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Fortean Country Walks

I'm not entirely sure that either of the following count as 'Fortean' as such, but both events have left permanent imprints in an out of the ordinary sense...

#2

I have posted this before - and was just going to cut and paste or link, but I think the thread may have been disappeared.

Some years back I was walking up above Monsal Dale in the White Peak area of Derbyshire. It's a tramp I've done many times and I'm very familiar with the landscape, so I wasn't seeing anything new.

One of the advantages of being self-employed is that I can shift my timetable around somewhat, and tend to walk during the week, when the paths are quieter than they might be at weekends - and on this particular day, barely a soul was around.

At a point around halfway along the route I made my way up from Monsal Head, a local beauty spot with car park and great views over Ruskin's vale of Tempe - somewhat famous, along with the viaduct that crosses it, from old British Rail posters. Although connected to a focal point for tourists and walkers, the path I follow is not so obvious, and - even on busy days - rarely seems to get used.

I love the White Peak's rolling hills and crags, the ever present network of dry-stone walls, the sense of height that I always feel when on the limestone plateau; and the day in question was truly beautiful - warm, but with a perfect breeze, a deep blue sky, the path crazy with wildflowers, and the hawthorn in bloom.

The day was so beautiful, in fact, that I had to keep stopping - more than usual - to soak it all in.

And then, at some point, a sense of unreality started to strike me: the sky seemed almost too blue, the wildflowers almost too vibrant, the breeze whistling through the walls almost too relaxing - everything was almost too beautiful. At first, I shook off this uncanny (although not unpleasant) feeling, but as I continued walking the sense of an awesome, otherworldly beauty actually increased to a level that became almost overbearing, as if something was quite literally taking my breath away, and - although this is going to sound nuts, now - there came a point where I thought I might actually have died on the path, and be seeing something not entirely of this world. I actually looked down at myself, and back along the path, to see if I was lying down somewhere - and I seem to recall, cliche though it might be, that I pinched my arm as hard as I could.

When I reached the junction with another path I was to take, I actually choked up and sobbed - I think more in the way of some sort of physical release, rather than an emotional response - and did what every true born Brit does in times of emotional overload: sat down and had a mug of splosh.

If I was a spiritual or religious person, maybe I'd say that I had a spiritual experience - or some sort of epiphany. Now, when I look back on it I think of it as the land emphasising something that I knew all along - that nature is absolutely fucking awesome...and don't you forget it.

Although not taken on the same day - these two pictures are from the precise point of view of the place I took my rest, and the conditions are more or less as they were on that day:

IMG_0465a.jpg
IMG_0457a.jpg
 
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I'm a little hesitant to post this but I will. A friend of mine was in fact murdered on a country lane in a small upscale town by as it really turned out an escaped maniac. This has seriously curtailed my country walks.
If anyone is interested in old cold murders (the guy was never caught, which makes the community nervous to this day), search on Jan Stackhouse in Massachusetts.
 
I went out for my usual lunchtime perambulation of the countryside (as MR James would say ) today, and was walking on a country lane that separates my village from the next.

On the lane there is small layby, normally used by drivers to park their cars, while they walk the public footpaths through the fields.

As I got closer to the car, I could see someone, or something sitting in the front passenger seat.

To my shock and amusement it was this. Seriously WTF.

Talk about Fortean country walks eh :omg: lol

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Alternatively:

Be polite, be professional, but have a plan to kill everybody you meet.
-- James Mattis.

More seriously, I became very thoughtful about choosing which table or seat to take after reading Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy.

You want to see the main entrance, have something solid between you and it, and be able to identify alternative exits before you sit down.
Does your dinner date count as something solid between you and the entrance?
 
Does your dinner date count as something solid between you and the entrance?

I run comparative experiments with my dates and blocks of ballistic gel before taking them out in public.

I have charts that cross reference height, weight, age, hair colour and race with resistance.

Forty-five-year-old red-headed Latvian mechanics seem to be one's best bet.
 
I went out for my usual lunchtime perambulation of the countryside (as MR James would say ) today, and was walking on a country lane that separates my village from the next.

On the lane there is small layby, normally used by drivers to park their cars, while they walk the public footpaths through the fields.

As I got closer to the car, I could see someone, or something sitting in the front passenger seat.

To my shock and amusement it was this. Seriously WTF.

Talk about Fortean country walks eh :omg: lol

View attachment 29666

That's the Uber skeleton crew.
 
...To my shock and amusement it was this. Seriously WTF...

