Introduction
Mum and I decided to go for a walk from Tring to Wendover via the Ridgeway, and then back by a different route. We'd previously walked from Tring to Wendover along the canal, but walking along the top should be quite different; also, we were promised an impressive swathe of autumn colour.
Ridgeway to Wendover
The Ridgeway actually goes directly past the station, bypassing Tring itself, so it was quite convenient to start. At the station we encountered a massive horde of people who looked like walkers, but I guess they were going the other way, because we didn't see them again.
The path led over a major road using a tall pedestrian bridge, which is unusual because it's actually built to slope from one side to the other. Looking back, we could see hills in the distance: these are the ones just before Ivinghoe Beacon, which we walked to on another occasion, and we could also see the Bridgewater Monument from that walk.
The main road and (about eighteen hundred years later) the canal and railway all come through Tring because it's the lowest point in the Chilterns: between those hills, and the ones we were starting to climb.
After that the route led us past funny-named country lanes (The Twist; probably not named after the Chubby Checker hit), some farmland, and woodland. Since this is the Ridgeway, most of it was at least vaguely toward the higher slopes.
At the edge of one of the woods (beside an arable field, easily reached by jumping a ditch where the fence had collapsed) we found some old abandoned animal pens of some kind.
As ruined buildings go, this wasn't much, but it was dark and concrete and falling apart with wire-mesh fences and old rusted electrical fittings hanging off the ceiling, and that has to count for something. Actually I thought it was a little bit creepy.
After passing a huge radio mast, the route took us past some non-ruined farm buildings and a bunch of agricultural machinery... toward more woods.
Finally we descended and then followed a lane into Wendover.
We sat in the churchyard to eat lunch, then went into Wendover and looked around it again; there's still not much there. They do have a chocolate shop though; we bought a very small box of chocolates as a present for somebody. (Sorry, somebody! We had to pick one which wouldn't get crushed in Mum's backpack.)
To Tring
Leaving Wendover through its large ex-council estate, we took a route to the north, aiming to reach the actual town of Tring this time.
I had hoped we would see some of the military airbase beside the hill, and we did, but it was entirely devoid of any interest whatsoever from that direction. No runways, no secret torture flights taking off, no nothing. Just dull-looking accommodation blocks. Rather disappointing.
Tring itself appeared a fairly nice town, although we didn't see that much of it. We decided it was too early for a meal and we'd get a snack (cup of tea, for Mum) and head to the station, and I said 'There must be a Costa's or something'; at which point the couple walking in front of us turned around and said 'yes, it's right there'. It was about twenty metres ahead. I'm not sure whether this is a demonstration of my psychic powers, my poor observation, or the disturbing prevalance of national coffee chains. All three?
Anyway we walked the last couple of miles to the station, by which point it was getting dark, and got there just in time for our respective trains. The end!