Despite the combined best efforts of British and French railways (cancelled train, catering malfunctions, accidents on line…) in a triumph of logistics and planning Rose and I made it to Strasbourg.
Even more impressively we actually arrived on the same day as each other.
Modern consumer capitalism purports to provide the 21st century person with an array of choice in all manner of areas. However, melding choice with competition actually results in something called ‘choice paralysis’. For sure, monopolies do exist. But in many areas of our lives it is not a monopoly that constrains us, but the time it requires to select a single product from the bountiful shelves of plenty.
Of course, at this point we should acknowledge that for many global inhabitants choices are severely restricted by economic inequality, culture and circumstance. All the more galling then when we allegedly fortunate ones are confronted by a proliferation of spurious alternatives, requiring us to engage our intellectual energies in unnecessary activity. All those resources expended on producing 50 different types of tins of bean when for most people, beans are beans are beans.
In actual fact, Rose and I have somewhat limited intellectual energies. At our age, we much prefer to receive that which will sustain us with very little thought on our part. If it does the job, let’s leave it there. Give me a tin of beans and be done with it.
So, what has all this got to do with maps? Well, it appears that since we took possession of ‘The Garmin’, the field of online navigation has become rather congested. Navigation apps on handheld screens are now ubiquitous. Multiple companies provide opportunities for us to gawp at the way a little blue dot seems to be pointing us in unwanted directions over indeterminate terrain. Provided your phone batteries keep hanging in there.
Why not just use ‘The Garmin’ and be done with it? Good question. Sure, who wouldn’t want to pack their knapsack with a house brick? Granted it has a nice big battery, hence the weight. But it also needs a special charger and special spectacles (its screen is tiny). The Garmin system is great for planning walks on a computer, but you do not actually need ‘The Garmin’ to follow these routes. So, our routes remain in the virtual world and ‘The Garmin’ in the desk drawer.
When Rose first pitched the idea of a walk in the Deutsch woods, he found our wander on an app called Komoot. Using Komoot you can discover crowd sourced wanders completely for free. Rose loves this concept. However, like most similar products, Komoot sucks you into the world of ‘in-app purchases’. In the free version, the maps are basic, and you cannot use the app to actually navigate. Even buying a one-off reasonably priced total world map pushes you further to annual navigation subscriptions and other unnecessary accoutrements. Nonetheless, with a route and the online map you can use Komoot to wander. Hello little blue dot.
As observant readers will note, we have in fact purchased a real-life Kompass paper map with folds and a waterproof cover. A map that will flutter in the breeze and blow away in a gale. Goodbye little blue dot.
However, the good people at the Kompass Karten Company have responded to competition from the online navigation and map providers by replicating their paper maps online themselves. Their maps come with a QR code that once scanned uploads your purchase into their own app. You can even import routes from elsewhere and overlay them on their online map. Welcome back little blue dot!
Enter ‘Pocket Earth’, an app recommended by a travel agency for their self-guided walking holidays. It does the same as the others, is free, and allows us to download our routes (thanks Garmin and Komoot). The embedded map is quite good too. This one has a little blue arrow!
And of course, we have omitted to mention the granddaddy of them all – Google Maps. Renowned for taking east European lorry drivers and unwary holiday makers up impassable alleys and one-way streets, it is nonetheless helpful on a macro scale. Rose and I are, nonetheless, somewhat nervous about being told to jump off 200m high cliffs by the good people at google as a means to shorten a 50m path detour. Plus, you cannot upload a .gpx file to google maps.
Ahh – the .gpx file, the currency of modern navigation. Readable by almost all navigation and mapping apps, we have copied, constructed and liberally dispersed our own .gpx files all over the various mapping products described above. Here it is! We now find ourselves in the (un)enviable position of being able to flip from app to app, from little blue dot to arrow, from blurred to detailed online maps.
We can even unfold our paper version, should we wish to go all retro.