Given the stupid grin and faraway expression, and what looks like a strategically placed towel, I suspect it’s a case of indecent exposure taken to extreme lengths - indeceasent exposure, or ‘fleshing’ as it’s known in the ‘outdoor sports’ community. (Not to be confused with the other ‘fleshing’ – which is just posh flashing.)

I don’t suppose you happened to notice if the individual in question was intestate at the time...or was the towel in the way?
 
We walk the dogs most days along the line of an old railway that was lost during the Beeching Axe. On one particular morning a couple of weekends ago I had the strangest feeling of unease that I have never before experienced in the countless times we have walked the route. At the same time my wife stopped walking and started to stare into the bushes and trees ahead of us. I asked what she was looking at and she said she thought she had seen “something” and felt a little uncomfortable with it.
The feeling passed as quickly as it came and we discussed later what it may have been. We concluded that if it had been anything natural or supernatural the two dogs would have reacted, but neither showed any change in demeanour.
 
I remember reading an article in either a local newspaper or magazine while I was on holiday. I would have been in the south-west of the U.K. somewhere. It would have been between five to ten years ago.
The articles headline was something like “I saw a ghost”. The gist of it was that the writer of the article was on one of their country walks for the newspaper/magazine and saw a ghost coming towards them on the path.
I have done numerous online searches for the article but can’t find it anywhere.
 
Once again I went on a Saturday morning walk with my very interesting neighbour, and fellow country walker Les.

5 miles through the back country lanes to the market town of Halstead, quick refreshment on a bench near the library, then back again.

As we were sitting there (bottle of water for Les and a can of Tennents super for me, ( ha ha no only joking) I told Les that I enjoyed his story last week about the phantom motor bike, and asked if he had any more odd experiences whilst out walking – he nodded and told me that a few strange things have happened to him over the years

Some years ago, (Les reckons late 1990’s) Les was walking in countryside near the Suffolk town of Sudbury. He was on a public footpath with fields either side, and as he’s been walking for some distance, decides to take a flask of coffee out of his rucksack, and have a rest (he’s got one of those walking sticks things that also can be adjusted to become a seat)

As he’s sitting there enjoying his coffee, he notices a young woman (about 18 or 19 years of age) coming along the footpath towards him, however she doesn’t fit the appearance of a country walker, as she was wearing summer clothing – denim shorts , T shirt, and plimsolls. What makes this strange is it was early February and very cold.

The girl stops and says hello, and asked Les if she is on the right path to Boxford. Les advises that Boxford is a good 8 or 9 miles away, and her best bet would be to walk into Sudbury, and maybe take a bus from there, or seek further directions - the girl thanks him and carries on walking.

A second or two later it crosses Les’s mind, that the poor girl must be freezing, and perhaps she’d like a cup of his hot coffee, he got up from his seat and was about to call out to the young lady, but she is nowhere to be seen. He spent a few minutes walking along the footpath, and looking over the fields etc., but nope she’d completely disappeared.

Les said the strangest thing about it, was that the girl didn’t look cold, or in anyway did she seem distressed, as you would expect from someone dressed inappropriately in very cold weather – in fact Les said, with her tanned skin, she could have just walked off a beach in high summer.

Very odd.

He told me a couple more stories, but I’ll leave them for another post.
 
Mrs DT has dared me to walk the entire length of Devils road on Saturday night. It’s not an actual road, more of a service lane that gives the local farmers access to their fields.

She will drop me off in the car at the start, then drive the ¾ of a mile around the lane, and pick me up at the other end.

As you can see, its creepy enough on the bright sunny day, the google street car drove through it, let alone at night when its pitch black and I’ve only got my mobile phone as a light source, and also especially Halloween bloody night.

What was I thinking when I agreed. :eek: Oh well.

My reward however, is a lamb tikka biryani, veg samosa's, and a stuffed paratha courtesy of Mrs DT :)



1603806805650.jpg
 
#2

I have posted this before - and was just going to cut and paste or link, but I think the thread may have been disappeared.

Some years back I was walking up above Monsal Dale in the White Peak area of Derbyshire. It's a tramp I've done many times and I'm very familiar with the landscape, so I wasn't seeing anything new.

One of the advantages of being self-employed is that I can shift my timetable around somewhat, and tend to walk during the week, when the paths are quieter than they might be at weekends - and on this particular day, barely a soul was around.

At a point around halfway along the route I made my way up from Monsal Head, a local beauty spot with car park and great views over Ruskin's vale of Tempe - somewhat famous, along with the viaduct that crosses it, from old British Rail posters. Although connected to a focal point for tourists and walkers, the path I follow is not so obvious, and - even on busy days - rarely seems to get used.

