Face looking down to the ground, snot driven back over my shoulders, nose and cheeks abraded by gale driven drift and sleet, I placed one foot in front of the other, then the next, then the next and on into the teeth of the storm.
Branches, rubbish and clods of dirts kept smacking into me with percussive force, driven by winds gusting to 62 knots.
Every now and again I staggered under the weight of the 25kg load I carried, a load that kept snuggling into my neck and arms as it tried to escape the stinging sleet.
I wasn’t trekking in the far north of Canada or Siberia, but trying to make my way home from nursery with the Wee ‘Un.
The wind had dropped sufficiently this morning that I was able to cycle him to nursery but even as I rode home the wind was regaining strength, changing pitch from an occasional shriek and whistle to a full-blooded locomotive roar.
By the time I reached the final uphill stretch, individual gusts were strong enough to stop me in my tracks or even blow me backwards by two or three feet.
Unable to get through to the Other Half on the phone and with no neighbours home to cadge a lift from, I had no choice but to return on foot to collect the Wee ‘Un.
The trek in was hard, with the following wind picking me up and blowing me across the road three times, tearing my watreproofs and bruising my arms and shins as I tumbled into banks and hedgerows.
At one point, a huge birch tree - with a trunk easily three feet in diameter - came crashing down, fortunately not falling on the road or me.
I rather naively thought the journey home would be easier as there should be one or two parents prepared to give us a lift.
I thought in vain.
Not everyone whose child attends the nursery has a car and, of those who did, none were going our way.
I didn’t like the thought of walking home, especially when a grandad with an anemometer on his roof said the wind was gusting to 62 knots (71mph, 115km/h).
But with nowhere to stay in the village until the wind eased and with no lift, I had no choice but to start walking.
The first thing to do after collecting the boy was to get us some supplies so I bought drinks, chocolates, cakes and crisps.
Then it was time to wrap the Wee ‘Un up.
I always have spare clothes for him, so I took off his extra thick lumberjacket and then dressed him in his second pair of trousers and second sweater, wrapped his spare T-shirt around his face and throat to protect him from the wind and sleet, and put his spare socks on his hands as additional gloves.
Then it was back on with his coat and woollie hat.
It’s 2.1 miles from the village to our croft and without a backpack carrier, I had to alternate between piggybacking the Wee ‘Un and carrying him in my arms.
Every 500 paces, I’d put him down and get him to walk 100 paces, before carrying him again
I trudged out of the village, up the steep slope to the base of Dunnideer Hill where I contemplated stopping but with the very large trees there under enormous pressure from the wind I decided it was safer to push on.
Step, step, step, 210, 211, 212, 213, 214, step, step…
Cars zoomed past several times but none stopped, not even two mums whose children are in the nursery with the Wee ‘Un.
Step, step, 378, 379, 380, step, step…
The wind was now blasting directrly into my face so I could barely see for ice drift, dirt, leaves and twigs.
When we reached Dunnideer Farm I found a safer spot to rest under the trees beside the road, so I stopped for a breather.
We had a drink and some chocolate, while I checked the Wee ‘Un.
His legs were a little cold despite two pairs of trousers but the rest of him was toasty and he was his usual intrepid self.
“This is like being explorers, Pa.”
With his clothes re-sealed against the wind and cold, I picked him up and set off again.
Step, step, step, 78, 79, 80, step, step, step…
We passed the halfway point but we were now out between open fields, with the wind redoubling in force until it was like walking into a cold sand blasting cabinet.
I vaguely noticed a large black car heading the opposite way, but was more concerned with trudging on with the lad to see where it went.
Step, step, step, 256, 257, 258, step, step, beep-beep!
A new, black Range Rover had pulled up and the lady driving offered us a lift.
We were only too pleased to say yes, and were in faster than the Wee ‘Un could sneeze.
It transpired that the driver had been going the other way and after passing us, had done a U-turn to come back and collect us.
Brilliant.
A few short minutes later, we were back home and thanking the lady profusely.
The Wee ‘Un is now in the bath with his cake and a mug of hot milk and honey, while I’m sitting on the floor next to him writing this and sipping a cup of tea.
It was a brutal walk in and back. I think we’ll stay home tomorrow - even if the wind drops again!
Oh, and now it’s snowing…
Thank goodness there was someone who thought about others rather than themselves.
I’ve just come as it has become too dangerous to do the chores - the wind is much, much stronger than it was earlier and two of the pig huts have moved. And they’re not light - I have to move them with levers.
When I saw last nights forecast I thought you would be in for a rough ride.
Just as well you are used to the lifting and carrying, I am sure the wee ‘un will remember the adventure, and will tell the tale to his kids.
So long as we are all home safe, I love being tucked up in doors listening to the roar of a storm or the silence of heavy snow.
Give the lady in the range rover a gold star, and if she didn’t know you from Adam, and still turned back to give you a lift, give her ‘kindness of strangers’ diploma!
I have no idea who she was, but she must have been proper country folk as she had no problem with wet, muddy, grotty strangers sitting on the lovely leather seats and dripping on the cream carpets in her Range Rover.
See, I said not all 4×4 owners are bad!
I’ve finally managed to get all the chores down, and in this wind it was really hard work. The boar’s hut had been blown onto the fence, so I had to get it off, push it back up the hill, dig earth up around it, re-bed it with straw and entertain him - all in winds gusting to 75-80mph.