It seems to us, therefore, that most of our wander will be spent peering at our phone screens to see how close our various blue signs are to our intended route. We can imagine heated conversations extolling the accuracy of Komoot, Kompass and Pocket Earth. We may even part company and follow our own preferred pathing app, swapping navigation notes at the end of our days wanders.
Or we can stick together, follow the signposts and look at the scenery.
Rose recently alerted us to a new concept coming out of the world of psychology, an area of life of which we are both not unaware, if also somewhat cynical of. Rather wonderfully, given the destination of our upcoming wander, the term he introduced into our shared lexicon was a German term ‘Vorfreude‘ or ‘the anticipation of joy’.
Apparently, winding ourselves up into a frenzy of expectation regarding our Black Forest adventure is actually of great benefit to our mental health. There is certainly no doubt about it, we are both in a state of increasing vorfreude as our start date looms. Personally, I am so vorfreuden I am fit to burst, or as the Germans would put it: sehrvielenvorfreudenburstmachen. (Put it in google translate, the word actually works).
According to one of the experts quoted in the Gurniad article discovered by Rose, people often feel joy and excitement when planning a trip, thinking about going on a date or anticipating a special meal. Well all those things are true of us. Although Rose is not the most eagerly anticipated date night companion, as well as the trip I shall be discovering the joy of turning 65 during our wander, and Rose has promised me a special Geburtstagsessen. So two out of three ain’t bad.
Apparently, looking forward to something increases the pleasure of the event itself. So we are actually having two wanders: one imaginary, the other real. The article lists 30 ‘zero-effort’ ways to fill our lives with joy. Not so sure about the zero effort bit though. We recently had a look at the gradients on our forthcoming wander….and the gym is far from the zero effort recommended by the Gurniad. Nonetheless, pouring over maps, tracing routes in highlighter pen and imagining experiencing the multiple wellness treats provided by the Black Forest hotels seems to fit the bill nicely. Very sehrvielenvorfreudenburstmachenwellness.
Among the other vorfreuden tricks listed we will most certainly engage in are savouring the moment (check), treating ourselves (check), scheduling movement (very much a check), looking for natural wonders (check), throwing a party (check, see earlier comment regarding Geburtstagsessen) and enjoying getting ready for bed (check, post wander exhaustion really helps here). There are a few duds though including meal planning, a daily poem and going to the library, none of which seem to fit into our rugged wander existence.
However, FUTURE ALERT, ‘putting plans in writing’ and ‘keeping a joy journal’ are right up there, despite worries about potential joy journal messiness. We have been much taken with recent Facebook postings by friends @DouglasThompson and @PaulWheble on their respective wanders. We will be doing similar. Please follow @WanderingMan for daily posts on the wander and delve into our very own daily Joy Journal, or as the Germans would say, “sehrvielenvorfreudenburstmachentäglichjoyjournal“.
As regular readers of these think pieces will know, our wanders can sometimes head off on unexpected paths. Hardly surprising, in that on two occasions we have actually set off ‘sans maps’. In Nepal, we even arrived back at our start point to buy a map and guidebook to read on the flight home. You know, so we could see where we had been.
Some basic insights seem well overdue. For example, that maps are designed to guide your way. That they include information on roads, paths, buildings, contours and so on. Amazingly, maps are orientated north/south, allowing the map reader to position themselves with reference to where the sun rises and sets. You cannot get lost with a map. Can you?
In 2017, we took possession of a failsafe electronic navigation device, the Garmin. Weighing slightly less than a standard house brick, plus auxiliary battery pack, the Garmin doubled our Nepalese backpack tonnage. Furthermore, the electronic map we installed was woefully inadequate. Nepal does not possess (or at least the Garmin version of Nepal) a serious set of Ordnance Survey maps. It got us out of trouble just the once. The map we bought in Kathmandu on the way home was much better and lighter, even if somewhat late for our purposes.
But this time, we are heading off to one of the most developed countries in the world. Surely, mapping would have been brought to the very peak of sophistication by the methodologically minded germans. We went looking.