I love the White Peak's rolling hills and crags, the ever present network of dry-stone walls, the sense of height that I always feel when on the limestone plateau; and the day in question was truly beautiful - warm, but with a perfect breeze, a deep blue sky, the path crazy with wildflowers, and the hawthorn in bloom.

The day was so beautiful, in fact, that I had to keep stopping - more than usual - to soak it all in.

And then, at some point, a sense of unreality started to strike me: the sky seemed almost too blue, the wildflowers almost too vibrant, the breeze whistling through the walls almost too relaxing - everything was almost too beautiful. At first, I shook off this uncanny (although not unpleasant) feeling, but as I continued walking the sense of an awesome, otherworldly beauty actually increased to a level that became almost overbearing, as if something was quite literally taking my breath away, and - although this is going to sound nuts, now - there came a point where I thought I might actually have died on the path, and be seeing something not entirely of this world. I actually looked down at myself, and back along the path, to see if I was lying down somewhere - and I seem to recall, cliche though it might be, that I pinched my arm as hard as I could.

When I reached the junction with another path I was to take, I actually choked up and sobbed - I think more in the way of some sort of physical release, rather than an emotional response - and did what every true born Brit does in times of emotional overload: sat down and had a mug of splosh.

If I was a spiritual or religious person, maybe I'd say that I had a spiritual experience - or some sort of epiphany. Now, when I look back on it I think of it as the land emphasising something that I knew all along - that nature is absolutely fucking awesome...and don't you forget it.

Although not taken on the same day - these two pictures are from the precise point of view of the place I took my rest, and the conditions are more or less as they were on that day:

View attachment 29628View attachment 29629
Not really on a par with your posting, but I spent nearly a whole winter in Samara Russia back in the 90’s and saw snowfalls of up to 14 inches overnight. We worked everyday in some serious sub-zero temperatures whilst the landscape was white for months on end.
A friend picked me up from Heathrow and on the way home I got quite emotional by the sight of grass. I hadn’t seen any living vegetation for so long that I quite unexpectedly was nigh on overwhelmed by the grass!
 
I'm not entirely sure that either of the following count as 'Fortean' as such, but both events have left permanent imprints in an out of the ordinary sense.

#1

I was lucky to grow up right in the middle of some beautiful countryside - and, as a youngster, and a bit of a loner, took full advantage of it. A fifteen minute walk took me right up through the woods and up onto the moors - where the world seemed to me to be entirely my oyster.

One sunny day - in my very early teens - I was dropping down off a steep hill onto an old railway line which is often used by walkers, but equally often, completely deserted. As I made my way I noticed two figures: one seemed like an older man, the other a teenager - but several years older than me. I was aware that they had become aware of me, and were looking up, but thought nothing of it and lost sight of them as the ground rose up to one side of me.

But then, just as I was about to hit the disused railway track, I hit a small rise and came into view of the younger man, who was much closer by then. All was absolutely fine until I saw him turn, and heard him say -"'He's over here." At which point, I bolted...like a fucking gazelle.

I've been in some situations, but have never - before or since - experienced the utterly overpowering surge of instinct that hit me then; I doubt the words were out of that guy's mouth before the flight mode had kicked in. I think I ran for a solid half hour - fortunately I knew those moors like the back of my hand and was out of their sight within a very short time.

The whole thing may have been me misunderstanding an entirely innocent situation - but I still get a wee bump of adrenalin thinking about it nearly four decades on.
If it happened on a Sunday in the 1980s it was probably me and my Grandad.
 
#2

I have posted this before - and was just going to cut and paste or link, but I think the thread may have been disappeared.

Some years back I was walking up above Monsal Dale in the White Peak area of Derbyshire. It's a tramp I've done many times and I'm very familiar with the landscape, so I wasn't seeing anything new.

One of the advantages of being self-employed is that I can shift my timetable around somewhat, and tend to walk during the week, when the paths are quieter than they might be at weekends - and on this particular day, barely a soul was around.

At a point around halfway along the route I made my way up from Monsal Head, a local beauty spot with car park and great views over Ruskin's vale of Tempe - somewhat famous, along with the viaduct that crosses it, from old British Rail posters. Although connected to a focal point for tourists and walkers, the path I follow is not so obvious, and - even on busy days - rarely seems to get used.

I love the White Peak's rolling hills and crags, the ever present network of dry-stone walls, the sense of height that I always feel when on the limestone plateau; and the day in question was truly beautiful - warm, but with a perfect breeze, a deep blue sky, the path crazy with wildflowers, and the hawthorn in bloom.