Just walking out with the buckets of feed and water was hard going, but the animals are all bedded down for night, so it’s my turn for a cuppa.
I think this links very well to your post about charity & financial gain.
The lady was very charitable in the true sense of the word. Well done her!
I rather like the philosophy of doing (at least) one good deed a day about which you tell nobody…. ie for the sheer altruism, not for the boasting power.
You were SO right to get your frozen bundle to walk in regular stretches….. Good for you to have the breather, but even more so to keep his circulation whizzing well.
Stay home in the warm tomorrow!
The Wee ‘Un normally walks the whole 2.1 miles with me, but blocks of 100 paces into that wind was more than enough for him.
And don’t worry, he wasn’t frozen. His knees, shins and nose were cold when we got in, but the extra layers of clothing, his lumberjacket, woollie hat and waterproof ankle boots all kept him snug and cosy.
He thinks it was a brilliant adventure. I’m knackered, though.
Thats what makes life worth living!
And topped off with restoration of faith in human kindness!
I enjoy being out on the fells when its snowing or windy…it makes the walking/scrambling more worthwhile.
I’m relieved to hear you’re ok - as I prepared breakfast this morning I heard the weather forecast threatening winds of 80 - 90 mph in parts of Scotland and thought of you…down here in the soft south of England it’s just been quietly drizzling this afternoon…
But just for variety, I hear the East Coast is threatened by a tidal surge and flooding is expected…at least that’s one hazard I guess you won’t face…good luck to you all…
KM, we’re not supposed to admit to enjoying it!
Cogidubnus, normally it’s a “breeze” walking into the village and back, but with that wind it felt like I’d walked much more than the three and a bit miles I actually covered.
As for tidal surges, well, we did deliberately seek a place above the 200m contour…
I take my hat off to you Stoney, I really do! Having driven from the village to yours, the thought of walking it, in this wind, with the added sleet/hail, and carrying your wee one (who actually is’nt that wee!) freezes me to the marrow!
I drove down to retrieve my children. They are only 500 yards away, but with the little one poorly, the last thing I wanted to do was walk. It was bad enough trying to catch flying chickens (mine are brainless and braved the storm, only to find themselves trapped out in the wind without the physical strength to get back into the coop), and lashing down anything that could move and was too big to go in the garage. The tarps over the boat have been shredded and will need replaced. The boat itself is rocking alarmingly. Part of my car was ripped off and blown into the carpark. The wheelbarrow flew past me and was narrowly caught before trashing one of the spare cars. And yet - we appear to still have all the roof tiles!
Stay warm. Stay well. I wish you as little damage as possible.
Glad you made it home alright. So glad to hear someone stopped to give you a lift.
It reminds me of when i didn’t drive and walked everywhere for 10 years with my 2 older girls, rain, wind, sleet, hail, scorching sun, we survived it and now laugh about it.
I don’t want to sound heartless, but better you than me, Stone. Whew! I am glad you found an angel in a 4×4, and that the family and animals are safe and snug.
It’s really not that bad. Hard work, cold and wet, but don’t forget people used to walk in and out of town in all weathers until the last 20-30 years or so.
A lady in the village recalls walking in from her parent’s farm - a mile past us - through snow so deep she couldn’t see over the sides of the cutting made by the snow plough. She was in her teens then so the snow was probably about six feet deep. She also recalls walking to school in all but the most fierce blizzards. Now, they’d close the school after a few flurries.
Oh, and it’s snowing here this morning. Proper, blizzard snow. Brrrrr!
Blimey Stoney it does sound like a proper adventure, glad you both got home safe and warm. Fingers crossed this passes quickly and with as little damage as possible- we on the west of the country have it easy by comparison.
Stay safe
Kind thoughts
Deb
Sad to hear that nobody from the nursery wouldn’t drive 2.1 miles in the opposite direction to give you and your wee lad a lift home. How bloody miserable of them. It could be them one day!! I really HATE that people don’t help their fellow man as a matter of course, even if it means putting themselves out.
We’re not going to nursery at the moment because, once again, my car is off the road and I really don’t fancy the 5 mile walk at the moment as I can’t even lift J because of my bad neck.
Well done to the lady in the rangie… a true star.
Sounds like it was worse in land. I got blown off my bike at the end of my road on the way home, but I don’t think it was as bad as you describe. The snow wasn’t pleasant though…
It’s not so much that they’re miserable, or even deliberately mean. They’re just so preoccupied with their own tiny world view that it never occurs to them to consider others.
That’s also one of the big problems to be addressed in mobilising enough people to do something about declining oil stocks, pollution, climate change and the like. People have largely forgotten to look outside themselves and fail to realise there’s much more than “me, me, me”.
Oh, and as for that very large tree that dared to fall over and give me a shock. I persuaded the tree surgeons to give me a very large piece of branch for use as a chopping block. That will teach trees to make me jump! (I would have liked the whole tree for timber and firewood, but it was being cut up for sale as chippings and firewood. Sigh.)
It reminds me of times we had to walk to or from school in the winter when we lived in a Kent Village. And then later cycing to senior school in all weathers, including blizzards. Kids now don’t know they’re born!
I had “fun” yesterday trying to get off the Seacat from Portsmouth to Ryde Pierhead. They had cancelled two because it so rough it wasn’t possible to tie up. Ours was a bit of an iffy attempt too, with one tie-up rope snapping. Then when they did drop the gangway it was bucking so much it was a real adventure. I felt sorry for the old couple who had to face it.