On Monday, we went for another very long walk, only this time we needed to walk up a very steep hill. The day was glorious. Our destination - the village of Aldbury, followed by a walk to Ashridge House, in the Chiltern Hills.
The Chiltern Hills are actually called The Chilterns. They are a ridge of chalk hills that run through Hertfordshire and Buckinghamshire. The Chilterns were designated an 'Area of Outstanding Beauty' in 1965. They continue to be well managed today and are very popular with walkers.
When we arrived in Aldbury, the May Fair was about to begin, and there were no car parks available, but luckily we were able to get a park behind one of the pubs, called the Valiant Trooper. And even luckier, the pub gardens were empty so we were able to drink our refreshments in peace. Soft drinks of course. And no coffee either. A very quaint little pub, with much history, mostly positive.
I was fascinated with the buildings in the village, although it was difficult to take a photograph as there were so many cars parked on the side of the road. Aldbury is worth looking up on the internet, as it has much history attached to it, and the village has been the site for many a film and television series. There are a troop of Morris Men based here, and we saw them standing outside the pub, but did not wait around to see them dance. This was a pity as I love to watch Morris Dancers. I also found out that there are stocks and a whipping post still standing by the village pond, which I would have taken photographs of, had I looked on the internet before I visited the village. I wonder if they are still used.
Aldbury was a hive of industry, and full of people, due to the May Fare. Apparently they had the best turnout of people in years, no doubt due to the lovely warm and sunny weather.
The church tower, standing high among the tombstones. And yes, Brian, the grass had been mowed, sort of anyway, as they used the church grounds for stalls. There was a church behind the tower, and inside there were bellringers, and a chapel with two immaculate tombstones, belonging to Sir Robert Whittingham and 'his lady'. There were no missing noses or feet, so obviously the rebels during the Reformation did not reach this remote corner of England.
We left the village crowds, and walked up a very steep path, which was crowded with people walking down towards the village, to the plateau which was once the home of the Egerton family. The Ashridge common and woods are now managed by the National Trust. The Bridgewater tower was built in memory of the 3rd Duke of Bridgewater (a member of the Egerton family). His mother insisted that it was built at a long distance from the house, as she did not want to be reminded of her 'infernal' son. Not much family love there, it seems.
The area around the monument was packed with people, and the approach to the monument was packed with cars. Where did all those people come from, but then it was a public holiday, and glorious weather.
We walked along the common land until we came to Ashridge House, which is now privately owned, and is one of the world's leading business schools, and a leading provider of tailored executive education. Well that is according to the blurb on their internet web page. The gardens are open during the summer, and I think are worth seeing, so we must mark that down for a return visit.
We were now feeling very weary, and no pub in sight either. So the next best thing was to lie down on the warm grass. Not a very elegant picture, I know, but it was a comfortable resting spot.
And when I looked up, all I could see were blue skies and fluffy white clouds. Bliss.
Finally we proceeded to walk back to the Bridgewater Monument, taking care not to trip on the indents in the soil that the seemingly hundreds of horses made with their hooves. And watching Poppy to make sure that she did not devour any horse poo.
We also made a detour into the woods in order to bypass the hundreds of parked cars. The woods were beautiful and we noticed that the bluebells were just beginning to open up, a month late though.
And down the steep hill, until we came back to Aldbury, which was even busier than earlier on. There was even a traffic jam in the middle of the village.
I stopped for a minute to take another photograph of yet another picturesque house.
And finally back to the pub, the Valiant Trooper, but there was no room in this inn, not unless you wanted to stand shoulder to shoulder with other people. And we wanted to sit down, and enjoy our drinks.
So we drove to another village, Wigginton, to a lovely little pub, which was nearly deserted. The name of this pub escapes me, but it was a great little pub, and worth coming back here for a meal. And this time we decided to drink something a bit more substantial than soft drinks (excluding Walter and Lucy). Shandies for Donna and I, and an alcoholic ginger beer for Patrick. They hardly hit the sides.
Then home for a barbeque, some wine, while still sitting outside in the sunshine.
And after making a few repairs to the van, completed by Patrick, and supervised by Walter, we reluctantly left Tring, and drove home again. A truly lovely long weekend.
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