Doomsday book, Malmesbury is the oldest borough in England, with a charter given by Alfred the Great around 880. It was home to the first King of England, Athelstan (buried in the Abbey since his death in 939). Successive generations have populated Malmesbury for two and a half millennia. I am an insignificant micro-blip in its history.
By 6.00am this morning I was tromping across the dewy grass alongside the river - one of the rivers - with a view to the Abbey, heading for Conygre Mead nature reserve, on the Malmesbury Bridges Walk. Thanks to the various rivers - mostly branches of the Avon - and the old railway line, there are more than enough bridges to warrant a dedicated bridges walk. And it was stunning! The sunrise, the mist, the birdsong and the landscape all had a fairytale feel to it. Totally at odds, of course, with my distinct lack of grace. While I managed to cross every stile without slipping and whacking my shins (a small victory), I did disturb a muntjac deer who held my gaze for a few moments then, naturally, scarpered before I could get a photo; and a sleeping swan. Well, technically, the moorhen I startled disturbed the sleeping swan when it flew straight at its head.
Walking is my meditation, my therapy, my inspiration, my headspace, and I am perpetually grateful to have so many beautiful, soul enriching walks right on my doorstep. Thanks Luke!
