Aug. 3rd, 2003

cybermule: (Default)
Infuriating weekend and fun weekend. The phases of the weekend changed about midnight Saturday. So first Expandthe Saturday from Hell - big rant, best left alone )

OK - got that off my chest. Excuse extreme ranting, and await more cheerful and serene weekend installment after I've taken a shower...
cybermule: (Default)
After the family mayhem that was Saturday, my Sunday was much more tranquil. The weather was fine - warm, sunny and not too humid - so after much deliberation I decided to spend the afternoon in the Forest of Dean.

The drive up was wonderful, spent gently meditating on the familiar scenery of the A46 as it carves a straight line through Nailsworth and Stroud and on to Gloucester. Having dealt with Gloucester's "interesting" road system, I refuelled with caffeinated beverages at my traditional rest stop in Over, then plunged into the forest to the gentle strains of imaginary duelling banjos.

The mission location was Cannops Ponds. Having parked, I was suspicious as to the wisdom of my choice as I had to go down a gravel track, past a disused railway and stone masonry factory, but the beautiful lake unfolded at the bottom of the track. Took a long slow walk around the lake, soaking up the smells of lakeside plants, the plipping noise of fish, watching mammoth dragonflies whizz past, and making a couple of new acquaintances, both big and tiny. About a third of the way around the lake, an island of reed beds materialised, and it wasn't long before I could perilously limp across a log over the feeding stream of the lake, and onto the other side. This was less enclosed with trees and more popular for kids and barbeques, but I still managed to find a couple of grassy spots on the bank to chill out and watch the sunlight on the water.

On the way back from the lake, I stopped at New Fancy viewpoint, which used to be a colliery but now commanded a wonderful view across a valley full of pine trees. It made me wonder why I'd ever bothered to go to America, reminding me a little of the wonderful views from Mount Tamalpais. It was incredibly warm and dry, and I could hear the pods of seeds on the gorse bushes popping in the heat. After that last little walk, I came back home on the other side of the Severn, passing through Chepstow and across the Severn Bridge. I felt greatly restored - the brilliance of the day seemed to make me very concious, hyper-aware of the light and sounds and smells, and just passively soaking them in.

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