Weekend Walks

The club aims to put on local walks every weekend and where possible on both Saturdays and Sundays.

All the walks are led by a leader who will guide you along footpaths and bridleways through the countryside.

In recent months we have enjoyed walks in the Chilterns around Hambledon, Henley, Marlow, over the Berkshire Downs, along the Ridgeway and further afield in Surrey, Hampshire and Oxfordshire.

There is usually a morning coffee stop on all walks. On longer walks there will also be a lunch stop (bring packed lunch). We generally try to arrange the lunch stop near a country pub, so that those who want to can enjoy a sociable drink.

Weekends Away

We arrange club trips away to the hills and along the coastal paths around Britain . About twice a year we have a weekend in some good walking country. We usually travel by coach, around 30 of us, and stay together in a small hotel.

There is a choice of walks at two or three grades each day, varying from gentle strolls of about 5-6 miles (with perhaps a visit to a place of interest) to more energetic walks up to 9-10 miles, or even 12-15 miles if some of our mountain section members are on the trip.

Exmoor, Dartmoor, the Quantocks, the Cotswold Hills and the Cornish Coast Path are all popular destinations as are the Brecon Beacons, the Gower and mid-Wales.

Sometimes we arrange a week's holiday further afield to the Yorkshire Dales or the Lake District or even the Canary Islands.

Taking it easy in Tenerife

With the weather set fair on the first day of our trip, we grabbed the chance to get within a cable car’s ride of the island’s highest point, the snow capping Tiede’s looking like icing on a cake. A chocolate cake, perhaps, for the ruddy brown, volcanic rocks we passed as we made our descent resembled dried-up chunks of the stuff.

Not so tasty, though, was the dishwater thinly disguised as tea served up at the Parador de Las Canadas café, our finishing point. But nothing could spoil the view as the sun kept on beating down.

We had the added pleasure of Henry’s company on the following day’s walk from Erjos and, although the going got a little tough for him halfway down, he at least had the consolation of arriving in the quiet village square of El Palmar with a lady supporting him on each arm. I should be so lucky.

Once again starting high and heading downhill on the third day, we set off from Casa Carlos and, after initially slipping and sliding down damp, moss-covered steps, the path opened out to reveal spectacular views of Toborna, a mighty rock sticking out like a giant sore thumb, as well as tiered cultivation and villages that seemed about to topple off the hillsides. It’s called living on the edge.

Day Four featured a short walk from La Caldera to Aguamansa during which we were suddenly confronted on a quiet country road by a herd of about 70 goats. While most of them squeezed and wriggled past us in a panic, one bedraggled old stager sauntered along at his own pace. He wasn’t in a hurry and neither were we.

A walk back along the coast from San Vicente to Puerta de la Cruz was next on our agenda, giving Beryl an unexpected chance to demonstrate her soccer skills as she boldly joined in a children’s kick-about. Such was the power of her shot – like that of a latter-day John Charles – that the football sailed straight over the wall onto wave-lashed rocks about 100ft below. A 10-euro note, however, soon restored the smiles to the stunned boys’ faces.

Our final day’s walk began at Fleytas where we strolled through Tenerife’s own version of the Lake District, a series of small pools surrounded by burn-out trees whose eerie silence was broken only by a solitary robin singing. Weaving our way up a winding path, we eventually reached a viewing point where the outline of the island of Gomera could just be made out in the haze, a mystery waiting to be explored.

On the way back we got off the bus early at La Paz to look down over the harbour before walking down through the town and along the seafront where a doting dad sent his delighted young son, strapped to a bungee-jump machine, soaring skywards. And so, like all of the trips organised by Tessa and Henry, a thoroughly enjoyable holiday had ended on a high.

Steve Thomson

For forthcoming weekend trips, see the Walks Programmes.