The day was so beautiful, in fact, that I had to keep stopping - more than usual - to soak it all in.

And then, at some point, a sense of unreality started to strike me: the sky seemed almost too blue, the wildflowers almost too vibrant, the breeze whistling through the walls almost too relaxing - everything was almost too beautiful. At first, I shook off this uncanny (although not unpleasant) feeling, but as I continued walking the sense of an awesome, otherworldly beauty actually increased to a level that became almost overbearing, as if something was quite literally taking my breath away, and - although this is going to sound nuts, now - there came a point where I thought I might actually have died on the path, and be seeing something not entirely of this world. I actually looked down at myself, and back along the path, to see if I was lying down somewhere - and I seem to recall, cliche though it might be, that I pinched my arm as hard as I could.

When I reached the junction with another path I was to take, I actually choked up and sobbed - I think more in the way of some sort of physical release, rather than an emotional response - and did what every true born Brit does in times of emotional overload: sat down and had a mug of splosh.

If I was a spiritual or religious person, maybe I'd say that I had a spiritual experience - or some sort of epiphany. Now, when I look back on it I think of it as the land emphasising something that I knew all along - that nature is absolutely fucking awesome...and don't you forget it.

Although not taken on the same day - these two pictures are from the precise point of view of the place I took my rest, and the conditions are more or less as they were on that day:

View attachment 29628View attachment 29629
Is the first photo Wardlow way, Spook?
 
“Like one, that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turned round walks on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows, a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.”
- Samuel Taylor Coleridge
 
There were two routes I could walk from the Station to my former home after Work. One followed the A road for about two miles until there was a turn-off onto a farm track. The other route was quicker and more scenic, whereby I would take a side road to a small wood and follow the bridle-path through - once clear of the woods the path lead right up to my front door.
The last time I tried the short route was on a warm evening, sun had set but still plenty of light. I kept off the main path because horses had churned it up but walked parallel to it through the undergrowth. It got dark, 'unnaturally' dark, Chislehurst Caves with the lanterns off kind of dark. I had my hands out in front of me so not to walk into a tree trunk, I couldn't see my feet or anything left or right - I certainly didn't want to know if there was something behind me. A two minute journey to traverse a small wood familiar for the past 20 years became a twenty minute stumble, my imagination filling in the gaps in sensory information. Deeply disturbing.
 
“Like one, that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turned round walks on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows, a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.”
- Samuel Taylor Coleridge
That has to be the most frightening poem I've ever read! :)
 
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These Codeine and Paracetamol tablets I've got are addictive enough.

Little wonder. Codeine becomes morphine.

"Codeine is marketed as a single-ingredient medicine or in combination with other substances such as aspirin or paracetamol. The effect of codeine on pain is due to its conversion into morphine. Codeine is converted into morphine in the body by an enzyme called CYP2D6."
https://www.ema.europa.eu/en/medici...e is marketed as a,by an enzyme called CYP2D6.
 
Little wonder. Codeine becomes morphine.

"Codeine is marketed as a single-ingredient medicine or in combination with other substances such as aspirin or paracetamol. The effect of codeine on pain is due to its conversion into morphine. Codeine is converted into morphine in the body by an enzyme called CYP2D6."
https://www.ema.europa.eu/en/medicines/human/referrals/codeine-containing-medicines#:~:text=Codeine is marketed as a,by an enzyme called CYP2D6.
I've been given codeine a few times and always stopped taking it as soon as I could bear the pain on 'over the counter' meds. Just...didn't want it to be too good to stop.
 
I was given some codeine for an ongoing medical issue, but it did nothing for me.
It didn't make me feel good or do much for pain suppression.
 
Little wonder. Codeine becomes morphine.

"Codeine is marketed as a single-ingredient medicine or in combination with other substances such as aspirin or paracetamol. The effect of codeine on pain is due to its conversion into morphine. Codeine is converted into morphine in the body by an enzyme called CYP2D6."
https://www.ema.europa.eu/en/medicines/human/referrals/codeine-containing-medicines#:~:text=Codeine is marketed as a,by an enzyme called CYP2D6.
Crikey, with that kind of conversion. . . it sounds like it would give the recipient a headache!:(
 
I was given some codeine for an ongoing medical issue, but it did nothing for me.
It didn't make me feel good or do much for pain suppression.
Not that I'm recommending it. . . but Co-codamol was great at supressing my back pain - though, I limited my use of it even though it was given by a Doctor for a certain period of use, as a lot of these things can get to be somewhat addictive. Luckily, I haven't needed it since.
 
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