Indeed, our proposition is true. Germany has a network of fabulous maps. But (there is always one of those, isn’t there), identifying the correct map, and then finding somewhere to sell one to you is quite another thing altogether. Stanfords Map Shop in London didn’t list one remotely likely option. Another UK shop looked more hopeful. The dilemma was less identification than selection. There was no way to figure out which map we needed. So, we took a punt and ordered what we thought was the right one.
Sadly, a miss. Perhaps more of a maybe than a miss, but definitely not a hit. If we had been walking a few miles to the west it would have been ideal. But we were not, and it was not. Happily, a wonderful French company came good, and we ordered the next easterly version of the Kompass Map series and hit the bullseye. Baiersbronn, our start and finish point, sat squarely in the middle of our new purchase.
So now, like an expert carpenter, we had the right tool. A lightweight, accurate and relevant means to find our way around the Black Forest. What could go wrong? What indeed.
All of the wanders outlined in these blogs have presented multiple challenges. One might imagine that route finding in the Black Forest would be somewhat more simple than wandering around the poorly mapped hinterlands of Nepal or Rwanda. To be confirmed or not once we get there. We actually have a map this time. A real one. With impossible to replicate folds. The full package.
Happily, we also seem to have overcome the vagaries of booking dot…really, albeit Rose did initially book one accommodation venue for the right day but the wrong year. There is though, a further trial ahead. Mix five years aging with lockdown inactivity and a soupcon of decrepitude and the finely honed bodies of our last wander are but a distant memory. Yes, we are not the men we used to be.
Wandering man and Rose have taken different paths to feebleness, one more prosaic, the other quite exotic. In the case of Wandering Man, the relentless but somewhat predictable advance of arthritis has led to periods of enforced inactivity interspersed with the insertion of spectacular bits of metal into the spine. Quietly confident, after the resulting disappearance of neurological claudication, i.e. the ability to feel his feet again, there remains only the wobbly knee syndrome and muscular atrophy to conquer. Plus of course the maintenance of heart health which observant readers will be well aware prompted these wanders in the first place.
Rose, however, does it differently. In a colourful list of ailments to have assailed him since our last wander, he lists an eyelid tic (the insect variety, not the behavioural disorder), a bout of Dengue Fever and a broken Achilles tendon. All of these infirmities have been a consequence of toxic encounters with other members of the animal kingdom. Even the Achilles issue came about as Rose sought to release an elongated, limbless, carnivorous reptile of the suborder Serpentes – a snake to you and me – that had become tangled in some netting covering a well in Rose’s garden.
Apparently there are wolves in the Black Forest, so on current form Rose will probably experience some other anatomical malfunction consequent upon a close encounter of the Canis lupus lupus form.
Predictably, we have taken different approaches to regaining lost youthful vigour. Wandering man has joined two gyms and now undertakes grim exercises with intimidating names such as ‘front squat with dumbbell’, ‘deadlift’, ‘press on flat bench’ and the hideous ‘alternating sled push/pull’. Rose, on the other hand goes for walks on the beach. And it’s a lovely beach, with sand and waves and no gym music. Absolutely no gym music. Whilst Rose listens to the gentle crash of waves and observes the ocean, Wandering man endures thumping bass and watches the TV to learn all about food he is not allowed to eat from the cooking programmes taunting him above the gym machines.
Because dieting is, of course, the other ‘regime’. Enforced inactivity and French cuisine have taken their toll. Years of natural selection have allowed the average French person to tolerate morning pastries, extensive two-hour lunches, rich sauces, and fine wines. No such luck for the average Anglo Saxon like Wandering man, who balloons atthe mere mention of the word Cassoulet. As for Rose, he is in a better position in finding hot climates incompatible with eating food. It also helps that he spends hours round the garden, pursuing his chickens who give him the right run around. Whereas most people take the dogs out, it’s the chickens that take Rose for walks.
