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DIARY ODYSSEY LOG - Week 2 Updated 10th January 2002
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Week Two: |
 Bath - Dorstone (Herefordshire) |
Further photographs of this section are available in Gallery 2
Rest Day
Monday 27th August
Bath - Pilning
Tuesday 28th August
Gill:
We're just setting off from Bath Racecourse, by a glorious bridlepath which takes us off that hideous busy road and down by a golf course. We have two riders with us today, Kerry Carson and Janet Johnson, and Ann Fay, the local bridleways officer, has very kindly come along to show us the way.
We go right over the top of the site of a Roman building, though I can't honestly say I saw much of it, and are heading under Hanging Hill. We then go through a farm and pick up a track to Grandmother's Rocks. There's a panoramic view, down over the hill to what I guess is the Cotswolds in the distance; right over to Bristol and both the two Severn Bridges.
We come down into Wick, looking for Jenny and Ann, and the chance to swop riders. I'm looking forward to a stop and a break.
A section of the day's ride was postponed and is reported in our Post-Odyssey log.
Chepstow - Monmouth
Wednesday 29th August
Gill:
A beautiful, dreamy late summer morning, almost autumnal with its heavy dew and misty sunshine. We spent the night at a stable kindly loaned to us by Kerry Carson at Pilning, as close as we could get to the Severn Bridge.
Kaan is quite relaxed this morning; he's been able to see the other horses all night, and for the first time he walks out of his stable like he normally does, and into the box with no fuss. He does, though, shout a bit when he comes out at the other end, just in case there is anyone within earshot to impress, after we'd boxed across the Severn Bridge and unloaded at the first safe place on the other side, Chepstow Racecourse - where we hope to come back to in a month's time with the whole Ride behind us.
Horse and caravan climb the hill at St. Arvans, and enjoy spectacular views across the Severn Estuary. There is a pit-stop at Trellech, where Peter - who is going to drive on the last week - and his wife Ann come out with very welcome refreshments for everybody. Nearly home, for me. All the old, familiar landmarks are coming into view: Orcop Hill, the Skirrid; you can just make out Sugar Loaf, and the Blorenge - those beautiful places which have been so desecrated by Foot-and-Mouth.
We rendezvous just out of Monmouth, and pray that the caravan can make it up the steep hill to home and a day or two's rest.
Rest Day
Thursday 30th August
Rest Day
Friday 31st August
Monmouth
Saturday 1st September

Gemma and Gwyn share a joke with a local policeman
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After a couple of well-earned days' rest at home, it's down into Monmouth
for Kaan, for a press call thanking some of our local sponsors. Gemma, in
Turkoman costume, rides in under the mediaeval arched bridge then hands
Kaan over to Gwyn Hopkins, from Welsh Newton, who has had M.E. for four
years but has now progressed from her wheelchair to manage a few
hundred yards in the saddle. The Police have kindly put bollards out for us
to park the caravan and trailer, and Kaan stamps impatiently in the small
garden in front of the Monmouthshire Beacon offices while the cameras
click.
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Monmouth to (Dorstone)
Sunday 2nd September
We've ridden north from Monmouth and are heading for our first
rendezvous at Skenfrith. The horses are really relaxed and being very good.
Highlight of the journey so far has been the most beautiful buzzard, sitting
on top of a telegraph pole. We must have been within thirty yards of him,
and to watch him take off - the size of him - was magnificent.

A break for Herbie at Skenfrith, while Bobbie (on the right) looks on
It's humid today. Herbie, my Dalesbred is quite sweaty. He's flicking
his ears back and forth because he's getting itchy behind the bridle. He's
been an excellent companion for Kaan.
We've now got as far as Ewyas Harold, and I'm here with Herbie
waiting for Phil to pick me up and box us home. It's now ten past six, and
we've had a lovely day's ride among some beautiful country, and had a real
crack on this afternoon.
I've really enjoyed myself, and I wish everybody well for the rest of
the Odyssey.
Rob (just visiting):
It's been several years since I've been to Skenfrith (just north of Monmouth) but a rendezvous with the Odyssey by the walls of the castle is just the thing to get me back. We arrive early but as the scheduled time comes and goes, we wonder if the lane with a large 'Road Closed Ahead' sign in it means foot-and-mouth has caused the riders to make an unexpected detour and pass us by. Enquiries at the local village shop tell us only that no horse has been seen.
'It's the 2001 Odyssey for M.E.,' I say. 'They're travelling from Dorset to Scotland...'
'John o' Groats?'
'Not likely!! The border! The border! What do you want??'
The road isn't closed for foot-and-mouth, it just has a hole in it. A hole a horse could negotiate with ease. Perhaps we could wander up to meet them. 'Would they be coming that way from Monmouth?'
'They might. On the other hand they might come down that road there'. The lady points in a direction completely opposite to that of the hole road.
Three phone calls, a failed mobile connection, a failed text message (we're in a dip) and an hour later, we still don't know if we've missed them or they just haven't arrived.
Right then. Up the road without the hole.
Past the pub, round by the river, up the sunny, leafy lane...

