There's not much more pleasant ways to pass a weekend than that oh-so-English occupation of "rambling". In a country where wilderness is basically defined as losing direct line-of-sight with a pub, it would be quite possible to safely, happily, and most of all therapeutically potter along lanes and bridleways, amble across fields and streams, clamber over stiles and dry-walls until kingdom come. Between stages of this, like all performance activities, suitable recuperation is required; traditionally, a warming fire, a pint and a chat with fellow walkers and local pub-dwellers.
We spent just two days doing this in Yorkshire, at the height of lambing season, which proved a balm to the soul. I can't wait to do it again - nothing better than getting up early to load up with a big breakfast, in anticipation of heading out the door to discover what the day will reveal, and all under the power of shanks' pony.
More shots
here.
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