So here we are, trying to lose weight and put on muscle mass in a vain attempt to rediscover the elixir of our lost youths. How our newly rejuvenated mid-sixties bodies will cope with the first incline, we wait to see. The wander we have planned is called ‘Lakes and Mountains’. Lakes sounds OK, it’s the mountains bit that sends shivers down our spines. What’s left of them anyway.
The Black Forest is both pristine nature and a playground for the rich and idle. Or at least the moderately well off with a bit of time on their hands. Actually, it is a place for the economically distressed and permanently frazzled. Like parents of young children. Or academics.
Consequently, nestling in the valleys below the mountains are many, many alpine style hotels designed to accommodate hordes of people seeking respite from the German industrial complex. They have names like ‘Flair’ Hotel, ‘Wellness’ Hotel, or ‘Luxus Landhaus’. Some of them look like towering apartment blocks, others alpine chalets that have grown too big for their foundations. There are simply hundreds of them.
Choice paralysis. How could Rose and WM possibly make a decision? What were to be our criteria?
Number one emerged early. An informant of ours had warned us that the German definition of a twin-bedded room included two single beds securely fastened together by six-inch nails into a double bed. Individual duvets or not, Rose and WM did not fancy waking up in an inadvertent embrace. The German’s cultural endorsement of naturism and nudity did not apply to us. We are British, after all. Anyway, Rose does not like beards.
So, it meant we were looking for two roomed places. Or a bed and a sofa. Or a bed and a kennel for Rose.
Secondly, we had to find places at the end of our walk stages. We quickly discovered that some of the endpoints were essentially no more than sheep pounds. Call us old and decrepit, (yeah, go on, we know it’s true) but we did decide one of the key criteria was a place with an actual roof. This meant at times we needed to look a little further away from the hiking endpoints.
Enter Booking.com.
One of the world’s most widely used hotel booking sites, booking.com, provides a handy feature whereby you put in a town/village/road name, and it gives you suitable properties either in the town/village/road or nearby. Allegedly.
We quickly discovered a number of significant flaws to this apparently foolproof system. More Booking.really? than booking.yeah! The biggest flaw was that much of the area of the Black Forest we were wandering through came under the urban parish of ‘Baiersbronn’, which was not only our starting point but the postal area of several of the other section endpoints. Most of the hotels we identified ended up being back where we started from. Having planned to wander around 18km a day, we did not really fancy wandering back again just to get a bed for the night.
Our solution was to use the ‘View on Map’ feature in Bookin.really? which at least showed us where the potential guest house was compared to our endpoint. However, another big problem immediately emerged. Almost all the hotels, particularly the small cosy looking ones, were full on the dates we wanted them (fully booked up by October 2023, over seven months from our May 2024 wandering dates). Some did not take people for single nights. We felt inexorably pushed towards the big pantechnicons of pleasure. Hello Flair and Wellness!
Our first foray into booking.really? looked promising. We booked a nice medium sized place right at the beginning of the walk. Unfortunately, the next day we received a message to say that we – yes us, Rose and WM, not them – needed to cancel the booking because the owners were selling up at the end of the year and did not know what was going to happen thereafter. One wonders what would have happened if we had missed the message. Presumably we would have turned up to find the place locked up or turned into an aquarium.
Although there were plenty of other missteps along the way, our final criteria was absolutely inviolate. We had to have bears, preferably of the soft toy variety. No soft toy bears, no booking. Here is one we found earlier…..
What with a global pestilence, and given that Rose and Wanderingman live in different continents, opportunities to perambulate have occurred with vanishing frequency during the 2020s. One futile attempt in 2022 resulted in no more than a 4km wheezy clomp around a French hillside before Rose was confined to barracks. A catastrophic series of multiple quarantine periods followed.
The year 2023 seemed potentially more auspicious, until Wanderingman fell victim to the surgeon’s knife, albeit one that brought feeling back to his feet and promise in the hills. A brief discussion, and the idea was mooted for a 2024 wander. But where?