and immediately we are met by Kaan, a rapidly-tiring Gill and a huge smile, followed by Bobbie and Herbie a few yards behind. We try to keep up but are left trailing.
We start to gain as they slow for the clover patch but when Kaan spots the mares across the way he can't control his wolf-whistles. It's Sunday afternoon and there's to be none of that, so it's onward for plain old grass by the castle walls.
Our enquiries before Gill and Bobbie's arrival have aroused some of the villagers' interest and the word has spread. Some come across to talk. One lady quizzes Gill about her horse and his origins in Central Asia; she then reveals that she knows two people in her tiny church congregation who have M.E.; the editor of the parish magazine comes across, notebook at the ready, and interviews Gill at some length. Not quite what the doctor ordered (which would be a damn good rest) but Gill, now folded into a heap of blue on the grass, provides the information with patience and a smile.
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Next, Phil arrives on his mountain bike, soon followed by the campervan with Caroline, Julie and Supermouse, so now there's quite a gathering. People come over with donations and wish the Ride well. The Editor finds herself in possession of an Odyssey leaflet. 'Oh, it's all in here. I needn't have made all these notes...'
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A few bites of home-made cake from the village shop, Bobbie and Caroline mount up, Phil climbs back in the saddle, Julie, Gill and Supermouse make for the van, and they're off.
So there we are: a snapshot of an ideal Odyssey day in rural Wales - a team of riders for Kaan, riding company in the form of Bobbie and Herbie, Bobbie's husband with his mountain bike, and recovered ME-er Supermouse who's walking parts of the stage (but only the level and downhill bits!), and real interest in the horse, the team and the cause.
You're left with no other sentiment than to wish them every success.
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Caroline Baldock (one of the first professional female jockeys and currently literary assistant to internationally-known horse trainer Monty Roberts):
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Lunch time and it's time to take over Kaan. Bobbie is my companion today. She runs a website called bridlerides.co.uk, a holiday business organising and planning clients' riding routes throughout the bridleways of England.

Leaving Skenfrith, the castle up on the right

Crossing the Monnow at Skenfrith
Bobbie and I set off
going left from the castle and tackled some wonderful tiny roads, winding
through some of the most delightful English countryside. Herefordshire is perhaps
the last bastion of rural England. The views from the roads was astounding.
Green rolling countryside, thickly wooded in places and tiny flower-filled
gardens fronting stone cottages. Farms that had not seen modernisation
snuggled into the hills, quiet and unspoilt in this rural world. Chickens
scurried around and dogs barked rather lazily as we trotted past. 'How far
from London', I thought.
We finally got the point where Bobbie and I were to part and I to go on
alone. I pressed Kaan into a trot and asked Bobbie to tell the team I would head
for Newton.
That was my undoing. I had no specs and no way to read my map and no mobile
phone. Well they caught up with me but following a misunderstanding I went
left instead of right. Left took me to Balls Cross, a nowhere place. The
road was quiet. There was one house I passed and asked the gentleman in the
garden if he had seen a while horse box trailer. No! I was seriously lost.
So I turned round and headed back. Still no sign of the van. They were going frantic!
Where the hell was I?
 Caroline and Kaan
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I by this time was heading
towards Newton St Margarets. Another quiet lane with nothing but sheep
either side and not a sign of a farmhouse. I tracked down that road for ages
and then realising it was getting dark I really began to wonder what was
going to be the end of this scenario. I had no idea what to do. I suddenly decided to
turn round. I headed back to the road where I had last seenthe van. As I rode
past a gate I spotted two people.
'What are you doing around here?' quizzed the lady.
'Actually,' I said, 'I'm looking for someone to rescue me. I'm lost.'
'Come on in and we'll get you to a phone.'
They were delightful. She and her partner Terry, took me to a stable yard
and there was a box all ready for a horse to step into it. Kaan couldn't
wait. He was dying for a roll.
I phoned the team, downed two large gin and tonics and chatted to Jill who had
kindly rescued me. I soon discovered that they were natives of Brixton just
two miles down the road from me. How small the world is!
The team finally arrived thankful that I was safe and Kaan was OK. We boxed him
not without incident and set off for home.
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