The Big Black Cow that went Mooo

After the success of our first, albeit wet, day walking a short part of the Manifold Trail with only one slight mishap where Edward decided to faceplant a gravel path and put his tooth through his lip (no bother 'magic ice pops' were to hand), we decided on day two we would wander the 1.25 miles into Hartington village, have a cuppa at the Village Store, mooch around, a bit of lunch in the pub and a leisurely meander home down the footpath. This was the plan until, just as we reached the village Arthur managed to put his head under Eric's bottom just as he had squatted for a 'download'. Before Paul could react appropriately the download was commenced and Arthur retreated with poo on head and collar. With some sort of thankful forethought the boys happened to pull off this stunt right outside a public toilet. Paul rushed Arthur in and cleaned him up, it was this action that was to change the course of our day...

Whilst waiting merrily for Arthur to have his wash and set I met a local who advised me of a nice walk. 'Just walk past the garage and the surgery and you'll be on a lovely quiet B-road. Go as far as you need to and just come back again. The scenery is amazing.' I thanked the chap for his advice and when Paul and a fresher Arthur emerged from the WC I relayed our slightly changed walking plan to him. Marvellous. We set off past the garage, past doctors surgery and up a stone wall sided road. Not a car in sight. On and on we went, over a cattle grid where the road was became flanked with steep hills and open fields full of sheep. One particular field had cows in the far off distance. We noted them. 'I'm glad they're over there' I said with a giggle. I like cows but only if they're behind some sort of protective barrier. Without it they become somewhat devil like. Further we went, past a brook where Edward had a splash and a paddle, past more sheep, until we got to another cattle grid and a gate. At this point the weather decided to be slightly less kindly than it had been. The drizzle turned to rain and we decided to head back. All was well until we got to the section of road with the 'far off cows' except now the cows weren't far off, they were on the road and as I mentioned before, I don't like cows. Paul said it was fine and he'd ask them to move. So we went past one polite lady cow who moved nicely for us to be greeted around the corner by Big Black Cow and his mates. At this point Eric lost control of his senses and shouted. Arthur therefore shouted. Big Black Cow looked unimpressed and the odds of 'two adults, a toddler and two dogs' emerging safely the other side of Big Black Cow and his gangster herd looked slim. There was no way around and as Big Black Cow said 'moooo' we sulked back a few paces, stood behind a wall and prayed that our phones might have just enough reception to fathom out the best route home. Paul didn't let us down. 'We can go this way', he said tracing the roads with his finger, 'it shouldn't take too long, and look, we go through Pilsbury, there's bound to be a pub there, it's where the doughman comes from'. So we took that route. All 7 miles of it. And for the record, Pilsbury doesn't have a pub. In fact it doesn't have much at all.

We left Judith Too at 8am and we got back to the pub in Hartington at 1.30pm. It was a gruling trek up steep hills and pushing a sleepy, leg achy toddler in a pram did not help. But we made it.