A Spanish fly was planned – Rose and Co were to be feted at a wedding in Andalusia, with time to spare afterwards. An idea germinated. Something closer to home? Dave and Ann in France live not too far from pristine wandercountry. The Baltics perhaps or somewhere nearer to the centre of Europe?
A dusty old man, pack on back, for the mule was free from such enforced chores
Grey of beard, hair in ears, leathered tanned skin, barefoot, cracked nails. Single tears flowing from wind dried eyes
The mule wanted to rest awhile. Up at around 600 metres he guessed, a view over the plains onto the sea. He’d also rest awhile, see what came to mind. It was his favourite time of day- the without and within mixing it up. Sometimes nothing came, sometimes ordered thoughts, feelings, sensations made sense of a moment. Other times it was a kind of random jumble. All he had to do was notice, let it be.
Woke up this morning
Got them locked in blues
Said a dusty old man with no shoes
Here comes something
I can see the trees for the breeze
The sky from on high,
mountains to climb as fantails fly
Paths with no footprint
Rocks with no blood
Her intentions are clear
Not misunderstood
Locked out, locked down, locked in
As Tim Leary might have said
Yea I woke up this morning
Got them locked in blues
My goodness
Burnished bumblebee with burnt orange pollen struggles against a soft soap sanity breeze imploring the earth to turn
Down on the plains in clear view humans emerge to throw away their threedom on fast food queues
Short trip lives on a long drop landscape
and its
One two three
Look and see
one two three
Bend your knee
One two three
Slide to the side
One two three
As the tramper glides by
It’s the dance of the plague walkers
Gotta find a way to cure them
Gonna put on my tramping shoes
That’s harder than you think right now
He was wearing no shoes at this time because the mule had bitten the hand that helped feed it, now he couldn’t tie a loop for his laces. He’d forgotten how important a thumb was
Time feels like a cut finger
It’s functions unheeded until damaged
It ain’t no universal construct
Ebbing, flowing managed
Not by office building or appointment
Just acceptance, engagement
A world outside not within
Here it comes again, a blessing, for he’d no idea what that was all about
One two three
Look and see
And one two three
Bend your knee
One two three
Slide to the side
One two three
the tramper glides by
It’s the dance of the plague walkers
I can feel the earth trembling
Pushing up towards the sky
Can you feel the earth trembling
Pushing up towards the sky?
Gonna plant my feet upon her
Gonna ride that natural high
He looked up and saw grey sea shell clouds sucking up the white stuff. The temperature began to cool, likewise the mule. The way ahead looked stony and rough. The mule anticipated, snorted, setting off alone.
This 22km walk takes you through the quiet countryside north of Exeter crossing from the Exe Valley into the Creedy Valley via the picturesque villages of Bramford Speke, Stoke Canon and Upton Pyne. Once off the main road out of Exeter it is a mixture of well marked paths, farm tracks and quiet roads. All information was correct as of the 23rd of April 2020. These instructions are for guidance only and do not replace an up to date map and the ability to navigate by it. Walkers choose to follow them at their own risk.
The walk can be started anywhere in the centre of Exeter. The main road north – the A377 – should be followed as far as Cowley Bridge using the high pavement above the road to the right hand side. At Cowley Bridge turn left at a roundabout to cross a series of rail and river bridges. Be warned, the pavement on the first bridge and the road between them is on the right hand side and quite narrow. The most dangerous section is the final bridge where there is no pavement and the bridge is arched obscuring the view of oncoming traffic. Vehicles do come quickly around the bend ahead and the bridge is some 50 metres long. A rapid transit keeping eyes and ears open is required.
Keeping to the now pavemented right hand side of the road it is not long before the turn off to Bramford Speke is encountered on the right. Take this road and follow it until a small lodge house on a sharp left hand bend. Take the signposted track to the right and follow it, keeping to the right of the fork entrance to Pyne House. Shortly after, the path leaves the track and goes left to avoid some farm buildings before turning right and right again, emerging back left onto a narrow path along a hedgerow above the Exe valley to your right. Continue along this path, through a small wood and emerge onto another wide track in the valley.
Turn left and walk along the track until reaching a signpost offering four ways. Take the way ahead up the side of a grassy hill where the path is very indistinct. However, at the top of the hill the way obviously heads through a tiny stile, across the farm track and another stile into the field opposite. A short walk through the field and the path exists onto a farm track by a couple of barns. Turn right.
Following this, avoiding all side paths the route arrives at the road into Bramford Speke. Turn right, over the bridge and up the hill into the village centre. Note the path to Upton Pyne on the left just before a series of houses. This is the path to follow on the return part of the journey, but can be taken now if you wish to shorten the walk.
On reaching the signed road on the right that approaches the church, turn into it and then take one of the paths through the churchyard, round the back of the church where it exists into a narrow alley. Follow this until its end at a covered lytch gate. Turn sharp right down a steep metalled path to a footbridge over the River Exe. Cross the bridge and follow the obvious path ahead, ignoring other paths coming in from the right.
Soon signs ahead indicate private land, requiring a right turn to enter a broad field. Here, after a gate, it is possible to turn sharp left to reach a riverside path and the remains of an old railway bridge that used to cross the river here. However, before long this route requires a return walk along the other side of the field away again from the river. An alternative to this, albeit missing the bridge and picturesque river bank, is to take the path immediately ahead along the hedgerow.
The path now follows the river until emerging on a track where you turn left. Follow this track around a dog leg bend until coming to an obvious turn right. The track continues straight until it reaches a junction with a minor road where you turn right. This is the road to Stoke Canon, half way along which is an ancient stone cross at a tee junction, a pleasant lunch stop.
Continuing along the road, past some renovated new houses leads to a level crossing on the left over the main Exeter to London railway line on the outskirts of Stoke Canon. Turning left here you can find a pub and a small shop. However, the path goes right through a small gate and along the old branch line embankment towards Bramford Speke, whose church tower can be seen on the ridge ahead.
The path is easy to follow as it continues towards the village, crossing a small stream and ending up back at the footbridge over the Exe crossed previously. Retrace your steps into the village and find your way left along the main road through it towards the path to Upton Pyne noted earlier. Take this path which winds along the ridge above a stream, at one point turning left towards the small valley bottom. There are a few gates, stiles and bridges to negotiate before the path emerges alongside a large cultivated field via a final stile. Turn left here and follow the field edge before the path becomes a track and junctions with a tarmac road.
Turn left up the hill on this road into the village of Upton Pyne. The route now sticks to this road through the village, past initially old houses and the church and then newer buildings. Crest the rise and descend the other side of the hill, ignoring the road coming in from the left, until a signpost indicates a path on the right. This path cuts off the corner by hugging the edge of a field with a large tree in the middle of it. Although indistinct, there is a small path off the edge of the field before it ends, descending on the right, through a gate in a hedgerow and down to the railway line below.
Cross the line carefully, obeying the ‘stop, look, listen’ sign and turn left at the other side. The path now follows the river on your right before climbing some stairs to reach the side road just before a large bridge over the river Creedy. Turn right here to regain the main A377 ahead where by turning left you will be able to retrace your route back into Exeter.
An alternative to the busy and rather dangerous crossing of the river bridge referred to earlier, is to cross the main road at the crest of the hill ahead and take the narrow road on the right where there is a church on the junction. This is the back road into Exeter, running parallel to the A377 on the opposite side of the river bank. It is reasonably quiet although care should be taken as it is narrow, windy and has no footpaths. After a while, and immediately past a large mill on the left, it is possible to cut left into a grassy recreation area with playing fields. Otherwise the road, now footpathed on the left, heads towards a junction. Turn left, cross first the bridges over the flood channel and river, then the trainline (this time with operated barriers) and regain the A377. Turn right to return to the centre of Exeter.